What the hey are ya talkin' 'bout?

Someone, who shall remain nameless (but whose name is Barney Wilton, if one were to attach a name to him), wanted to know what the hell was that last post about. Apparently, my writing has become too oblique. Or is it obtuse? Opaque! Oh, let's just call it hard to understand.

Well, Barney, let me just tell you that the bear is my volleyball enthusiasm and the tree is Nebraska. And Stanford. And Hannah Werth and 25-point games. And the NCAA Tournament Committee. And George W. Bush.

Beyond that, I will not elaborate. I reserve the right of opacity. Or obtusity. Or obliquitude.

Did you notice who just committed to Stanford? Howl, bear, howl!!

Just thinking...

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear the tortured screams of the bear it fell on, does the bear give a flying fuchsia-colored Frisbee?

This a rhetorical question. That is, I don't really care about the bear. He should have been paying attention, especially if he didn't have a buddy out there with him. A Hike Without a Plan is like a Cabin Without a Can. In short, you either have an outhouse or you're pooping in the woods.

Which brings us around to the upcoming volleyball season. The tree has fallen and the maimed bear is howling. Does anyone hear?