"There is no band"*

I came into my job thinking of it in Seven Samurai terms—you know, train the farmers to defend themselves against the bad guys, build a little camaraderie, celebrate our community. And I have progressed to Kill Bill terms—working solo and scratching off enemies one by stinking one.

Mind you, it is not really the academic matters that cause the strife. While most people today seem truly turned off by academics, I still find that magic in the classrooms, the books, and the conversations—those things that academics participate in when they’re not filing paperwork. Indeed, my love of debate is my five finger exploding heart technique.

But it’s been a wearying way lately, and I’m none too keen to follow through on the thoughts I've had about Donald Trump, Diddy, Ozzie Guillen, Steve Jobs, and Larry Brown. Nor can I comment on the entire section of books devoted to "leadership" at Borders. I won't even speculate on my evolving connection of Gramsci and John Dewey or hint that I am fascinated by the paradox of democratic leadership. I won't even wonder aloud why Nicholas Kristof feels the need to defend Mao in the latest Times Book Review. No. Pumpkin pie is in the oven, and the tea water is on the stove. It’s a night at home with no deadlines or meetings tomorrow.

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FWIW, I recorded an instrumental version of Fleetwood Mac’s “Think About Me” today, but I’ll keep that one to myself. It’s not quite soft rock and it’s not quite—how would you put it—good. But if you are in need of an instrumental fix, I suggest this. Really. It’ll put you in a better mood.

*Diddy