Why I hate Eastern Michigan University

Rounding out my triad of sports-related posts, I'd like to announce that I have sworn eternal vengeance against Eastern Michigan University.

Founded in 1849 as Eastern Michigan Normal School, the Ypsilanti-based school bills itself as "an extraordinarily practical, supportive, accessible, affordable and quality learning and living environment," where a "distinct mix of comprehensive academic resources, strong community initiatives, focus on education first, and nationally recognized undergraduate student research achievements set it apart." I have no reason to doubt any of this. No, my undying hatred lies in their 1991 decision to adopt "The Eagles" as their nickname. Does the world really need another generic school mascot? Within the Mid-American Conference alone, you'll find such creatively-named teams as the Akron "Zips" and the Kent State "Golden Flashes." It seems that Eastern isn't even trying.

Now, there are a number of good reasons why EMU's previous nicknames are no longer tenable:

• I can see why Normalites no longer works, give that the institution is no longer known as a "normal school" (that's old-timey talk for a teachers' college)
• Likewise, in these enlightened times, Men from Ypsi would exclude women's sports, though I can't see why "Women from Ypsi" wouldn't work.
• From 1929 to 1991, EMU athletes were known as Hurons - a name with local significance - but this name was dropped following a request by the State of Michigan that all schools in the state cease to use Native American names for mascots. Curiously, EMU's conference rivals, the Central Michigan University "Chippewas," ignored this request.
• For a short time following the above decision, EMU athletes were jokingly called the No-Names. Wonder why that didn't stick.
  

Hopefully, students, administrators, and alumni will finally realize that the answer has been under their noses for years. EMU's mascot should be the Emu! This large flightless bird, Dromaius novaehollandiae, is everything an athlete should strive to be: fleet-footed, with high endurance, and prone to occasional violence toward humans.

Take heed, Eastern Michigan University - become the EMU Emus or taste my wrath...at least until I find something else to be angry about.

Northwestern needs a new mascot

I have officially been at Northwestern University in various capacities - undergraduate student, staff member, and graduate student - for TEN YEARS. Yep, over one-third of my life has passed along Sheridan Road. That alone is a sobering thought - no question that ol' NU has been a good place to study and work, but ten years...wow.

Given the length of my own tenure on this campus, and the strong family connections (my father, uncle, and brother are alumni too), you might think that I would be an NU sports superfan, of the purple-bleeding variety, but I am not. This is for two reasons. The first is genetic - I come from a long line of sports-indifferent people, and, try as I might, I just can't get excited about college sports. The second reason, though, is a critical issue which I entreat the University to address for the sake of students past, present, and future: the mascot. Sorry, Willie - the wildcat needs to be replaced, for the following reasons.

First, let's look at the facts. The wildcat became NU's sports mascot completely by accident. Before the wildcat, NU's athletic nicknames included "The Fighting Methodists" and "Purple." I'm not a Methodist, but I'd be willing to be one on the field or in the stands. I don't know if the Wesleys were good at sports, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Eighteenth-century theologians aside, "Wildcat" name comes from a sportswriter's description of a football team's tenacity in a 1924 game. It is indeed the accidental mascot.

Second, I, one who knows nothing about sports, can name three big schools who are also "Wildcats," and probably more fittingly so:

• University of Kentucky
• University of Arizona
• Kansas State University

I've never been on the campus of K-State, but I can say with confidence that at least Kentucky and Arizona deserve the mascot more than Northwestern. The mountains around U of A's main campus in Tucson are home to bobcats and moutain lions. As far as UK goes, I don't know of any wild felids roaming the streets of Lexington, but I assure you that there are plenty of wildcats in the backwoods of the Bluegrass State. The closest thing that I've seen in Evanston are Lisa's four-legged hellions (which live off-campus) and the occasional skunk.

Moving into the land of opinion, nothing about NU really says "wildcat" to me. Why not pick something that taps into our history? Failing that, why not pick something unique or maybe a little off-the-wall? One needn't look far for inspiration. Consider some of the other school mascots out there. In the Big Ten alone, we have Badgers and Boilermakers. West of the Mississippi, you'll find Jayhawks, Cornhuskers, and Sooners. On the west coast, we have the Oregon Ducks, the Oregon State Beavers, and two gems from the University of California system - the Anteaters (UC Irvine) and, my favorite, the Banana Slugs (UC Santa Cruz). With the notable exception of the Anteaters, all of these tap into local history, culture, legends, or remarkable fauna. UC Irvine gets special dispensation because anteaters are pretty awesome even if they're not native to southern California. The bottom line is that there's no excuse for overusing sports mascots. I'm watching you, Spartans, Eagles, Tigers, Hawks, and Bears.

In the spirit of constructive criticism, I offer some suggestions for a replacement mascot.

• The Purple Monkeys
• The Jaywalkers
• The Flying Frances Willards¹
• The McLean Stevensons²
• The Prophets of "See, in 1851, this was considered the northwestern frontier, get it?"
• The Fighting "Steven Colbert is an alumnus and that makes us all a little cooler by extension"-s

Join me in writing the board of trustees on this critical issue. The time is now. Go U Purple Monkeys!

---

¹ Founder of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, one of the leading forces behind Prohibition. Probably a real party animal.
² Alumnus McLean Stevenson played the fictional University of Illinois alumnus Lt. Col. Henry Blake on M*A*S*H.

Announcing my new favorite sports team

My new favo(u)rite sports team is the Salmonbellies lacrosse team of New Westminster, British Columbia - a suburb of Vancouver.

How did this happen? Hypertext!

Dances with Wolves was on AMC the other day. I thought I recognized one of the actors from Northern Exposure. A quick search showed that I was correct (it was Floyd Red Crow Westerman, who played the recurring character "One Who Waits"). That should have been satisfaction enough, since I'm genetically impaired in my ability to recognize actors. Since I never know when to stop, though, I moved on to an article on Mr. Westerman's Northern Exposure cast-mate Elaine Miles, who played the doctor's secretary. That article contained a link to the Native American name controversy, which, in the section on Canadian terminology, linked to an article on Chinook jargon, the lingua franca of the old Pacific Northwest. Chinook jargon contains the word "hyak" or "hyack," meaning "fast" or "hurry," which became the nickname of the fire department of New Westminster, British Columbia, which is home to the Salmonbellies, one of Canada's oldest prfessional lacrosse teams.

But the greatest link of all came from the 'Bellies web site, where they link to their sponsor, Canadian Beaver Buzz Energy Drink. Nothing says "energy" like a scowling aquatic rodent with pupil-less eyes.

It's also worth noting that the New Westminster Fire Department "Hyacks" set off a 21-anvil salute every May as part of the Victoria Day festivities. Let the anvils ring, eh?

It's the Minnesota pickle

This is all Lisa's fault. The first time she sang a few bars of the Gedney pickle jingle, I was confused - Gedney brand pickles are not distributed here in the former Blagosphere. The second time she sang it, I became obsessed.

Dancing Pickle Warning: do not listen to this dumb song.

Gedney,
It's the Minnesota pickle.
Get me a Gedney
It's the Minnesota pickle.
Bring out more Gedney,
It's no ordinary pickle.
You betcha, Gedney -
It's the Minnesota pickle.

Buy them in New Ulm,
St. Cloud, Duluth, and Montevideo,
Rochester, Blaine, and even
Waaaay up in Warroad.

Gedney
It's the Minnesota pickle
They're good to...Gedney
It's the Minnesota pickle.
They taste good, Gedney,
It's no ordinary pickle.
You betcha, Gedney -
It's the Minnesota pickle.

The Gedney jingle contains a pickled road trip idea. Just for fun, let's have a look at how that trip might proceed from New Ulm, in south-central Minnesota, to Warroad, on Lake of the Woods, only 35 miles from the northernmost point in the conterminous United States. For the extra briney bonus factor, let's visit each place in the order in which they are mentioned.



It's interesting to compare different routing algorithms. The total length of the routes suggested by Google Maps and Microsoft MapPoint are within 75 miles, or about 6%, of each other. Away from the Interstate system, Google seems to prefer US highways while MapPoint seems biased to state roads.

For example, both direct us from Blaine to Warroad via Duluth, but the Google Maps route sends us north on US-53 through the Iron Range to International Falls and then west, while MapPoint directs us on state roads past Upper Red Lake to Rainy River. In this case, I think my preference would be to follow Google through the mountains.

Likewise, both algorithms suggest traveling between Montevideo and Rochester via the Twin Cities, but Google suggests US-212 over MapPoint's preferred SR-7. Personally, I have to side with MapPoint on this one, because Lisa and I were married just off SR-7 in Excelsior.

Oh, and take note: Stop #4 is pronounced "Monta-video." Video, as in Betamax. Observing the local pronunciation will avoid a faux-pas, which, after all, would put you in a real pickle.

Two snippets from work

1) The new accounting assistant goes by "Stacy," but her full name is "Athanasia." Avoid, avoid, avoid making jokes about the Arian heresy until I get to know her better.

2) Yesterday, several of us were eating our lunches together in the conference room while watching Arrested Development on Hulu. Professor D. walked in just as Jeffrey Tambor's character said, "The doctor said there were claw marks on the inside of her womb!" referring to the reluctant entry of Tony Hale's character into the world. Awkward.

Angry eagle taxes

This one's for Cousin Nancy:
Mr. Angry Eagle wants to do your taxes.


In this case, "angry eagle taxes" refers to tax preparation by an angry eagle, not taxation of angry eagles. I'm not aware of any state or federal taxes on disgruntled raptors. If there were, I imagine somebody would organize a mass bird-drowning in Boston Harbor, and that just doesn't seem right.

Seen in Shawano, Wisconsin. Sadly, the sign is not visible in Street View. You'll just have to trust me.

Lake Superior catnip

Work recently took me to the twin cities of Hurley and Ironwood, in Wisconsin and upper Michigan, respectively. We finished the job in the allotted time (important because we depended on the others' equipment for a substantial part of the job), so to celebrate, we ate an enormous dinner and drove a few miles north to a beach on Lake Superior. One member of the team suggested it would be fun to build a fire on the beach, and thanks to the availability of driftwood and partially burned logs from previous visitors' fires - and my new Estwing Long-Handled Camper's Axe (best purchase ever) - we soon had a cheery blaze. It was that fire that led to our meeting Jay.


As the fire crackled under twilight skies, a young man approached us and said, "Hi there, mind if I utilize your fire?" as he produced a can of Bush's Baked Beans from his bag. I wasn't sure what he meant by "utilize" our fire, but we assented and invited him to sit. After all, anyone who carries baked beans with him couldn't be all bad.

The bean-bearer, who identified himself as Jay, announced that he had just pedaled ninety miles from Tomahawk, Wisconsin to the beach we now shared, and that he was on a journey around the Great Lakes with no destination in mind. His journey had begun somewhere in Tennessee, and he had been wandering northward, alternately working as a farmhand and traveling by bus, train, or bummed rides. The bicycle, he said, was a "recent acquisition."

As the beans warmed, Jay sat down and took out some smoking materials and rolling papers. Before I realized what he was doing, he preemptively assured me, "It's not what you think - I mean, it's not the herb that you think it is." He lit the rolled product from our fire and continued: "It's not weed. It's, um...catnip. Yeah. It gives you a real mild buzz."

That's right - catnip. I chucked and said, "Well, it seems to work on cats," but he quickly corrected me, pointing out that "cats take it in a different way." Indeed. He offered the catnip joint to anyone who wanted to experience it. He seemed slightly disappointed that there were no takers. One of our group asked if smoking-grade catnip tastes like cat-grade 'nip smells. The answer was a definitive "no," without any elaboration.

By this time, the sun had set and the beans were out of the fire and the can cool enough to hold. Jay grabbed his beans, thanked us for the use of the fire, and disappeared into the darkness with his catnip stogie.

Happy trails, Jay. May no one harsh your mellow.