Racquet sports are some of my favorite due to their quick pace requiring rapid reactions and intuitive play. I find racquetball to be particularly enjoyable because of the extra walls. One usually thinks of walls as limiting influences, yet counterintuitively they substantially increase the number of different shots and positions that a game can evolve into. You simply won't find as much crazy play in the wide open courts that tennis, ping pong or badminton provide. In other words, to play inside a box you need to think outside the box. 

My friends and I have invented a three player variant of the sport that is currently called, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" (for example: this). I say "currently" since the rules of the game mandate that the champion choose a new moniker for the sport. In any case, it's packed full of "Allys", "Oops", overly convoluted scoring systems and a victory condition that frequently involves double, triple and at worst (best) quadruple jeopardy.

I shall not bandy nor mince in response to alleged contradictions declared herein, oh no. I shall simply OBJECT! As far as I know, nothing prevents an artist from having multiple muses, nor a does a professor cry out in aghast disbelief if a paper possess two sources. I simply wished that Neville's metallic sheen not be tarnished by this slapdash amalgamate that so often tries to pass itself off as coherence.


As to my life today, it seems as though little of consequence occurred. Yet, perhaps hindsight shall prove otherwise. For now, I am slightly sick, but such nuisances are passing, especially with the aid of eight grapefruits.

As to today's villain: I promised explosions, but I shall deliver so much more. Detonations are commonplace in the world of James Bond, but Goldeneye uses these expanding spheres of inferno as building blocks to create the wondrous intricacies of intrigue, terrorism, betrayal, vengeance, and furnishes it all in spades. Welcome to our programme, Alec Trevelyan. 

Former partner of Bond himself, Trevelyan is presumed dead after a mission in Russia goes horribly wrong. As it turns out, 006 survives and seeks revenge against M16 for his fate. Alec's hideous betrayal leaves the British Intelligence agency in a terrible position; one of its own top spies (capable of matching Bond suave for suave and debonair for debonair), with all the confidential information in the world at his disposal, now has it in for England. After much thought, he takes over the Russian underworld and conservatively settles on setting off the Soviet-era super-weapon Goldeneye on London. Of course, it all ends with 006 and 007 going at it, mano-y-mano, with the fate of the free world in the balance. "For England, James?"