"O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A, Oklahoma, Oh, no!"

As I've said many times before, the Pac-10 comes first. So I can even get it up for a Sun Devil or Trojan, when there aren't any more attractive options. When the opponent is Oklahoma, though, I don't care what team I'm rooting for. Take the worst political tendencies of the South and fuse them with the worst political tendencies of the West, then throw in a landscape that's flat, formless and either too hot or too cold? No thanks. I've known some very cool people from the Sooner state -- Keith Sadler, for example -- and respect the Flaming Lips' loyalty to their place of origin. But that doesn't stop me from reveling right now.

Foot Balls

There was a time, of course, when football was a tad more sauvage than it is today:

I do miss that walk up from BART. Even when Strawberry Creek was running the color of antifreeze, the stroll was aesthetically appealing: the world's largest sort of deciduous and coniferous trees, sharing the same sylvan acreage; the curve of thin-leafed oak branches; LSB's Depression-style Egyptophilia; and, last but not least, this masterpiece of trebled meaning. If only they had beards, the perfection of it all would be too much to Bear.