A short time after John Coltrane died, Albert Ayler was visited by a celestial object of unknown origin proclaiming that he and his brother bore the mark of God on their foreheads. At age five, Pixies’ front man Black Francis observed a cigar-shaped missile hovering over his house while he played in the yard; his mother later revealed that the same object had appeared there when she was pregnant with him. I know a recovering librarian in Birmingham who lost a few hours of her life when an immense flash in the sky flooded the rental property she shared with two homosexuals from Mississippi.
Unexplained phenomena follow those who look for them. Last week, against one of the lowest of the lower-tier SEC teams, Alabama trailed at halftime and eked out a win via a legacy leg stepping up for an injured Jamie Christensen – a normal injury; this isn’t Northern Colorado! But for a 2-0 team, Alabama has left many questions unanswered.
What lies at the root of the red-zone problems?
Why has Kenneth Darby been bottled up?
When will defensive players fill the gaps (on the field and in the roster)?
The debate rages, but it could be worse.
Many people find comfort in the shadows. They’d prefer to believe the world fits neatly into a small package with no missing parts and an easy-to-follow instruction manual. This delusion leads the whackadoodles to say ludicrous things like man has never stepped foot on the moon and atrocious things like George W. Bush masterminded the 9/11 attacks. The dark comfort they find, the perverted solace, of an ordered world is worth thinking the order is out to get them: better to accept the New World Order than accept one lunatic with a god complex in a cave or one loser with a lucky shot from a book warehouse can fuck everybody’s shit up.
So if there are answers, like the devil, they are in the details:
Two fumbles.
Hip pointer and missed assignments on the right side of the line.
Soon (I hope).
But what about the mysteries in the sky and the conspiracies on the ground? Well, Ayler and the librarian were probably tripping worse than a one-legged double-dutcher. Ask Bart Sibrel what happens when you accuse Buzz Aldrin of faking it. And W? Please… he traded Sosa… before drug tests!
Black Francis? OK, that dude’s probably from space.
Roll Tide.
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