A look at the past week, coupled with a Mason-esque look toward the future

Cast your steely, forever confused gaze onward and upward.

Follow Anthony Mason's lead, dear friends: Cast your steely, sweat-dappled, eternally confused gaze forever onward and upward. Believe in your dreams.

Week 2 at this is the city line. is in the books, and while I think we can agree it lacked the splash of the inaugural campaign, we still covered some pretty fun ground in this little corner of the Web.

I waxed serious in a Giants post-mortem, welcomed everyone’s favorite third-person-speaking, slap-catch-makin’, totally-not-retired-at-the-age-of-50 leadoff hitter to baseball’s Valhalla, engaged in some meaningless slapdash posting, wrote a hack obit that got picked up by the good people at uber-local Boston destination Universal Hub, and solidified what I earnestly pray will be this site’s lasting reputation in the weeks, months and years to come — as a sports/joke destination for insatiable and uncompromising pedophiles.

Coming up next week: Who knows, really?  I’ve got a few ideas percolating that haven’t yet fully formed (two in particular: IDing fun guest hosts for Cafe Oakley and exploring the possibility that Marcin Gortat and Artie, The Strongest Man in the World have a deep connection that hasn’t really been adequately probed by mainstream outlets or Blogfrica) and I’m sure the boundless creativity of the fantastic people I read every day will spark me, too.  Need to hunker down this weekend and get my idiotthink on.

As always, thanks for taking the time to visit, read and/or respond.  It’s mindblowing that you do.  Now come back Monday, y’hear?  This place isn’t the same without you guys.  I miss you like I miss Freaks and Geeks.

P.S.: Please join me in pouring out some of whatever you’re drinking — OJ, coffee, Mad Dog, whatever — in memory of Upside and Motor, the fantastic site that introduced us to the estimable talents of one Rob Mahoney.  (Oh, crap.  Hot tea all over the floor.  Fiancee’s gonna be PISSED.)

If you’re following his work at Matt Moore’s hoop genius collective Hardwood Paroxysm, you know that Mahoney’s got serious skills; if you’re not, you should start.  I don’t know him well — we’ve exchanged pleasantries via Twitter, he’s congratulated me on my engagement and on Goat Deini’s sight-unseen portrait of me, and I’ve dug his work; that’s about it — but he strikes me as a good egg, so I’m glad he’s taking what he feels is a positive next step in the evolution of his writing and his personal brand.  I’m sad to see U&M go by the wayside, but I am supremely confident that his soon-to-be-unveiled project will be every bit the appointment-reading destination that his last one was.  Sláinte, guy.

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