Why do I always think of the best nicknames after the fact?

When I was a freshman at theatre design conservatory one of our assignments was to design a soup can label. I made a label that my design teacher loved. It was very sleek, very modern, and was for gazpacho. I did not think of the Razpacho play until long after I had turned in this project.

Why oh why did I only think of "Razputin" recently?

I should have considered this nickname sometime in the winter of 2007.

Behold, Rasputin.

Razputin

Uncanny or what?

I am just over 25% done with Peace Corps. I cannot believe it.

A plane crashed at the Kingston Airport last night, about 5 miles from my house. I heard nothing but woke up to quite a commotion in Port Royal this morning.

I also woke up in the middle of the night last night to what was quite possibly the most extraordinary symphony of dogs barking I have ever experienced. This all happened about 4hrs after the plane crash and might be related. There is really no way of knowing. I did not wake up because of the dogs barking (I woke up from a bad dream and was incredibly thirsty) but I noticed the dogs barking because it made it that much harder to fall asleep.

Work is going well, although can be frustrating at times. We keep on having mechanical problems getting the aquaria up and running and it takes a long time to fix stuff around here. Hopefully once the center is up and running I will be able to spend more time doing outreach and education and less time trying to get ornery saltwater pumps to work. The past three weeks have been really slow, with lots of people on leave and not a lot going on.

I miss Ghana pretty bad but it is hard to pinpoint what I miss. I also miss Seattle, but in a totally different way.

I think that when we miss something or someone we not only miss that person or that thing, but we also miss the self that they bring out in us. Having identity reified by familiarity is a blessing and a curse I suppose. There is great liberation to be found in changes of context, but this process can still be lonely and scary. It is true that no matter where you are you are always in your own company, but I think the Xhosa saying that that "people are people through other people" is incredibly powerful and incredibly true.

I am reminded of the famous admissions essay prompt for Amherst College that went "Sartre said, 'Hell is other people'; but Streisand sang, 'People who need people/Are the luckiest people in the world.' With whom do you agree and why? Don't be icky."

I love this prompt, but it is too binary and taken literally as an either/or option it misses the point. The balance between self-definition and existence of self through encounter is the key tension in the dynamics of identity. I doubt if there is a clean resolution or perfect balance. So maybe a key to happiness is finding beauty and peace in eternal struggles like this one while also avoiding being icky?

Happy tidings of Yule, everyone.

I fully realize that getting the the Bear Corps Act passed into law and establishing Bear Corps is no easy feat, but I would like to point out that there is historical precedence of a bear being a part of an armored corps.

That's right. In World War II, a Polish artillery regiment had a bear that fought alongside them.

There is a pretty good wikipedia article about this bear. The bear also made badass of the week sometime ago.

If bears can leave their native lands and serve overseas in the name of war, surely they would also be willing to do so in the name of peace, right?

This idea is undoubtedly the best idea I have ever had. Who wants to sign my petition?

Years ago, inspired by boredom (and also possibly alcohol) I made a map showing monkey distribution around the globe.

The other day I got to thinking and I hypothesized that Peace Corps volunteers are disproportionately represented in monkeyland and totally under represented in bear country.

Fortunately, Mary was willing to work on this problem, and my hunch was correct. This map shows PCV, Monkey, and Bear distribution around the world. The results are very troubling.

One way to rectify this problem is to send PCVs into Bear Country, but this is ridiculous for reasons so obvious that they do not merit mention. A much more practical solution is for the US Government to launch BearCorps and send Bears to deserving places.

A petition is imminent. Now is the time for action.

Lastly, I know that the map mistakenly suggests that Polar Bears live in Antarctica. While this is sadly not the case, hopefully the first BearCorps volunteers will go to Antarctica and give that part of the world the Bears it deserves.

Oh, hello friends.

A few things.

Life is going pretty well here in Port Royal. They are keeping me really busy at the lab, and for the most part I am enjoying what I am doing. By the end of this experience I will know more about saltwater aquaria than I ever imagined I would know (as of this writing this is already true).

Last week I got to go diving for the first time since coming to the island. Three dives, none deeper than 40 feet or so. All dives were coral survey dives, and my job was to run the surveyors tape if the transect marker line was broken. Saw some pretty cool creatures. It was a good day.

I spent today at work, but will be hanging out with some other PCVs this weekend and will celebrate Thanksgiving with them.

I am about two weeks shy of being one-quarter through with Peace Corps. This is a pretty weird thought. The days have sometimes been slow, but the weeks have flown past. I hear that Peace Corps Time seems to accelerate as you get further along. I can believe it.

A couple stories in brief.

Story the first: There was a christian revival meeting in the street outside my house the other night when I wanted to go to bed. I went out for a minute to see what was going on, but ultimately decided that the whole affair was not for me. So I was in my room, trying to fall asleep, and generally none too pleased with what was going on. Then I reached up to get my water bottle, and managed to knock the heaviest book on my bookshelf (Infinite Jest) off the bookshelf and right onto my junk.

Story the second:

Yesterday I had this conversation with a friend from home who shall remain nameless.

Me: I saw the most amazing stingray this afternoon.

FFH: In the water?

Me: No. It was out walking around in a three piece suit. That is why it was so extraordinary!

It took some explaining before I understood that this person was actually asking if I was in the water. The answer is no. I was in a boat. But the stingray was amazing. They move beautifully.

I am in Jamaica and enjoying it.

My project is working with the Port Royal Marine Lab. I love it. I am living in Port Royal, work is down the street. A couple days ago we pulled a ten foot (dead) hammerhead shark out of the water. The shark is now in a tank with some preservatives, but it still stinks to high heaven. It has been a pretty weird few days.

I will write a fuller reflection on PC up to this point. Leaving Ghana was emotional, but my reception here has been wonderful.

I posted some pics of Ghana. They are on flickr. Enjoy. By the way, this girls is standing on a three inch layer of peanuts.

A friend recently said that after three weeks in a foreign place, you could write ten books, but after a year you would be hard pressed to write a good letter describing your place.

I've been here three months and I realize that most of my writing concerns me (boring) and not the environment here (interesting).

That said, a lot of what was really foreign and interesting at first now seems so completely normal that it is hard to write about. Amazing how relative normativity is.

Here are some things that merit mention.

1) There are WAY more animals here. It is actually really nice being able to throw orange peels or whatever on the ground knowing that a goat will soon make quick work of your trash. The animals are pretty entertaining too.

2) There are WAY more babies here. I am not sure if I have ever been to a place this fecund.

3) The tropics are, uh, entropic. They are entropical. Things deteriorate here in a manner that is pretty hard to fathom in the states. And yet...things also work. It is hard to really describe the aesthetics of decay and function here. I was in a minibus yesterday on my way from Fufulso to Tamale. We drove into an enormous downpour and everyone inside the car got soaked because the car was pretty much the most porous vehicle ever. Big holes in the floorboard, lots of holes in the roof. And yet, the car worked well enough to make the trip so despite being "decrepit" it was not truly "broken" in any functional sense.

4) In a homogeneous environment, difference really pops. I still have a hard time believing that I stand out as much as the other white people I see wandering around from time to time. But I know I do. I must. Even if I am wearing Ghanaian clothes.

Send off party was unbelievable. I have no idea how many people made it out, but the love was overpowering.

This will be the last post to this blog for awhile. Want to read what i am up to? Check out this blog, <a href="http://themostamazingthingjusthappened.blogspot.com/">http://themostamazingthingjusthappened.blogspot.com/</a>.

I will post here from time to time, but it will be rare.

Flying out tomorrow afternoon. Checking out of the hotel in five hours or so. Sleep is still a while off. Tomorrow will be a long day.

Love you all.

I promised to post my schedule, so that my whereabouts were sort of known during these last days I am in Seattle.

Sorry I did not do that. For the record though, I have had very little time that could be considered good "drop in" time.

But here is the sched, as best I can figure it for the rest of my time here.

Today: Currently working on getting my shit together at my mom's house. Inidentally, it looks as though I will have absolutely no problems keeping within the baggage requirements. It looks as though I will have ample room, will be a good 25% below the baggage weight restriction, and can even take a pillow (or two) with me. This makes me happy.

The rest of the day today is well and truly booked. Tomorrow is somewhat open, as I need to go shopping with Liz Nixon for party food, and I think my parents might want to do something as well.

I will be at Critical Mass tomorrow for at least the start of the ride. Sara and I have tickets to go see Circus Contraption at 8, but I will be there for the beginning.

Saturday all day party at Gasworks. Be there or be square.

I think Sunday is reserved for family.

Monday morning I am outta here.

Time is flying by. I think at some point you realize you can never be fully ready, but you are ready enough to go ahead with it and hang on tight and know that everything will be ok.

But this is still hard. This is very very hard. Been weepy here and there. I expect Monday will be a very difficult day indeed. I feel so lucky to be going to Philly of all places, where I can see my brother and get a hug.

Oh, hello LJ. Been awhile.

Quick update: I fly outta here on the 1st of June, pretty early in the aye em.

My going away party is at Gasworks Park on the 30th of May (last saturday of the month) and is an all-day drop in sort of affair. All are welcome. I'll have some grills going, bring some food or drink if you like. Adult beverages should be kept as discreetly as possible because I do not want to get into any trouble and I reserved the picnic area so I am liable. I will get there pretty early (10 or 11am or so) and intend to stay until after dusk.

Sara and I went tandem bike camping with Point 83 on the first weekend of May. All was well, until less than a mile into the return trip the rear derailer succumbed to chain suck and tore out the helicoil and bent the hanger. Alas, Galatea is out of commission and will likely remain so until I get back from PC. I just do not have the time to fix her right now, unfortunately.

We got back into Seattle in the afternoon of the 3rd and by that evening were in Bellingham asleep aboard my friend Christian's 27' Ericson sloop. The next day we set sail for Port Hardy, and by the following Sunday had made it as far north as Port McNeil. This is a distance of something a little greater than 250 nautical miles although the exact distance I do not remember. From Port McNeil we took a VERY long bus ride to Victoria and spent a couple days in Victoria before coming back to Seattle late Wednesday.

Ironically enough, after well over 100 hours on a small sailboat, it took Sara less than half an hour on the Victoria Clipper to toss her cookies. To her credit, the motion of the clipper is pretty uncomfortable, I foolishly adivsed against dramamine, and the Strait of Juan de Fuca was in the middle of a full gale during the crossing. It was blowing 40kts easy and there is hardly a boat that is comfortable in that amount of wind; especially not a big overpowered underloaded catamaran with a bunch of superstructure. As far as seasickness goes, she was a champ and by the end of the trip had managed to get down a couple saltines, some water, some ginger ale, and a lara bar.

Lastly, my remaining days in Seattle are EXTREMELY BUSY. This weekend I am OOT for a quick overnight sailing trip. Next weekend my mom is having her committment ceremony and I will have lots of family obligations starting Thursday. Plus I have my own to do list of things I must do and things I want to do. Still, spending time with friends is an enormous priority for me, as is getting some bike time in, some sailboat time in, and some pints in. Wanna kick it? Drop a line. My evening are pretty filled but my schedule flexes a little bit and I am all about making time for the people most important to me.

Trip home from Israel went without a hitch.

My grandfather dropped me off in Kiryat Shemona and I got on the first bus of the day to Tel Aviv. The national bus line of Israel (Egged) is a worker's co-op and as such they get away with things that we can hardly imagine in the states. Being the first bus of the day, it was packed to capacity and quite a few people were standing or sitting in the aisle or sitting in the stairwell. One soldier spent the entire 3.5 hour ride completely passed out in the aisle, with his backpack behind his head and his rifle clutched to his chest.

The Tel Aviv central bus terminal is a labyrinthine shopping center/bus terminal spread out over several levels with random haphazard escalators and ramps all over the place. It is filled with gaudy fixtures and kiosks and is a pretty amazing place when busy. I was there on a holiday and almost everything was closed and it was practically deserted. It was erie how quiet and tomb like the place was. As the holiday ended and the country started to move again (remember that Jewish holidays end after sundown) the place started to fill with the din of travel but for a while there it was spookily quiet.

Another couple buses and I was in Ben Gurion Airport (the new terminal--built by my cousin Avie) waiting for my flight. As expected, Israeli security was faster, easier, and less obtrusive than American security. Catching a tailwind, the 767 got into New York an hour early, and it was a good thing too because my original connection was pretty short and it took over an hour just to clear passport control and another twenty minutes going through the disgraceful charade that is American airport security. As it was, I got the gate just as they were boarding my seating group. Take-off and a lazy circle above Manhattan and I could see my old college in Westchester and it was beautiful. Five hours later we flew over Mt. Index and I could see Lake Serene and Rainier in the distance. A few minutes later my beautiful city spread out before me like a realist's canvas and we hit the runway and all was well. 24 hours running around Seattle before heading to Oregon, where I am now.

It was wonderful to see a few people on Thursday evening. Sorry I was so tired.

Friday afternoon Sara and I drove down to Portland for Filmed by Bike. We stayed a couple nights with my friends Charles and Genevieve in their wonderful home and had a blast riding around portland and hanging out with some great people. On Sunday we took 26 out to the Coast and drove down to Cape Lookout to spend the night within earshot of the surf. The day was warm and fair and beautiful. Yesterday we finished the three capes scenic loop and hit up then drove down to Newport before cutting East to Corvallis to see Mo. The drive down the coast was positively gorgeous. About the only bad moment came when I accidentally lit an Oregon State Parks picnic table on fire, but that is a different story (with pictures!) and the fire was put out quickly enough.

In Corvallis. Plan is to kick it here for a few days, maybe hit up the beach with Mo today or tomorrow and then head back to PDX Thursday some time to hang out with some Portland kids we did not see over the weekend. I'll be back in town on Friday afternoon and am free until Saturday May 2nd. Wanna hang out?

Hey, funemployed/funderemployed kids, If the weather looks cooperative, you guys want to head out to Middle Fork Snoqualmie mid week for a little 24 hour camping trip? We can light a fire by the river and sleep on beds of moss and go stargazing if it is clear. I can drive with room for three.

xoxo

Who got to touch a millenia old Phoenecian anchor today?

That's right. Me.

Dove the sunken harbor in Caesarea. Wandered around the ruins yesterday. Akko tomorrow. Falafel in fifteen minutes.

Current time: 19:45.

Current city: Haifa.

Current Temperature: 70f or so and clear.

State of shoes: still sorta sandy.

State of pants: need washing.

State of Raz: needs washing. Otherwise safe and happy and wanting falafel.

I have an unbelievable soreness in my left shoulder. Undoubtedly the after effect sailing in a gale and having the shit beaten out of me by a boat (that was getting the shit beaten out of it by the weather).

When I turn my head either direction, but especially to the left, it feels like a crowbar is prying my shoulder apart right at the shoulder blade. This is on top of a constant feeling of something with less leverage than a crowbar (ripping hammer?) trying to tear off my left arm.

2000mgs of ibuprofen into the day and I still hurt like hell.

In addition to physical soreness. I am still shaken up from the race on Saturday. Estimating (correctly) that the gale would hit sooner rather than later, I canceled the class I was supposed to teach at CWB on Sunday and Sunday turned out to be mad chill, what with brunch on the hill and zen times Chez Mom watching the weather and making soup. Yesterday was pretty winning too. I got a lot done and spent some quality time with quality people in quality joints.

Today was given over largely to getting some shit sorted out in preparation for

a) moving out of my house on sunday

b) leaving the country for three weeks and change on Tuesday and

c) leaving the country for 2.5ish years at the end of May.

Sail Race yesterday on Puget Sound. I nearly fell in about two minutes into the race. I slid down the deck and under the lifelines. I managed to grab a stanchion as my body slid off the boat. The water came up to mid-thigh or so, but we were going so fast and we were heeled so far over that I was pretty much scooped into the boat. I was in the drink for maybe 10 seconds. Water did not even get under my foulies.

The regular spinnaker got caught on the vang tackle as we tried to hoist and ended up getting a 15" hole. We raised the backup chute and instantly were on a full plane, going at least 12kts surfing down waves. This lasted for maybe 20 minutes before the winds just got insane (35kts solid) and we found ourselves sledding downwind in a full gale.

A huge gust (45+) and a 5' wave ended up taking us out in a broach. The skipper lost all steerage as the wave surged past and as the boom hit the water all I could hear was the rush of turbulent water and a "Here we go. Hold on!" from the skipper as the boat heeled to 90 degrees and we all held on. As the boat righted itself we saw that the impact of the water tore the spinnaker completely apart and we struggled to get it down. A few minutes later we had hoisted the jib and were struggling to maintain control as the bow wanted to dig and the boat tried to cock to weather.

Under main and jib we could not keep the boat pointed downwind and we kept on wiping out. With Edmonds on our Starboard bow we made the decision to abandon the race and head towards land. 1/2 hour later we were tied up, sails down, and grateful no one was hurt. We ultimately brought the trailer back from Shilshole, took the mast down and trailered the boat back.

The carnage from the day: Two boats hard aground on the shoal near Edmonds. Multiple cases of hypothermia from people dunked in the drink as their boats broached. One man overboard picked up by a different boat. One person who was taken off his boat when he had a heart attack. Countless sails damaged, many beyond repair, one broken boom.

I have seen some gnarly shit but I have never been as frightened as I was yesterday. Conditions like that are lethal. It was positively terrifying.

Otherwise.

Moving out of my house in a week.

Going to Israel a week from Tuesday.

The holding pattern is beginning to break up as I transition into a phase that will hopefully take me to August 2011. More on this in another post.

In some ways, June 1st is coming on furiously fast as a freight train and time passes so quickly my head spins.

In other ways, it cannot come fast enough.

What is weird is that time is passing both incredibly quickly and painfully slowly, all at the same time.

Over the years, I referred a great many of you to Dr. Patrick Kintner, my beloved and now retired dentist.

Without a single exception, everyone who visited him came back to me reporting that so long as he was practicing they would not see anyone else.

He sold his practice a few months ago. I have been to see his successor. The experience was terrible. I spoke with my parents (both patients of Dr. Kintner) and they had similarly unpleasant experiences. My mom described her behavior as classic gold-digging. When I asked what she meant, she told me that the new dentist wanted to replace a gold filling because "it is old". This gold filling was my grandfather's work and my mom was pretty convinced that her own father would do his best work on his daughter. When she visited another dentist, the dentist straight-up said "this filling will never be replaced. It is old, but it is beautiful. This is work meant to last a lifetime."

Pretty sketchy shit.

I highly advise everyone who formerly visited Kintner to not even bother with his replacement.

Instead, see this guy: Dr. David Russell. His practice is near Dr. Kintner's, just off the Burke Gilman trail. you can call his office at 206-524-6116. His staff was incredibly friendly, he was funny and informative. It was a great experience.

A week ago was my last day working at Trails.com. 21 months. Not a bad stint at all.

I leave for Ghana at the end of May. My dental clearance was set to expire the DAY BEFORE my service begins, so I had to get another exam etc. No biggie. At this point all is squared away.

I have taken very little time off since I began working. There was no pause between working at ECO and working at Trails, so except for a few very short vacations, I have really been working for three years solid. Prior to that, I was either in school, working during the summer, or working multiple survival jobs fresh out of college.

It is a nice feeling. Being frugal, I could survive for much longer than the amount of time until I depart. Essentially, I am taken care of through August 2011. This is a good feeling. I am more worried for others than I am for myself. Scary times indeed.

Otherwise I have enjoyed having this time. I am better rested than I have been in years. Tackling some project or task or number of tasks every day. Going for a bike ride midday when I feel like it. If only it were windier this past week I would consider my life quite ideal.

Had a hard conversation with Sara the other day. We have some things to sort out. To seize the bearings of the rumor mill, let me just say that we are fine but that we need to figure out some things before I go. This is to be expected.

I missed the Point 83 waffle ride yesterday in order to go to a friend's birthday party. I have no regrets. The company was fabulous and the night ended with an engaging talk of masculinity, Baudrillard, rhetorical awareness, and the nature of struggle.

Heather and I also had a very engaging discussion on the nature of economic liberalism and civil society. I have been thinking about this all day and am feeling the urge to revisit some Howard Zinn.

I am almost done co-teaching my first keelboat skipper class. It really is such a privilege to teach.

There was very little wind yesterday so we decided to do some compass work and then some navigation exercises. First order of the day was to make a compass deviation card.

As everyone is aware, in most places in the world there is a local variation between true north and magnetic north. What many people are not aware of though is that generally speaking magnetic north and the north shown by a magnetic compass are also not the same thing. They are much closer if you are using an orienteering compass in the woods and are not anywhere near ferrous rock, but on a boat, with the compass frequently mounted somewhere near an engine, with a keel that could well be made of iron, and hardware all over the place, the compass deviates from magnetic directions. This difference (called deviation) is describable and generally is expressed in a sin curve described through the 360 degrees of the compass. Most sailing ships (and all airplanes, I am told) have a document on board that is this sin curve drawn through a line representing the spread of the compass.

It is possible to adjust a compass to minimize the deviation, but it is nearly impossible to completely resolve it. Minimizing deviation involves moving two magnets within or very near the compass to compensate for deviation throughout the swing of the compass. On a large binnacle, there are two balls of solid iron mounted to horizontal slides on either side of the compass. These balls are to create a local magnetic field powerful enough to compensate for any other nearby disturbance, but not so powerful that the compass cannot rotate.

No matter, our first order of the day was to motor around using a GPS to give us very precise magnetic compass headings, and as we swung through 30 degree course changes, the deviation was determined by marking a compass heading at the moment that the boat was on a course determined by the GPS. What we found was that the compass deviated from magnetic north by as much as 11 degrees. A pretty big deviation indeed. We made a card so that we could correct for deviation and then proceeded to navigate.

With a compass card made, we broke the students up into two groups. One group stayed below deck with the charts, and the other group would drove the boat on the compass heading at the speed and for the time specified by the group below. The group above would also take fixes when called to do so to give the group below some idea of where they were and if their estimates were good. The first group was to motor from Webster Point to Yarrow Bay, and then to alter course and go to the Magnuson Park boat ramp. At the end of about an hour of motoring, the students below estimated that they had arrived at their location and told the students driving the boat to stop. Poking their heads above deck, they were astonished to find that they were about 200 yards offshore, with the Magnuson park boat ramp quite literally dead ahead.

The groups were switched and the new navigators were told to direct the boat handlers to motor back to Webster Point by way of Hunts Point. After an hour again of motoring, they estimated their position to be right at the mouth of the Montlake cut and came above decks to discover that indeed they were about 100 yards south of their estimated position, but still very near Webster Point.

Although it was not foggy when we did this exercise yesterday, the skills they learned are precisely the skills used when navigating in fog. Although they were allowed to take a fix once or twice throughout their journey, for the most part they were navigating on instruments alone. As it was, their dead reckoning was so thoughtful that every fix placed them more or less exactly where they guessed they were. They knew their heading, they made very good estimates of speed, and they marked time. Knowing direction, speed, and time traveled they were able to chart their course and navigate on instruments alone.

I am VERY disappointed that despite the obvious benefit of doing so, President Obama has thus far shown no interest in creating a special cabinet post for Aretha Franklin's hat.

Because DAMN! That is quite a hat.

GW BUSH exits DSR as the noise of a helicopter fills the space. The figures of BARACK OBAMA, MICHELLE OBAMA, JOE BIDEN and JILL BIDEN look up and are held in a wash of light. As the noise of the helicopter recedes, the wash dims and their figures are illuminated in a shaft of golden light. The light fades and their silhouettes are backlit in a vignette against the backdrop of the nation's capitol.

FIN

CURTAIN

Sail racing all day. Wind came up just in time for the races and vanished not two minutes after we crossed the finish. So much fun.

I never thought I would say this in Seattle in January, but I think I am slightly sunburned. Hooray!

I got an email from an ecological organization in Israel.

They got my resume, are wondering how long I will be around, and seem interested in having me on for a short period of time (a month or so).

If I recall correctly, this is the same organization that is building an eco-center near Mt. Carmel and that tells volunteers that they will sleep in hammocks inside of treehouses.

If this works out, it could be incredible. Need to get details figured out soon.

So, there is this amazingly awesome sailboat race currently underway.

It is called the Vendee Globe and it can be summed up in three words: Solo nonstop circumnavigation. I believe this race to be the most incredible and badass competitive endeavor in the world (with the possible exception of Buzkashi).

Ocean racing (esp. singlehanded or shorthanded racing) is very much so a French game so unsurprisingly the current leader is this French fellow named Michel Desjoyeaux. Called "The Professor" for his methodical, cerebral approach to sailing. His lead is an extraordinary 400 miles or so and growing every minute as he keeps a 3-3.5 knot edge in boat speed over his nearest opponents.

What makes his lead so extraordinary is this: he had to return to port 48 hours and 200 miles into the race. His boat suffered electrical problems just a few days after the start, and by the time he resumed the chase, the leaders were more than 600 miles ahead of him. The boats that sail this race are all of the same class, and very minor differences notwithstanding, they are extremely well matched. This means that to come from a deficit of more than 600 miles only to open up a lead of 400 miles requires skill that is simply mind blowing. Desjoyeaux has sailed absolutely flawlessly. His tactics have been brilliant, his technique flawless, and his judgment impeccable. I hope we wins this one. He deserves it.

According to my dad, I got an invitation to the inauguration.