For IndyCar fans, we’re in that desolate mid-season patch of tedium that effects every sport. It’s a scorched & barren place alright, void of anything interesting or noteworthy and everybody’s a bit more jumpy than usual. It’s quite unpleasant. And exhausting. What do we talk about? What do we discuss? Why is my left arm tingling? 

On this date in 1789, citizens of Paris became so fed up with the French royal authority that they took up arms and STORMED THE BASTILLE. That’s where the phrase “STORM THE BASTILLE!” comes from, I believe.

Whenever I fill out my otherwise pathetic bracket that won’t win, there’s always that one upset I’ve chosen that fills me with great confidence & pride. I will marvel at my stroke of brilliance & feel like a gambling savant of some kind — one who has boldly gone against the grain (and all of society, for that matter). #12 [...]

♫ SHE’S HOT BLODDED, CHECK IT AND SEEEEEEE!!! SHE’S GOT A FEVER OF A HUNDRED AND… ♫ Oh I’m sorry. Didn’t notice you there. I was just vocally shredding the first album I ever purchased: Foreigner’s “Records.” Is it the WORST album ever made? Maybe. Probably. Almost certainly. But I only listened to it about 3 trillion [...]

It seems as though we’re experiencing some technical difficulties here. Which is to say, heavily armed outside forces are currently patrolling the Pagoda looking for any sign of dissonance or opposition. (JUST LIKE IN TEHRAN!! YAY!!!!!!) It’s uncomfortably crowded & shotgun-y in here, and getting meaningful work done is proving impossible.  

Some Inbox of Opportunity questions belong to the masses. To the people — but not the dumb ones. Because sometimes, a question comes along with such immense scope & importance, no one person should be entrusted with the power to answer it. Especially when that one person is me. Who, make no mistake, is exceedingly dumb. [...]

Indianapolis in December is a wonderful place. A wonderful, face-peeling, soul-raping salvo of God’s frigid hate. It’s a place where the arctic winds will murder your lungs, and where the only moving things on most nights are salt trucks. WELCOME TO THE WINTER INDY TWEETUP, EVERYBODY!! HOORAY!!! [excitedly throws 6-pound mountaineering mittens up in the air]