OK, as you've seen I will soon have to move my little corner of the Web somewhere else. The only problem is, where?

Babson, sadly, does not have Web hosting. I've been looking at some of the free stuff, but haven't found anything I really like yet. There are some free services that are OK, but I fear that I'll somehow screw myself. There are a few others with reasonable fees, but I don't think I need all the Web services that come with it (though I suppose I could get my family all on a coen.com Web site).

So I'll figure this out at some point. My only real concerns are (a) affordability and (b) no pop-up or banner ads. A couple of the free services include a small banner on the page, which might not be so bad, but I have to take a look first.

Not much else new to report today. We were talking about Christmases past at lunch today, and it reminded me of a story my mom used to tell. When I was very small (probably no more than 3 or 4), I was all over my mom to get me "magic stairs" for Christmas. She had no idea what I meant by this, and being very small I couldn't give too much guidance. She trucked all over the North Shore trying to find this item (which she figured was some sort of toy), asking at every department, toy, and gift store she could find.

At some point after all of this searching, we were in a store one day, when I turned and pointed to a set of magic stairs. Turns out I wanted an escalator for Christmas. (Would have been a waste in a house with only 12 steps on its staircase, and the machinery would have blocked access to the basement, but what did I know?)

My mother was ready to commit some form of child abuse at that point, but managed not to. That she told this story at least once a year at holiday time leads me to think she got over it, but the Chia head gag gift I got when I first started to show some power alleys was probably related.

The end of an era:

"Our records indicate that you are no longer affiliated with Boston University. Therefore, your ACS account will expire at 5:00 A.M. on 18 December 2001. Unfortunately, due to the need to allocate computing resources to new students, we are unable to grant extensions beyond this date. Please be sure to download copies of any of your files, address books, or e-mail you might need later, well before your account expires."

I was going to write today on the similarities between my fantasy football team and the Patriots, both of whom have come back from the dead (relatively) to get back into the playoff hunt. It was going to compare a variety of personnel and schedule issues, and would have been interesting to no one.

What saved all of us from this fate was an article over on Boston.com that the USA is not just the richest and mightiest country in the world, but it's also the most swingin', as it leads all nations (or all those surveyed, at least) in a number of sexual categories, including total number of experiences, average number of partners, and average age of one's "first time."

Americans have roughly 25% more "encounters," twice as many partners, and starts having sex a full two years earlier than the global average. From a public health standpoint, this is a little worrisome, as it means that the risk for STIs, unwanted pregnancy, and the rest of the problems that can come with wanton carnality are up. On the other hand, with the economy in the dumper and everyone thinking they're going to go up in flames or down in a sea of spores, what's the harm in a little more lovin'?

In some respects, this should be no surprise. Extrapolate this from nations to individuals, and it makes perfect sense that the rich, powerful country gets all the nookie. More often than not, the hunk with the Porsche and the daddy who's a bank president gets the hottie over the guy driving an Escort who helps out in the family variety store. I know, when it comes down to it we love the person and not the things, but we're not talking love here. We're talking sex, and the alpha male (or female) reigns.

Looking at the countries involved, you have Canada, Holland, the Czechs, all very nice, kind of dull perhaps, getting some action but not running with the big dogs. How to explain that the "big dogs" include Greece, Croatia, and South Africa? Two theories:

1. Sex is, by and large, something you can still do for free. Or, considering a condom manufacturer sponsors the survey, for the price of some latex.

2. The countries are "exotic" or it's the accent. Almost every woman I've even met goes gaga for an Australian accent (though the Aussies rank surprisingly low). The same deal here (though, I suppose, most of the folks in the survey have an accent in comparison to me).

You'd think India and China would rank higher given their populations, but I'm assuming a combination of traditional social structures and poor contraception result in more pregnancy per encounter than usual.

Most interesting stat to me: Japan averaged out with 36 encounters a year, but with over 10 partners. You'd think such infrequency would make things seem brand new every time. Perhaps it's one of those TQM things.

Will anyone join me in petitioning Congress to replace "In God We Trust" with "If the Country's Rockin', Don't Come A-Knockin'" on our money?

The Thanksgiving just past marked a first in my life: the first Thanksgiving spent without another member of my immediate family. I opted to spend the time with Sarah and her family in Maine. While not a serious producer of angst, I was interested to see how this would go. And, when all was said and done, you know what the biggest difference was between this Thanksgiving and last?

The stuffing.

Sarah's mom makes stuffing the English way, meaning it's much more wet than what we usually cram into the bird. It also uses sausage meat, which makes the stuffing a meal in itself. Not that I was complaining, as I helped myself to good sized portions of it. The one drawback, though, is that the stuffing seems to, how shall I say, speed and intensify certain bodily processes. It didn't reach Blazing Saddles proportions, but, well, let's just leave it at that.

Our continued run of warm weather (don't get me started again) made its way up the coast, meaning that I was going around mid-coast Maine in late November without a coat on. Usually there's snow on the ground by now.

In any event, the nice weather facilitated a day trip to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park (though, as I think of it, it was probably the coldest day of the trip). We hit Acadia first. Acadia is best known for Cadillac Mountain, the highest peak on the Atlantic coast and the spot in the continental US that first sees daylight (can anyone guess what part of the US gets daylight before this? Email me if you think you know!). It's not that high (1500 feet, much shorter than I thought), and you can drive up it, so we did that.

Great views going up, but the summit was socked in. There's what appears to be sea grass on the summit, too, which is very hard to get one's head around. We did get a good picture of a tern sitting on the roof of a car. The owners of the car, clearly not sure what to do, decided to feed it God knows what from their car. Idiots.

We drove around, looking at some of the other things up there, but made a horrific discovery. All of the bathrooms were closed. This caused us to cut our visit short (never did find the Sieur de Mont spring) and head for Bar Harbor, with its well marked and signed public restroom facility.

Bar Harbor's downtown is full of the snooty tourist shops that one would find in any of the New England coastal towns where families in Volvos get "back to nature" at a rented house. Many of the shops have cutesy names, though the only one that comes to mind is Carmen Verandah's, a restaurant with outdoor dining (aside: their menu included sushi grade yellowtail that they then cooked. The whole idea of sushi grade fish is to EAT IT AS SUSHI.).

So it was a lot of high end knick-knacks and stuff, with about half the shops closed for the season. If you're looking for scrimshaw, T-shirts with Maine-related slogans, or overpriced confections, you're all set in Bar Harbor.

My only purchase was an $.85 glass of blueberry soda, served at the Rexall Drug lunch counter. Kind of funny that something like that would be a highlight, but consider how few drug stores still have a lunch counter or a soda fountain. I can get overpriced carvings at any number of places.

The other cultural highlight was our trip to Bangor on Saturday that included stops at the Wal-Mart, the Bangor Mall, and a Chinese buffet place which was quite good. Not much to add there, except that the Bangor Mall had the water massage tables that Jon Couture was going on about in his blog. Smaller lines, but none of us partook.

Wrapped up the trip with a visit to my sister, who seemed to like only having to deal with her family (and our aunt) on Thanksgiving. We got to meet their "new" dog (new to them, but it's about 12 years old), which only firms my resolve to get a dog. Perhaps not something that big and hairy (it's a golden lab), but a dog nevertheless.

There is something seriously wrong with the weather.

The Boston Globe's website currently lists the temperature in Boston at 69 degrees. SIXTY NINE DEGREES! It is November 16, 2001. This is not right.

I suppose I should revel in this very late spurt of Indian Summer, but it only confirms my belief that we're on the brink of really doing some serious damage to this planet. I remember growing up and having nuclear war be the big threat. The big difference here is that we can take apart nuclear weapons (see this week's summit between Bush and Putin). We can't do that with whatever has me walking around without a coat less than a week before Thanksgiving.

Not that this is unprecedented. I remember going to BU when I was in junior high to see the high school play for the eastern Massachusetts football title (divison 5, then the smallest). It was over 70 that day, the first Saturday in December. I certainly didn't worry then, but I suppose I knew less. There is something to be said for knowing just enough to be dangerous.

If anyone from the UN is reading, can you do something about this? You guys control the weather, right? And if not, what the hell is taking so long? We pay good money for you to start taking over the planet.

In an unrelated note, happy Ramadan if you're celebrating it. Sorry about the bombs. Perhaps what's left of the Taliban can help put an end to them by turning over you know who.

My last entry seemed to touch a cord, as both of my known regulars have commented on it, one in an email, and the other from a link on his own blog (which I'd link to here, except that I'm a moron). I wasn't expecting such feedback, and I have to admit it was a pretty nice ego boost.

The problem comes, of course, with following up. To use a baseball analogy, you can't hit a home run every time you're at the plate. So I suppose the answer may be to just let it flow, and take the whiffs with the dingers. I'm sure there's a more appropriate non-sports analogy I could use, but I like this one.

This situation also gives me a chance to plug one of my favorite books, Complete and Utter Failure by Neil Steinberg. In it there's a section on folks who peak early and fall to obscurity. I don't think I'm quite in the league of those mentioned there, but personally I hope that I can write more like I did on Sunday and less like, well, usual.

Anyway, moving to more typical topics, the Patriots' win on Sunday was both gratifying and worrisome. Gratifying in that the team is above .500, and Antowain Smith helped propel my fantasy football team to the same record. Worrisome in that if they only beat Buffalo by 10, what are our odds against St. Louis and New Orleans. I can only hope we get an honest to God winter night on Sunday, as that should slow the Rams down enough to keep things close.

Pointless stat for the day: since 1998, the Pats are 7-10 against teams from place names with more than one word in them.

More later!

Have you ever heard something that brought you back, even for a couple seconds, to a past moment in your life? I had one of those moments on Friday.

I was walking down campus to the post office, and passed the campus radio station, which pipes music to the outside on a small speaker. They were playing "Lucky Man" by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. That started the process, given my predeliction for prog rock and the song's age. I kept walking, and the song faded into the background.

Then came the second sound, the one that really took me back. The deep thrum of the wind as it passes through the trees, rustling the leaves on both branches and ground, rose up from everywhere. And for a few seconds, between that and the song (which was barely audible by then), I was back to grade school.

I remembered great days in the fall when you'd go to the high school football game, sneak in through the golf course, and not watch any of the game because you were playing pick-up games with friends (and the occasional team of kids from the opponent's town, games that often saw more punches than passes thrown). Then the walk home, hearing that thrum, smelling leaves burning and chimneys getting their first work of the season.

It was also the sound of any number of days playing in the woods around town, cutting through backyards and seeing what was back there in the land no one really used. Or the sound of home, when it was quiet (not often!) and the wind would get all the pine trees in the neighborhood to sway.

It was a lot for a few seconds. Then a truck out on Forest Street banged its empty trailer and it was back to now. Too bad.

Yesterday's mention of the The Simpsons got me thinking about TV in general. And now you're going to pay!

I have not seen many of the new shows for this season, and never will where some of them are concerned (see you in hell, Citizen Baines). There are a few that I keep meaning to catch but never do. Crossing Jordan, about a medical examiner who solves crimes, avoids the "Gen-Y Quincy" label by (a) being set in Boston, and (2) starring Jill Hennessey, who was the scrumptious Claire Kinkade on Law & Order, the original. It's on opposite Monday Night Football, and you think that the games, as crappy as most of them have been this year, would give me time to tune in. Maybe this week, as another AFC Central kickfest is on tap.

I've also had some interest in Law & Order: Criminal Intent to see just how far they can take the francise, and The Education of Max Bickford, just to see Richard Dreyfuss chew the scenery and illustrate why aging hippies entering their AARP years aren't pretty.

I have been watching Enterprise, which is entertaining but perhaps not the breathtaking re-invention of Trek that folks have been hoping for (not to mention, it may have the worst theme song in television history, worse even than that Friends song that drove everyone crazy when it was released as a single). Bakula is a good captain, but everyone else is just kind of there. The doctor is prickly, the Vulcan is logical, and so on.

Caught the premiere of 24, the show Fox would have hyped by shaving the numbers into the hairline of all World Series participants if possible. Pretty good, some interesting effects when they split the screen to show different people in different locations (how else can you do TV in real time and not stay in the same room?). The CIA cliches do get rolled out, most notably in the set design (a gleaming post-modern counter-terror office) and the technology, which apparently allows access to highly encripted bank records in minutes.

My biggest beef in the show is the casting of the character Nina, who is caught in some sort of love triangle with Kiefer Sutherland's character and Tony, a computer savvy John Turturro wannabe. The actress, whose name escapes me, played an old girlfriend on Ed and bugged the hell out of me there. Over an entire series... ugh.

I also got dragged into watching the premier of Temptation Island 2. Sarah is a delightful woman of numerable charms, a caring soul whose love and admiration is infinitely appreciated. But her taste in TV is really hit or miss. I will say, though, that I had a hard time concentrating on my book as four couples entered a Costa Rican paradise populated by bimbos and himbos alike. Most entertaining was the introduction of the "temptors," who all paraded onto the set wearing light blue hooded robes. It was like a deleted scene from "Animal House 3" or "Revenge of the Nerds: the Community College Years."

Pity The Tick for being wedged between this and Family Guy, a show of modest charms. Speaking of which, you had all best watch The Tick when it airs tonight (8:30 eastern, 7:30 central), or I'll be forced to... I don't know, whine about you here. Not the most effective threat.

Tom Menino got re-elected to his third full term last night. In his acceptance speech, he stated that he would strive to make this his "best term ever."

I don't know if Menino has speechwriters, but if he does (and I'm guessing he does, considering that his off the cuff speaking skills generally consist of mumbling and getting flustered), I hope they wrote that by accident. I'd hate to think they're funning on him by making him speak in Comic Book Guy language.

But should he ever drop a reference to Hi and Lois during a State of the City address, we'll have our answer.

Scant days after celebrating baseball breaking out of the clutches of the Evil Empire that ruled the postseason with an iron grip for years, "Commissioner" Bud Selig pops up and says, "hey, we think dropping a couple of teams is a swell idea," thereby confirming that the rapid expansion that marked the early part of his tenure was a gigantic mistake.

What is unfortunate is that the teams that appear like they're going to pay the price are two that have been around for a while. All speculation centers on the Montreal Expos and Minnesota Twins as bust up bait.

Why them? Montreal's case is pretty easy to state, given the lack of interest in the team, the unmitigated disaster of their stadium, and the general stupidity of the folks who've run and owned the team over the last decade.

What makes things too bad is that, if the Expos had any sort of stability, they'd be the dynasty people talk about. Imagine a rotation with both Pedro and the Big Unit and an offense with Larry Walker, Moises Alou (at least I think it was that Alou), and Vladi Guerrero.

So while I'll shed a tear at their demise (figuratively, at least), I can understand why they'll go.

The same cannot be said for the Minnesota Twins, who recenly awoke from many years of futility to make a run at the AL Central. The argument for their folding states that they can't turn a sustained profit.

Consider that, in the first year in some time that the team was successful, they did turn a modest profit. Perhaps ensuring future success would ensure future profits? Some lousy teams are profitable (hello Cubs), but for many teams their financial success is in some way related to their playing success. A lesson that many owners either don't want to hear or would prefer to ignore.

There's also the ugly little thought that Carl Polhad, the cold-blooded creature that owns the Twins, would likely get a payout well above the value of the team to close up shop. You may remember this is the same Polhad that jerked Kirby Puckett around during free agency at the height of Puckett's career. If you don't think Polhad would take the money and run, you probably thought the same thing about Robert Irsay, Art Modell, and Bud Adams. Of course, they got money, new stadia, and still got to play.

Especially vexing is the "commissioner"'s apparent collusion in all of this. Not surprising, given that Selig is himself an owner, who would probably see the value of his club increase if there were fewer of them. Not to mention that he'll likely get a decent player out of whatever dispersal draft is held. I'm sure Selig is discharging his duty impartially.

And I almost typed that with a straight face.

Question: why aren't the Florida Marlins, a team that consistently runs a deficit, plays in a football stadium, and has only been marginally competitive since their short term World Series success, an option for folding? Who, outside of a 30 mile radius of Miami (and I'm being generous with the radius) would give a damn if they disappeared?

Of course, for my money, you could also take any team out of a group consisting of Anaheim, Texas, Milwaukee, or Tampa Bay. Or all of them.

We'll have to wait and see where this leads, but I have an uneasy feeling about this. My hope is that this is some grandstand play by the Billionaire Boneheads Club to get a new stadium for one of its own. My fear is that it's not.

Honestly, I don't have that much on my mind today, but fear that leaving the "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" lyrics up too long may be creepy.

I did find out over the weekend that I have at least one reader, dispelling the myth that I've been typing into the wind all this time. A hearty Blogalicious thanks to Mrs. Allyson Harper-Nixon for actually reading this. Assuming you didn't quit after reading about my concern over Parmalat.

It's election day today, though without the frisson of last year, when even the most jaded citizen stayed up to see the networks claim that Al Gore had won Neptune. It is funny to think in all the furor over the election last year that most election (and election coverage) practices seem to be the same. Not that we've had a lot to measure by; the mayoral election in Boston today appears to be a formality, and the special election to fill Joe Moakley's seat just happened to fall on 9/11. It seems like the only place where I read anything about new voting technology anymore is the Wired website, and even that isn't what it once was.

I hope this is just the result of what's "news worthy" and not a typical out of mind, out of sight response. Americans are not always that good about learning a lesson and growing from it. Please see the second oil crisis of the 1970s as an example. My hope is that the 2004 election is chadless, but I don't expect it.

Oh, and my obligatory Patriots mention. They won over the Falcons in Atlanta, showing their more typical defense and one of the odder touchdowns I've seen when a pass to David Patten bounced off him and into the arms of Troy Brown, who was a good 5 yards away. They get Buffalo at home this week (damn well better be a win), then have the Rams and Saints back to back. They play the Rams at night, so one can hope that we get some nice mid-November weather right about then. It may be the only way to slow them down.

Ding Dong! The Witch is dead.
Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

Wake up, sleepy head
Rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead.
She's gone where the goblins go,
Below - below - below.
Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.
Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know
The Wicked Witch is dead!

I promised you an update about something I did last Friday, but have't come through yet, thanks to the European warm milk syndicate and a certain baseball team I refuse to mention. So here it is.

My girlfriend, the Sarah I keep referring to, doesn't read these pages. Well, she did once, but announced a boycott given my contention that she has a small but serious issue when it comes to driving directions. All of this is unfortunate, as my little story here is directly related to another of her little character traits.

With increasing frequency over the last few months (and not unrelated to the weddings we've attended and my brother's engagement), Sarah continues to inquire as to when she may get a diamond ring of her very own. Now while in many men this would induce some sort of low grade fever and hives, I'm very comfortable with the idea of marriage. I mean, we've been dating for over 2 years, living together for four or five months, and we've both pretty much admitted that we are beyond the point of no return as far as commitment goes.

Still, there's one issue at hand where engagment is concerned: money. I don't have any. Or, more specifically, I don't have any that isn't already earmarked for one of my various creditors, rapacious bloodsuckers one and all. This makes buying such an item difficult, especially when you add in a beleaguered credit history (those rapacious bloodsuckers again).

But on the financial plus side, my sibs and I are in the process of selling the family home. Not that many bites, given the current economic and social clime, but it would be a big chunk of change. Certainly enough for a ring.

Thus, off to the jewelry store we went. Oddly enough, Sarah was the more resistant of the two of us. All of her talk melted in the face of actually going to look, due to some non-specific "embarrasment." As I have noted before, Sarah is not one for speaking up, and I think this qualified. I made some noises about her perhaps not really wanting to do this, which cleared up her problems. Off to the Natick Mall!

We didn't have a specific plan, outside of going to a jewelry store, looking at some rings, and getting a definite ring size. We happened into Kay Jewelers, and after a little standing around looking, a very friendly woman came over and took us through things.

The good news, for me, is that anything over .75 carats looks really odd on Sarah's petitie hands. I don't mean to be a cheapskate about things, but this cleared a pretty big hurdle. The only problem we had is that they were pushing their own uncertified diamonds, which I'm not too crazy about. You have insurance issues there, and I'm not sure I trust their in-house grading.

Side note: if anyone reading this is able to take the "Gemstones" class the BU offers through the geology department, do it. It actually comes in handy in times like this.

Then came the expected "would you like to sign up for a Kay Card blah blah blah," which I figured would be a good out, as my credit causes card applications to burst into flames and wail in anguish. So you can imagine my surprise when I qualified for an amount just enough to purchase a ring. Hmm.

But I passed, saying I wanted to surprise Sarah. Which I do, but I also didn't want to commit right then to a ring I wasn't fully comfortable with. Kind of funny to think I'm the one doing most of the worrying here, but caveat emptor and all that.

All in all, it was a surprisingly calm experience. The sales person did make the assumption that we were going to buy then and there a little quick, but I suppose that's one of those sales things. I didn't plan to buy the actual ring there, but with the card I just may do so, at least to spread things out. Is it a trap? Probably. But outside of bubble gum machines, this is probably the best way I'm going to have to do this.

Unless someone wants to buy a house?

I think I'm going to cry.

The Diamondbacks had the Yankees down 3-1 going into the bottom of the 9th. Tino Martinez hits a 2 run homer to tie. Then fancy boy Derek Jeter wins it in the 10th with his own homer.

Will someone put a stake through the Yankee's hearts already? Can someone stand up and beat them down, please? Curt Schilling can only do so much, especially on short rest. This is intolerable. Please, please for the love of Mike can we just have someone else win the Series? Or why should I even bother? Or care

Fucking Yankees. Damn.