Weekend free-staining

In fifth grade, I played the violin. In sixth grade, I didn't. Impressive right? I'm not the world's finest musical talent, but I'd like to think I could recognize some truly quality music if I heard it. I like to go to classical concerts and read the performer bios. I never know what any of it means, but doesn't that just make it more impressive? Even though I don't understand the terminology in the program or know the other famous musicians the current performer has studied under. I at least know that those things exist thanks to the program. It lets me know I should enjoy and appreciate this before the first note hits my ears. I'd like to think I would recognize that note for its pure technical and aesthetic beauty, but according to the Washington Post, that seems unlikely.

Another, very different, piece of news that I found particularly compelling deals with the Westboro Baptist Church. Best known for their "God Hates Fags" signs and their distasteful presence at the funerals of American soldiers killed in Iraq, Louis Theroux does a great spot for the BBC about them. He embeds himself within the Church and the family that makes up almost its entire membership. His insights and ability to draw out a real sense of both their jaw-dropping bigotry, but also their everyday humanity is well worth your time. Here's the link for the first part on YouTube. It's cut up into seven sections but the rest of the links are listed on the side.

To continue with my trend of posting links sent to me by a friend from high school (as the first two are also from him), we'll throw this out there as well. It's an interesting map from National Geographic about singleness and gender in America. The map convincingly validates my decision to move to the East Coast. I don't know exactly how much credibility I would give it. But it's something that's fun to talk about.

I had big plans to chime in on Iraq, political rhetoric, and everything else, but whenever I start to write about it, I become so disgusted with the issue du jour that I am left scouring ESPN.com for anything and everything that might distract me. That sort of willful apathy is all too common in an America where only those unlucky few who know soldiers fighting in the conflict pay the high price of the war. With that in mind, I sat down yesterday to read Newsweek's collection of letters from fallen soldiers. Perhaps, it's better to say I forced myself to read the article. I had seen it before and purposely avoided it. Much in the way that I have not seen United 93, though I own the DVD. Typical, I think of many people, I tell myself that I don't have the time or that when I have the time its not the right time to delve into that heavy sort of topic. But, this time it seemed important to read. Some soldiers, years younger than even me, were writing about the end of their lives. That's powerful stuff. Stuff that deserves to be read and remembered. I find it important to note that many of the soldiers spoke out strongly in favor of the war and the cause they ascribe to it. When they're the ones fighting, it's impossible to dismiss that moral and emotional force behind their argument. That's why I'm going to pass the buck to someone who said it far more succinctly and accurately than I am able to.

Although I had not planned to go huge on the Iraq discussion side of the post, apparently I thought I had it.

Even though this is tagged Not Sports, I have a small story that is loosely sports related. If you are one of our anti-sports readers, now would be a good stopping place

The other night I had a nightmare that I had dropped Chad Cordero from my fantasy baseball team because the Nats had decided they would not trade him under any circumstances. Then later, I found out this wasn't true and rushed home to grab him back up before he hit the waiver wire. I believed that this happened for at least the next 8 hours before I remembered it was a dream. That's not weird is it?