Clutch is key. You never know when you may be called upon to pull out the winning play - when everything rides on one crucial decision, that’s clutch.

I was with some friends at Red Robin this afternoon, celebrating the life and times of one Peter Crane, who will be heading back to greener mountains in Vermont this weekend.* The food was great…the service, not so much. We had to flag a second waiter to bring extra fries, and our original waiter never noticed that my “bottomless” drink had found bottom and was sitting, bottomed out, for quite some time. Not that he could have seen it, because after bringing our food he dropped off the face of the planet. Not only that, but once he returned I had to ask twice for a refill. So I was calculating the minimum tip I could give without being rude (always the firm believer in leaving a tip, however small, no matter what), when he came by again, this time with the clutch question:

“Would you like one to go?”

Now, I know they always offer to-go drink topoffs at RR. But usually it’s only soda; and in fact I asked for a Coke, thinking there’s no way he would bring a Blueberry Pomegranate Limeade to go. But sure enough, he brought out one overflowing with red, white, and blue goodness. I looked at Brad and he shrugged and said, simply, “Clutch.” And it was. His tip went from bare minimum back to standard 20% rounded up to the nearest convenient dollar increment. Why? Because that’s clutch. Because that’s bottom-of-the-ninth, 11th-hour, buzzer-beating clutch, that’s why.

* Did you see what I did there?

No, I was not hit by a car (though I did almost hit a deer). And no, I haven’t dropped off the face of the planet, though that trip is at the tail end of the planning stages, and I expect to go through with it in the next few months. I hear it’s quite a blast, though getting back on the face of the planet is kinda troublesome. Let’s just say that, with a new job position, new hours for that position, and new forms of recreation at a friend’s house, I haven’t really been home all that much to do a lot of blogging. And let’s face it - the age of the personal blog (excluding those blogs that are specifically focused on a certain topic or area of expertise) has just about seen it’s demise, courtesy of “new” (not really new, but perhaps mostly mature) outlets like Twitter and Facebook, to name a few. For self-published news digests, how-tos, and other related miscellany, blogs remain the sine quo non of their fields. But for personal communication, social networking sites have taken over as the new standard in forcing your up-to-the-second status on people. Hey, at least with blogs people could choose whether or not to view what you were having for dinner.

All that to say, things have been quiet around here, with the exception of that HCSB thread that keeps getting traffic on a consistent basis. To all who have commented - you should be receiving yours shortly. My source apologizes for the delay.

And what back-from-the-grave update would be complete without a notification that more bloggers have been added to the list? Check this out:

1. Title: GraceFlow
   • URL: http://www.graceflow.org
   • Author: J. D. Coleman
2. Title: The Mercied
   • URL: http://themercied.blogspot.com/
   • Author: Rebecca Phillips
3. Title: The Confessing Historian
   • URL: http://timtaylor.edublogs.org/
   • Author: Tim Taylor
4. Title: One Little Hour
   • URL: http://paulmatzko.edublogs.org
   • Author: Paul Matzko
5. Title: Cafe Biblia
   • URL: http://www.CafeBiblia.com
   • Author: Craig Johnson

Folks, I know what you’re thinking. How could I have found the worst driver in the 300,000-strong Greenville metro area? Simple. I nearly hit him/her this morning. Sir/Ma’am, if you somehow find this, do the following:

1. Have someone drive you to your nearest SC DOT office (for you, it’s Woodruff Rd.).
2. Turn in your driver’s license.
3. Ask them to note your file that you may not obtain another driver’s license without a notarized doctor’s evaluation stating your eyes work.

So here’s the story:
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The Quartet was on the road again this weekend (is on the road, rather - I’m typing this from a motel in Taylorville, IL) and we got to do something that I don’t think I’ll ever do again: sing the National Anthem at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Okay, so it was just us, the rest of the tour group, and a few guys who had paid big bucks for Allison Transmissions to take them for a spin around the 2.5 mile track in a pickup, but it was still pretty cool. When the tour guide found out our identity, he had us step up in the winners’ podium (where the National Anthem is typically sung at the Indy 500) and sing for the crowd. Expect a video on YouTube sometime after we get back.

After that coolness (not to mention all the other stuff there - the IMS is really a nifty place to tour) we went to sing at a church in Dennison, IL. After the service, we stepped outside and waited for the last folks from church to leave. That left us, Bussy, and a whole slew of stars above. It was so clear and so dark that we could barely pick out constellations for all the stars that were up there. I recognized the Big Dipper and Scorpio (I think), but the really neat thing was that from horizon to horizon there was a cloudy band of stars - that, folks, is the edge of our particular arm of the galaxy. Yes - the Milky Way Galaxy was spread out above us tonight. I’d heard about that but have never seen anything quite like it before, and let me say it was absolutely stunning. To see that many stars sprinkled above the earth like that…truly God is an amazing God!

So that’s all from IL. Go Eagles, go Penn State, and go Pig Sty Esquires, my fantasy team on ESPN, who are 1-0 after solidly trouncing Davey last week. Woo hoo!

As some of you know, my friend Jordan Poss recently returned from a few weeks in Germany attending a summer session of German language and culture courses at the University of Heidelberg. Props for finding something extremely cool to do over the summer, Jordan! Anywho, I managed to catch him on Google Talk as he was waiting for a connecting flight from Philadelphia to Atlanta a few days ago:

Jordan: well hello
Jordan: i was actually thinking of you--i'm in philly
me: no kidding?
me: get a cheesesteak
Jordan: nope--layover until 440
me: ooh...in the airport?
Jordan: yeah
me: best soft pretzels on the planet are in baggage claim/ground transportation
me: but you're leaving in half an hour
Jordan: nice--i'm all the way in terminal f, though
Jordan: yeah
Jordan: first thing i'm doing after landing in atl is going to five guys

Can I have an “amen”? First thing the man does after returning the U.S. of A. is go to Five Guys. Brings a tear to my eye…

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Today I had the joy to watch Ping Ngian, a good friend of mine, and Melanie get married at Mount Calvary. We here at mounty’s corner want to wish them all the best. I didn’t know Melanie that well, but Ping and I were freshman at BJ in the same year. He had just gotten out of military service in Singapore (required of all males over 18) and came to BJ. He missed society rush, so he just asked someone, “What society should I join?” The answer was: Z. So he did, and the rest is history. I was in Concert Choir and Chorale with Ping over the years, too. After their honeymoon in Colorado Springs, Ping and Melanie plan to return to Singapore where Ping will be pastoring a church there. Pictures will (eventually) be at Dave Miles’ gallery.
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I’m sure most people in Greenville will hate me for this (BTW, I just misspelled that town name - in an unusual irony, it came out as “GreenVILE”) but I just saw a great sunset…from the water’s edge at Clearwater Beach on the beautiful Gulf of Mexico. Fine white sand, a nice pleasant breeze, not too salty but definitely more robust than an inland breeze…it’s great. We’re singing at Hillsdale Baptist Church in Tampa Sunday morning and afternoon, but who could miss hitting the beach for the day before singing on Sunday?
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I just wrapped up watching an episode of the BBC drama Spooks (or MI-5 if you prefer the American designation, since apparently the original name of the show is a racial slur in parts of this country). It’s a bit of a cross between 24, your favorite flavor of CSI, and any number of James Bond ideas - a show about Britain’s national intelligence service (as opposed to the international version, MI-6…I think). Anyway, being a wholly British creation, and given Britain’s close ties to their cousins on the other side of the pond, American-based subplots will occasionally enter into the mix. One episode featured a nutcase from Florida - the actress was very likely British trying to affect an American southern accent. Another featured a rogue CIA agent creating havoc in the country - mostly fine except for the time his New York accent gave way to some variety of British vowels here and there. I imagine our overseas friends find Americans putting on British accents as funny as I found British folk putting on various American accents.
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Saw this just now on the weather map:

Watch - cute little red blob though it is now, it’ll probably land right over my apartment.

In true geek fashion, and after inspiration from visiting ThinkGeek.com, I whipped up this wallpaper. Thumb below; click for 1600×1200 version. For smaller monitors, just center the image and you’ll be fine, all the way down to 1024×768.

…somewhere in the early 1980s, the great poet/urban philosopher known only as “mounty” was born. Mounty helped shape a generation, teaching his followers to grow more cynical with each passing day; to look gift horses straight in the mouth; and to look for the clouds behind every silver lining. He championed the causes of strong coffee and witty office banter. And he was probably the number one cause of gray hairs for his professors at college…until 2007, that is, when, three days after his birthday, he finally graduated after seven long and productive years. History alone will be the judge of how this sage affected his generation.

Requiescat in pace, man - classes are done as of 11:00a this morning. Whee!

My recital’s done and over with. That’s a huge load off my shoulders! It went well - the mistakes that were made were largely unnoticeable if you’re not intimately familiar with the nuances of my facial expressions (which are quite nuanced, to the point that I can be quite excited without looking like it). I did have one of those “catharsis” moments right before my last piece on the program - some of you might have noticed the lopsided, almost goofy grin as I came back out. My last piece (from which the title was drawn) involved a chorus of 10 highly talented singers. The six girls in the group were to come onstage from the wing where I was hanging out, rehydrating, madly studying notes and words, etc. I stepped off after the Vaughan Williams selection, and they were all back there, a excited buzz in the air. Someone in the group wanted to know when they should leave the stage; I told them to wait until after I came back out for the customary “curtain call,” since “I [couldn’t] get back on while [they’re] getting off” (actual quote). Immediately, one of the girls piped up, “So…what are you saying? That we’re all fat?”
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As a friend of mine noted Friday afternoon (for an entirely different reason), “It’s the first day of summer.”

I’m thinking of writing a how-to manual. I will call it “How to OD on Life.” It will be grand.
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Q: How do you inspire paranoia among the student body AND raise money for Bible Conference?
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This Quartet trip has ended up being one of the most interesting I’ve taken in a very long time. Before I left campus, I called Terry to check where he was and to make sure everything was going peachy. They weren’t. In fact at 11:30a he was still in his driveway (he wanted to leave at 6:30a). But he assures me that he can get up and running and suggests I meet Barry (his brother and our fill-in baritone for the weekend) at the airport, fly in, go to the evening service (that we were supposed to sing in) and meet Terry and Mark when they came up later that night.
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The Quartet will be in Memphis this weekend…but I couldn’t take time from class at the start of the school year to join them on the road up there Thursday morning. Long story short (the details are kinda funny but can be summed up in one word: procrastination) they ended up renting me a car to drive down to Atlanta and catch a late flight up to Memphis. Actually cost less (in dollars) to do that then fly out of GSP. In any case, the car is nice. Very nice. It’s an ‘06 Solara; in fact it looks exactly like this one, right down to the color. Oy. I wish I had that thing for a few more days. It’s a “semi-auto” (or auto/stick) transmission - 5-speed, and either I or the car can choose when the transmissions moves. I’ll get pictures somehow and post them if I can. But, yeah, it’s a very nice set of wheels. I think I’ll enjoy the 2.5 hour ride to ATL tomorrow afternoon.

Oh, and check out this article from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. The Quartet has connections to the family mentioned in this article. I’ve had some strange “coincidental” gut feelings that things were going to turn out bad, but this really makes my experiences pale. Praise the Lord for the Kocejas’ safety…and next time you get a gut feeling about something bad, pay attention.

Concerning “meatloaf:”

A. Meat does not come in loafs; it comes in chunks.
B. “Meatloaf” is by definition either meat or loaf.
C. “Meatloaf” is in the shape of a loaf.
D. Since meat does not come in loafs, and since “meatloaf” is either meat or loaf, and since “meatloaf” looks more like a loaf, “meatloaf” is therefore not meat.

I must follow the cliche of all bloggers and bore you with the details of my journey home. To start, the trip is usually 10.5 hours - I-85 N to I-77 N to I-81 N to I-78 E to US-22 E to local roads to doorstep. This time, though, given all the rain and colder conditions in the mountains, I opted for a slightly more complicated route that was about as direct and avoided the mountains entirely: I-85 N to I-95 N to I-695 N (Baltimore) to I-83 N to I-81 N to I-78 E, etc. About twenty miles extra and no mountains. But there was rain. Boy, there was rain. I was starting to feel like Rob McKenna from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The road conditions got as favorable as “horrible” only once, usually living closer to “abysmal” and occasionally “blech.” I counted 17 separate accidents, five of which combined to add another two hours to my travel time. Think about it - that’s one accident every 40 miles, give or take. Thankfully I was not a participant in any of those, though I nearly felt what it would be like to have another car merge with mine. It’s all Fulton/Gwinnett county drivers - apologies to folks from the Greater Atlanta area, but - not making this up - every close call on the roads last night was with drivers from those two counties, including the clueless moron, bless his heart, that didn’t bother checking his mirrors or even looking out his window before leaving his lane and entering mine. But, accidents aside, I made it up in thirteen hours. And I get to do it all over again Tuesday. But it’s worth it - home always is.

I’ve just been informed that two more locations tried and failed to break the world record for Christmas carolers in one spot: an Alabama attempt fell short, as did an Irish attempt, though the latter did succeed in setting a European record. Still falls short of the world record, though.

As far as online news sources go, I haven’t been able to find any additional record attempts that have been publicized. Now, if I remember correctly, we didn’t do a lot of publicizing and figure-guessing before we made our attempt, just because even then there was competition that year. So it’s possible (though, this late in the game, not very likely) that someone out there is still planning something and hasn’t let any information go about it yet. Time will tell, but for now it appears BJU will continue to own a spot in the history books.