Jennifer Finney Boylan in the New York Times comparing Basketball Head to Pepe LePew. Ms. Boylan’s pieces always disappoint me in a strange way that the Germans must have a word for: I read the Times to yell at it, not to enjoy it. When something appealing is published, it takes the fun out of it. Luckily, Ross Douthat is typing as we speak, so I’ll be back to full ire soon.

I did not know that the New Yorker‘s Nick Paumgarten was an Eagles fan when he called me a genius. I still accept his praise, and agree with it. Bonus points for living father. Generally, these pieces feature a dead dad and they’re unfuckingbearable: there is the obligatory scene at the grave; there is the required passed-down hat. No one needs any more “Thinkin’ about Dead Dad when [LONG-SUFFERING TEAM] wins” articles.

(You, Enthusiast, are in no danger of being presented with such an essay around these parts. While TotD does have the requisite dead father, we were Mets and Giants fans, and both of those teams have the courtesy to win championships every once in a while.)

Go google “ostrich + Philadelphia.”