The Muse's Corner
By the Philosopher of Arena Football, Paul Celmer
As you will recall from last week's correspondence, The Muse treated me to a treatise on the tension between stochastic and deterministic methods of prognostication. I was still dumfounded by her words when I began to sense that there was still yet another force to be reckoned with.
After all, the muse had taught me about Mojo and the Wheel of Fair Fortuna. But there seemed to be an imbalance in this account.
After all, what could possibly be the reason for the Kansas City Brigade, an expansion team with only one win in ten games, exploding in a victory against the Los Angeles Avengers in week 11? All I knew was that the Muse would know.
After providing her the requisite gifts of a pack of unfiltered Camels, three nearly fresh slices of pepperoni pizza from DaVinci's Deli, and a bottle of Russian Vodka, the famed Muse of the Raleigh train station sang thus:
"Into the sable seas of dark Nyx
We must fearfully tread to get our fix
Upon on the stars in whirling mix
To complete the science of Prognostics.
There is in this world a counter-joy
Which to mathematicians’ numbers does destroy.
For a season lost burns the heart
Much worse than one QB on a cart.
But whence the frenzied desire to tear
The cross-town rival to tiny shards?
Seek this answer in high mountain-crag lair
For only there can we read the cards.
Tear your foes with groaning scars
And scatter them in the darkening sky
Thus give birth to bright new stars
That make the eternal night-time cry.
So fan the flames of searing despair
To let the Seer peer through air.
And drink the bitter tonic of pure hatred
So the un-slaked thirst for victory
Might at last be sated."
Who has the most hate in Week 12? In is not a pleasant thought, but that is the team that will win.
|
