The A-Line It is what it is, unless it is not
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2007
9
Apr

Back At It

Miss me? Yes, it has been a while. Over three weeks, as a few of you graciously reminded me, information interspersed among the questions such as ‘Are you all right?” I wasn’t.

I rarely catch colds or the flu. By my recollection, it has been at least a couple of decades, maybe longer, since I was waylaid by a wayward virus. Not anymore. While driving home from Tech’s final regular season game, that loss to Clemson, I did not feel particularly well. That turned out to be a harbinger of bad things to come.

By a few days later, I was flat on my back with a doozy of a cold, flu, or something. I might not get sick often, but when I do I don’t screw around. This particular strain of whatever it was I had displayed remarkable staying power, too. I stayed in various stages of ill health for weeks. Even now, while I do feel quite a bit better, there are still vestiges, such as jags of coughing and/or sneezing and a nose running like Huggins from Kansas State .

There were some doctors involved, such as Original Quack and my friendly neighborhood cardiologist, called on a Sunday afternoon when a brisk spate of coughing caused me to pull a muscle in my chest. Since I have never had a heart attack and have no first-hand experience in what it feels like to experience one, I was a bit disconcerted by a sharp pain in my chest, concerned enough to give Heart Quack a call at his home.

To mine and the utter amazement of the entire medical establishment, he quickly came by my house. House calls don’t seem to have gone the way of Duke Final Four appearances after all. After determining that I did not seem to be in any danger of imminent collapse and cardiac arrest, he stuck around to watch the unprepared and confused Tech team stumble through that loss to Directional Illinois, punctuated by what became a common sight down the stretch of Tech’s season, another double-digit loss while Seth mostly sat with his head in his hands.

The following day I paid a visit to the office of Cardiology Quack, where he put me through a battery of tests that indicated that my ticker was highly likely to keep me among the quick for at least a little longer. He augmented the prescriptions Original Quack had prescribed, antibiotics that had not been working worth a damn, with come fairly interesting stuff that kept me glued to my recliner for hours on end with little interest in anything other than contemplating the excellence of the modern pharmaceutical industry and how much the stuff I had in my possession might go for on the street.

I did not find out, electing instead to take it all. I could have used the cash, since during this time frame I had also undertaken a project designed to augment my income, which had taken a hit about last year at this time when I found myself spending much more time involved in extraneous stuff, such as recovering from surgery and attending to a dying mother, and still has not completely recovered.

Time spent alternating between bouts of sniffling, sneezing and coughing, journeys out to attempt to fatten my wallet and hours in my recliner stoned out of my mind due to Cardiology Quack’s prescribed elixir left precious little time or inclination to fool around with this Web page. I did take a stab a few times at attempting to pen something, but constantly having to stop to wipe mucus and phlegm off of a computer monitor does tend to break one’s concentration.

I would quickly give up the ghost and instead spend my Internet time engaged in usual activities such as reading the area papers, chuckling over the goofiness of message board loons [although when one has a pulled muscle in one’s chest laughter is most definitely NOT the best medicine] and gazing at young Asian ladies in various stages of undress. I figured I would eventually again feel well enough to write something. That time seems to be now.

There have been a few items of note that have popped up during my enforced and extended idleness. The hand wringing over the ACC’s rather substandard NCAA performance continues. Those enlightened sports writers, mostly from the Old North State, who are attempting to blame six teams getting bounced on the first weekend and Ol’ Roy’s Greatest Team Ever not receiving its just Final Four coronation on expansion seem laughable. Checked the final ACC standings, guys? The best explanation would seem to be that the ACC was overrated. Maybe Little Johnny and his boys in Grandover can work out a trade of Miami for Florida . I’m sure Mike Slive would be up for it.

Speaking of the Canes, it is highly amusing to follow the ongoing Orange Bowl saga, as attempts are made to repair the aged and decrepit relic before it falls down. The Dwarf Dyke’s demand that the taxpayers of Miami put up 100% of the 150 extra-large or so to keep the damn thing standing for another few years while the Canes keep all of the revenue does not seem to be getting a positive response from city parental units. The sorry state of Miami ’s football facilities seemed to have escaped the notice of that Denver consultant. One does recall the comments made by Phat Paul Dee when he announced that Uncle Fester had been goldsmithed, those of “I don’t care if the facilities are bad, the next coach has to win.” Those were the comments that made such a positive impression on Greg Schiano. We shall see how Randy Shannon’s policy of refusing to show recruits the stadium where they will be playing out of fear that sections of it will fall on them works out.

Then there is all of that amusing wailing coming from Kansas State . They seem to be upset that former coach Boh Huggins skipped out on them after one year to return home to frolic among the Cousins. Exactly what did they expect when they hired Thuggy Bear? A strong commitment to the highest standard of ethics has never exactly been one of Huggins’ strong suits. This is the guy who, during his time in Cincinnati , had more players sent to prison than attended graduation ceremonies.

Finally, there is the ongoing saga of senseless violence against Hokie Birds. This time around, they actually seem to have caught somebody. And lo and behold, it turns out to have been Hoos. That certainly drew attention away from algroh’s comments of “Not recruit wide receivers? Brilliant!”

As the Montgomery County legal authorities contemplate finally making an example of somebody for all of the damaged and ripped off Hokie Birds around Blacksburg , I’m sure it is sheer coincidence that the ‘somebody’ just happens to be a bunch of Hoo frat boys. Lousy timing, guys. Having some Hoos stand trial for grand larceny could really put a damper on this year’s Hoo Football Festivus. It’s a good thing Hoo AD Craig ‘I Bet Tubby Wishes He Had Taken This Job Now’ Littlepage has already conducted the Airing of Grievances with algroh. That ‘Beat Tech or Else’ ultimatum now seems to extend to the legal system.

For their part, those madcap and zany Hoo perps seem unconcerned. What’s a mere $10k in damage to somebody else’s property? Naturally, they have already called Daddy to write the check. In the event charges are actually brought, the bar at the Bulls and Bears Club will be a bit empty as Daddy heads to Blacksburg to try and keep the boys out of the slammer. William Morva could use some jail company. Or maybe they could pull their time in Idaho , kick starting algroh’s ‘ Boise or Bust’ 2007 campaign.

Those Hoos that don’t seem to understand what all of the fuss is about are acting like, well, Hoos. Strong fan support is not a hallmark of the Jeffersons . There do not seem to be statues of Wally Wahoo, or even of Sally, adorning downtown Hooville, although word has it that there are some of his faithful sidekick Hoo Boy outside of Hooville hairdressing salons.

This constitutes my attempt at getting back into the Web site saddle. I will attempt to update a tad more frequently than I have the past few weeks. For now, however, I feel a strong urge to take a swig of Cardiology Quack’s magic potion and head back to my recliner. Any stray germs have to be eradicated. After all, the Spring Game is right around the corner.

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