McCain the McMan

I don't often enjoy talking politics, but this is big for me. My official nominee for the Republican presidency is John McCain. I get to vote this year, for the first time ever, and I intend to use that right to the best of my ability. Absentee ballot voter, I will be. And my choice for president will be *******.

Not telling yet, not sure who it'll be. If Huckabee or Romney come up as the Republican candidate, the choice will be easy. If McCain winds up by some chance as the nominee from the GOP, it'll be a little harder. Read a little something something on him and tell me what you think. He knows what he would do with the war and I see him as capable leadership material. His platform is reasonable, and even though I disagree with his thoughts on Social Security, chances are good that no reform would get through on that front. I'm not saying he's got my vote, but I would be very interested to see him face Hillary in a debate.

On a completely unrelated note, other than it being the reason for why I'm composing this post at almost twelve thirty in the AM, I just finished playing my first broomball game. I captain a team called Eastern Promises (we're all from East Quad, it was one in the morning, and I got to pick the team name. So there you go), and we just played our first game. We lost 1-0, which was a respectable score when you think about this: We play one guy for forty minutes (me) and five girls who rotate so four are on the ice at all times. Against a team of three guys, all over six feet tall, and two girls. So losing 1-0 isn't so terrible when you consider the fact that I did the face-off to begin the match against a guy a foot taller than me and at least twice my weight. I wouldn't say my body is a mass of bruises, but there are certainly places that hurt. No worries, though - helmets are worn at all times.

Ah, but I haven't explained what broomball is yet. Well, it's simple. Playing on one half of a hockey rink, two teams of five wearing tennis shoes and holding straight sticks with a little rubber flare at the bottom try and hit a little fluorescent orange soccer ball into the opposing team's goal, which is a regulation size hockey goal. Amidst much slipping, sliding and falling, the teams fight over possession, which often changes second by second. It's a hard-played game, made harder by the fact that I was running/sliding up and down the ice for forty minutes straight. Several falls and bruises later, I'm tired and sore, and ready to play again. Right now, though, sleep seems like a good plan. No class tomorrow means I get to sleep in until I have to go to work at one. And then it's the weekend...and more work, this time from noon to five at the bookstore. Then no plans until Sunday, when I'll be watching football all afternoon, evening and night. At some point during all this (probably tomorrow evening) I'll be writing my second paper for my German lit course, about Gottfried von Strassbourg's Tristan.

One last thing: the college had a guest speaker two nights ago who formally warned us about MySpace and Facebook pages, and how companies are using them to evaluate potential hirees. That's fine; nothing to worry about. No pictures with alcohol, no sex poses, no communist propaganda. But what about this blog? Dare I continue waxing liberal (well, not this post, obviously), saying what I think and not editing (except for swears, of course)? I personally think I'm safe. If it comes down to it, I'll make the thing private. It'll cut down my readership (still at record highs), but I'm willing to make the sacrifice. In a world where grocery carts will recommend things to buy based on your purchasing record, anything is possible, including employers screening the blogs of potential employees. By the way, join the Red Army.