I failed to mention that we watched two outstanding movies over the weekend: In America and Big Fish. I freely admit I cried like a baby at the end of In America. Hey, throw in a story line about a baby being born prematurely with problems and you’re going to get me every time now that I’m a prospective father. I thought it was a charming, heartwarming movie full of outstanding performances. I really liked Big Fish as well. It’s one of those movies that makes you smile throughout, not just because it’s amusing, but because it is so well crafted. The man became his stories, and thus he became immortal. It’s not an idea that’s going to change the world, but it is a wonderful way of looking at how those you’ve loved and lost have made a mark on you, and how you will hopefully make a mark on others over the course of your life.

I caught a rerun of Newlyweds the other night and had to laugh at Nick watching his Bearcats in the NCAA tournament. At one point, while they’re getting absolutely worked by Illinois, he says, “That guy is hitting every effing shot. Somebody guard him.” I believe I’ve shouted that exact same analysis at the TV many times, although I tend to put the effing in front of guard rather than shot. “Someone effing guard him!”

It appears as though I’ll get out of any possibility of doing a draft log tonight as we have dinner plans. Fine with me, the prospective trades floating around are far more interesting than any actual in-draft drama this year. The city of Indianapolis offered its collective yawn towards the process by running a front page story not on potential Pacers trade or draft targets, but on Greg Oden, the local high school junior-to-be who just dominated a national high school camp. Everything I read about the kid is great, from his game to his family to his attitude. Getting this much attention, hype, and expectations at the age of 16 can doom a kid for failure. I hope he has the makeup and support structure to get through the next two years unscathed. Not even LeBron had this much hype at the same stage. Can you imagine people guaranteeing you’ll be the number one pick in the draft before your sophomore season has even ended?

There was some good crime in Indy this week. A couple of punk kids were driving around holding people up for their wallets. One victim phoned 911 and directed police to the house the kids had holed up in. The kids refused to come out when the police arrived, so teargas was tossed in and eventually they gave themselves up. What made it all so good was a shot of the pickup the kids were driving around. In the back window was a large sticker, nearly covering the entire pane, which said “Redneck” and was colored to mirror the Confederate flag. Outstanding, and not very surprising. Next time some older white person says they don’t understand why young black kids like to parade around like gangstas, remind them of how many white kids run around town proudly calling themselves rednecks. I think we’re even and can just move on.

Life’s pleasures: sitting on the deck on a cool June evening, sipping a beer, listening to the soft buzz of summer insects that are just starting to make their presence felt.

Why is it pretty much every PJ Harvey song I’ve ever heard, I’ve liked a lot, but I’ve never had any desire to buy one of her albums?

Be watching this space later today for a truly interactive experience. I found an interesting list of questions that’s worth sharing and getting comments on.