I think the Catholic Liturgical Calendar needs to have a new holy day of obligation: The Feast of the Blessed Grinch, the day after the 12 days of Christmas when every sign and symbol of the holiday is put into a bag and dragged back up the mountain where the Whos of Whoville can’t see it.
Three students and I toppled and chainsawed the big tree at the Chapel tonight. It’s always a bit anticlimactic: after three and half weeks without water, the tree is bone dry, and I’m guessing that it loses at least half of its weight, maybe more. We cut the wires, and instead of a satisfying “timber” sound, it just sorta goes “whooooosh” as it slumps to the ground. It did fall the wrong way, so we spent longer than usual extracting pine needles from the side rows, instead of the aisle that we’d cleared for it to fall into. Then it was sawed into about ten pieces and dragged outside to the back of the building to dry and crumble some more before the city comes to turn it into mulch.
Good riddance, Big Tree.
Worst Bands Synopsized:
The Worst Rock Bands Ever Competition has been synopsized into one easy-to-view page on my main website, here, for convenient linking or viewing. I’m getting savaged today over on the Clutch message boards for it. Which is interesting, since I’d expect the Motley Crue fanclub to react, but not the Clutch fans, given things like this or this or this or this on my website. I’m not sure what to make of being pilloried by the fans of a group I love. Ponder ponder ponder.