I’m with Hatchy. I could watch this all day.

It’s too bad I’m not registered to vote in Kentucky anymore because I would purposely vote against this guy just for having the nerve to run such a lame ad. Even worse is the bumper sticker you can get that says “Beat Duke, Vote Grayson.”

Political ads are as a rule pretty terrible, but this is really pathetic. And I’m pretty sure I might be even more offended at this ad if I was part of the fanbase he’s so shamelessly trying to exploit for votes.

When I saw this, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to smile or walk away as quickly as possible.

My brother, owner of the “I heart Butt Drugs” T-shirt I bought him for Christmas when I lived a short drive from Butt Drugs in southern Indiana, sent me a link to this video today.

The best part about it is it’s no spoof.

Butt Drugs is a real place in Corydon, Ind., and this video, well, it’s the first thing you’ll see if you go to their Web site.

“When I think drugs, I think Butt Drugs!”

A brand church, much like a traditional retail space, is defined by its architecture, rituals, and representatives. But in the elevated showcase, products are defined by a grander experience — one that taps into our sensory landscape through smells, sounds, and texture. The evolution of the brand church has not been forced upon consumers by overzealous brands. It is the logical extension of our attachment to the products with which we identify.

Borrowing from religion, brands are cherry-picking rituals to forge stronger brand identities. To a degree, this comes in response to shoppers who increasingly demand moral fiber and civic values from brands–outward expressions of positive endorsements, charity campaigns, or ethically religious business practices. The pinnacle of brand exposure is the hallowed space of the brand church. The most sophisticated brands ‘are those that not only anchor themselves in tradition but also adopt religious characteristics.’ It’s not much of a stretch to think of a few brand messiahs. Microsoft has Bill Gates (saving the world and passing the collection plate), Omnimedia has Martha (risen from the dead), and Apple has Steve Jobs (the second coming).

-Lucas Conley, in the book Obsessive Branding Disorder

This recent story about a couple getting married in an Apple Store with a minister dressed similar to Steve Jobs and quotes of the Apple CEO read during the ceremony only takes this metaphor of the brand church even further.

It’s probably cooler than getting married by a justice of the peace (boring), but still kind of embarrassing if you ask me.

“Shine” by Final Placement from sharity world on Vimeo.

I’m still having a hard time believing this is real.

(Hat Tip: See Jay Blog)

A tactician like big league manager Tony La Russa relies heavily on advanced scouting to look for ways to shift his outfield for a certain batter, good counts to hit and run on a particular pitcher and, according to Yahoo! Sports, the contents of a book he has no intention of reading.

St. Louis manager Tony La Russa received an advanced scouting report on the book and didn’t expect the release to disrupt the Cardinals’ camp.

“Somebody I knew read an advanced copy,” La Russa said prior to morning workouts. “He said that (Jay) said some stuff—it wasn’t really first-page-to-last-page damning stuff about Mark.”

Neither Mark McGwire nor La Russa plan to read the book.

“What’s the point?” La Russa said. “It’s stuff that’s already been gone over a bunch of times. I don’t know what it’s going to change.”

The saying isn’t original, but this design sure beats a lot of the other shirts I found online with the “Read books, not T-shirts” slogan on them. Seriously, why would I want to buy a t-shirt with words and no design on it for $18 from Zazzle or Cafepress when I could just make it myself?

Oh but wait, you can’t buy this shirt anyway. It’s sold out.

I was first introduced to Holden Caulfield my junior year of high school. Like most teenagers, I dreaded having to read books and write papers. I had a particularly difficult time with my English teacher, who spent the majority of the class period pandering to the best and the brightest in the front of the room. These, of course, were the ones who pined for her attention as she seized every opportunity to patronize me and the other slackers, stoners and wannabe anarchists sleeping in the back of the room.

When my teacher handed out the topic list for our novel writing assignment, I scanned through the list looking for names of authors that I knew. Of course, I had heard of Walt Whitman and Robert Frost, so those were my first choices. The problem was that those were also the only authors that the others students knew as well, so by the time the teacher made her way to the back of the classroom, I was forced to randomly pick a topic, which ended up being about some book I had never heard of called Catcher in the Rye. For the report, I was assigned to write about the main character Holden Caulfield, and the many ways that he loses his innocence in the story.

As the time came to go to the library at school to research our topics, my frustrations continued as I found researching Salinger and his novel to be very challenging. It didn’t help that several of my classmates bragged about how much information they found on Walt Whitman or John Steinbeck. So while most of the students merely glanced at the book that they were writing about, I was forced to get most of my information from reading the book itself.

As I began to flip the worn pages of the novel, it didn’t take long for me to realize that the author used a lot of foul language. After discovering this fact, I made a vain attempt to convince my mom that the book’s language was too vulgar for me to continue the report. Eventually, I was able to coax my mom into asking my teacher if I could change my topic, but my teacher would not budge.

Reluctantly, I continued reading the novel. As I followed the exploits of Holden Caulfield, I discovered an apathetic and sarcastic character to which I could relate. As I read about Holden’s struggles with isolation and loneliness and failure, I was able to gain perspective on my own.

Looking back to 15 years ago, I cannot honestly tell you anything that I wrote in that paper, or even what I received for a grade. I wish I could say that after reading the book, I immediately became the book lover and collector that I am today, but I was still young, still trying to figure out my place in the world.

I didn’t change overnight, but by my senior year, with the help of a new teacher, I started to appreciate literature. I started to read and write poetry, I helped edit my school’s literary magazine, and along with a few friends started our very own literary circle, dubbing ourselves The Meats in reference to The Beat Poets whose words we devoured and counter-culture style we emulated.

In college, I surrounded myself with classic literature; and, thanks to a local used bookstore, began to build a library of my own. I would go on to earn a degree in English literature, and eventually become an English teacher.  Holden Caulfield still sits in the back of my classroom trying to find his way. I hope that he finds it.

“In a segmented society, big-time college sports are one of the few avenues for large-scale communal participation. Mass college sports cross class lines. They induce large numbers of people in a region to stop, at the same time, and share common emotional experiences.

The crowds at big-time college sporting events do not sit passively, the way they do at a movie theater. They roar, suffer and invent chants (especially at Duke basketball games). Mass college sports are the emotional hubs at the center of vast networks of analysis, criticism and conversation. They generate loyalties that are less harmful than ethnic loyalties and emotional morality plays that are at once completely meaningless and totally consuming.

There are the obvious recruiting scandals and greedy coaches, but for all the sins, big-time college sports have become emotional reactors, helping to make university towns vibrant communities.”

-David Brooks