We're now a couple of weeks into July, and you all know what that means: No, not quite time for another summer music list (It's in the works, I promise). It's time for my annual nomination of my wife for sainthood.
Wednesday marked nine years since my wife defied all the naysayers and said "I do", which looked for all the world like a massive mistake right up until she proceeded to give birth to the two most perfect little boys the world has ever seen. Now, as always, she looks like a genius -- I've learned (with her help, of course) to simply not question her in the first place.
Of course, I am expecting her nomination to be fast-tracked this year due to the fact that she not only still lives with me, but also with two miniature replicas who act pretty much exactly the way I did at their age.
Honey, I love you.
Like most people I know, I was more than a little put off by LeBron James's horrific mishandling of his decision to ditch his hometown Cleveland team for Miami.
I admit I did not think it was possible for James to inspire more enmity than Kobe Bryant, but the sadistic way in which he deliberately tortured Cleveland's fans was unforgivable.
Of course, if he and Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh have enough success that they keep Bryant and Derek Fisher from ever winning another championship, I will (rather easily) learn to live with my disappointment in "The Decision".
The World Cup came to an end Sunday in somewhat brutal fashion with Spain beating the Netherlands in the final after 30 extra minutes and approximately 347 yellow cards (but only one red card, or ejection).
Now that I have invested a full year in it, I think it is safe to say that I am now an honest-to-God soccer fan. A year ago, I never could have dreamed that I would watch more soccer than any other sport during the next 12 months.
Of course, when I was in college and listening to "When I Come Around" while pondering the overwhelming twitchiness of singer Billie Joe Armstrong, I never suspected he would one day be performing and winning awards at the Tonys, either.
The real winner in the World Cup tournament was, of course, Paul the Octopus, who is guaranteed to be the namesake of at least 50 German garage bands by the end of the summer.
The National League beat the American League 3-1 in the All-Star Game on Tuesday night, earning the NL's first win since 1996.
No word on whether the victors broke out into an impromptu rendition of the "Macarena" or scheduled a group viewing of "Twister" to celebrate.
Movie Brief
"Invictus": An enjoyable enough film about a spectacular real-life sports story. The film strangely lacks any chill scenes, but it is entertaining enough.
I could pretty much listen to Morgan Freeman read the poem "Invictus" all day long. I can't believe I did not hear such a movingly superb poem until I was 34 and saw it in a movie. By the time you read this, I will have it memorized.
Matt Damon gets kudos for complete mastery of a trickier-than-it-sounds South African accent.
Entertaining, but not great.
"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.
"In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbow'd.
"Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
"It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul."
William Ernest Henley
Jeremy A. Corley is the managing editor of The Anna-Melissa Tribune and the Van Alstyne Leader. Questions and comments can be sent to him at news@amtrib.com.