This blog has been blissfully debate-free since it's inception, but I figured I would deviate from that norm to brag briefly about Clancy the youngest.
Ben (author of the famed Duet of Dueling Emilys ) is debating at Greenhill this weekend, which is a pretty big tournament. After being undefeated in prelims, he just got his first TOC bid. He'll debate octos in a little bit. Updates throughout the day. Yay, Ben!!!!!!!
Update: Ben won octs, and is now in quarters. Go Ben! I also neglected to mention that he is being coached by Tommy, the most illusive of Clancy siblings around HON.
Update 2: He was a semi-finalist at the tournament, and was 12th place speaker. Congratulations!!
Showing posts with label Ben. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ben. Show all posts
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Ben is kind of a big deal
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Apparently there's a new emcee in town
I apologize, I still don't know how to do cuts. However, I just posted the first ever originally composed hip-hop lyrics on this blog, so you shouldn't care. In fact, just because I did something fresh and didn't cut the post at the same time, cutting posts has now become very, very uncool.
But, yeah. Lyrics.
Is this your iconoclast victory of epic proportions?
The rain and thunder that batter the threshold of my ideological doorstep?
Have you been counting my missteps, counting the poison drips
that filter through the sediment into the coffee I sip?
I bet you love watching me slip through the cracks
in the teeth of that luminescent smile you flash.
This is a fuselage crash, the dispersion of embers,
the sting of your cankers, the descent of ten thousand anchors
Take a step back, absorb what was just periphery.
Suddenly it seems the cityscapes not what it used to be
Suddenly it seems the asphault’s grown serpentine
and squirms into tourniquets that pinch off reality’s arteries.
You strike the first blow because you’ve gotten quicker
I can’t dodge because the static’s gotten thicker
while out in the car the children get sicker
because mommy spent the med money on liquor
It goes one two three one two three four
You can go if you want but don’t slam the door
Because when disturbed the sleepers love to make war
It goes one two three one two three four
I tighten up the saddle, lead the cavalry into the reef
because even monsters get engulfed by the swagger of the seas.
I sit back turn the tables in a way you’ve only heard tell of in fables
after months of swinging stable, looks like the bough's dropped the cradle
Gets burned, didn’t know who he pulled the pistols on
It goes one to three one to three four,
You can go if you want but please don’t slam the door
Because when disturbed the sleepers love to make war
Like they haven’t done this all before
Sunday, August 12, 2007
On a Duet of Dueling Emilys
This being my first contribution to this fine commune of voices, I would just like to state outright that I am not a pimp. Or at least not by choice. I have never purchased a cane without a disability to necessitate it (I haven't purchased one at all, but specificity is sometimes necessary). I do not wear a ring, let alone several rings beset with glamorous stones such as opal. I have a one o'clock curfew, and as such my ability to work the streets is severally mitigated. No, ladies and gentleman, it was never in my aspirations to be the panoptacon eyes on some poor woman who has not, yet, payed me my money.
However, recent events have led me to believe, that much like those born presupposed to athleticism, emotional instability, or the ability to fix a fax machine without slamming it repeatedly with their fists, I have the preternatural ability to draw to me Emilys from all walks of life. Or rather two Emilys, each baring differences, but from mostly the same upper middle class walk of life. I live in the suburbs; too much diversity cannot be expected.
The first Emily is blond, athletic and frequents the New Jersey coast. The second is darkhaired, brilliant and shares my taste in literature (we swap books, it's cute). Both want to be biochemists, which is eerie because no one wants to be a biochemist. I mean, obviously some people do, but not many. Certainly not enough for 100% percent of the Emily population in my life to seek the profession.
Anyway.
Recently both of these maidens have besieged me with request for my affection. As a man who, as I have explained, is not used to the pimping way of life, this shocked me. It always does. The beautiful, intellectual woman who show interest in me always mystify me. I am wirey, pimply and excessively inarticulate. Generally I can accept the affections of one girl as something of a romantic anomaly. I figure, after all, a fair percentage of the population certainly seems to be deranged, at least I end up with the cute ones. However, when it becomes so unlikely as to two girls of the same name and the same career aspiration take to me simultaneously, I am forced into a state of amazement that prevents me from reacting to the situation in any sensible way. Sometimes, you play the game. But sometimes there is so much game, you just don't know what you're playing anymore. And in my case, the mere presence of game is enough to set me out for the season.
So, in resolving the internal war that my feelings toward both Emilys were waging (tune in next week, for when this war is chronicled in the style of the Iliad) I came to the realization that perhaps the similarities of their names was no coincidence. Perhaps indeed it was to be a calling of mine, a gift from birth that had waited until now to unearth itself, to romance all the Emilys of the world. Not for indulgences sake, but for the sake of science. Yes, this was an epiphany. An inspiration of near biblical magnitude.
Therefore, I am withdrawing a loan with which to establish an institution for testing the romantic similarities (and dissimilarities) of all Emilys in the world. Particularly those with biochemical positions or aspirations. Contact information will be released shortly after establishment.
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