Kedzie's affiliated with the Mario Roberto Jiu-Jitsu Association (MRJJA), which is headquartered here in Rochester--where I train.
Kedzie didn't win, but she showed a ton of heart, took some serious shots, and kept right on fighting. This was a great Showtime debut for women's mixed martial arts (MMA).
So, I was just checking the weekend weather over at the Rochester Post-Bulletin's Web site.
Today: Partly Cloudy. High of 32. Low of 19.
Friday: Chance of snow. High of 32. Low of 25.
Saturday: Ice Pellets. High of 31. Low of 25.
Ice pellets? ICE PELLETS?! We're going to get hit with ICE PELLETS! That's a first. I've NEVER seen that as a forecast.
I can't believe I find myself looking forward to actually seeing an ice pellet storm. This can only be about the coolest thing to ever happen. EVER!
I don't like coconuts. There, I said it.
Oh, sure, I like some of what coconuts have to offer. I'm a big fan of coconut milk when it's applied to Thai green curry and other such edibles. On the other other hand, I despise the taste of coconut when it's in the form sprinkled on pastries. That stuff is horrid.
I know, I know: even uttering the word "coconut" is supposed to conjure images of tropical locales, sipping fruity beverages while lolling in a hammock strung between two palm trees, and a lazily rolling ocean surf tickling the ears. Fine. Whatever. You're entitled to your mental escapism.
For me, unfortunately, when I hear the word "coconut," I think of a musty basement and having my thumb smashed with a hammer. Hardly an idyllic coconut image.
As a child growing up here in Minnesota, a coconut, shall we say, was a bit of an oddity. A curiosity. Out of the ordinary. A tad alien.
So, when my neighbor friend, for whatever reason, managed to procure a coconut, it was the equivalent of finding a meteorite in the backyard. It led to one of those phone conversations that just sticks with you through the years due to its brevity and directness:
"Ryan, come on over. I have a coconut."
And so he did. It was a smallish sphere about the size of a volleyball, which looked like a ball of wood covered in spiny wooden hair. For some reason, my understanding of coconuts at that time was that they were considerably different than the odd item in front of me.
As most young males do when confronted with an unknown item, we decided the best course of action was probably to destroy the coconut. It wasn't just wanton destruction for destruction's sake, mind you. We somehow knew coconuts contained milk, and we wanted to sample that milk, so the logical means by which to get at the coconut milk was to smash it with a hammer.
So, we went down to the basement and took turns whacking at the coconut with a hammer. Unfortunately, since coconuts are round, it wasn't content to just sit still for its own destruction. If we hit the coconut even slightly off center, the mobile little nut would go skittering across the basement floor. So, we decided one of us would have to hold the dang thing still. You can probably guess who was the seleced coconut holder.
Now, I liked my neighbor friend just fine, but it occurred to me, despite having known him since I was one year old, I had never before actually seen him successfully hammer anything. And that realization came at about the same time he conducted a two-handed, come-from-behind-the-head hammer swing at the coconut, only to hit my left thumb so squarely, he couldn't have hit it so perfectly again in a million years and a billion tries.
My thumb, not surprisingly, was not in any way prepared for the pinpoint hammer assualt, and it made its displeasure known by shooting forth a geyser of blood directly into my neighbor friend's face, which of course caused both of us to start shrieking like banshees.
ME: AAHHHHHHH!
NEIGHBOR FRIEND: Eeeeeeeeeeee!
ME: Ooooooooooooo!
NEIGHBOR FRIEND: Gaaahhhhhh!
COCONUT: . . .
We finally collected ourselves enough to run upstairs, where we could continue shrieking, hopefully within the earshot of one of my neighbor friend's parental units. In this case, his mother arrived and tended to my squashed thumb, which a few weeks later would lose its protective thumb nail. Apparently, the thumb nail had decided, in the wake of such unwarrented hammer abuse, maybe my thumb wasn't the best place to be, after all.
As for the coconut, the mother was able to crack that puppy open for us and get at the milk, which we all tasted at the same time, only to realize too late that the milk was putridly sour.
So, yeah, coconuts. . . totally not worth it.
I should start this post with a preface:
Nick Coleman writes about people and events in the metro area. His column appears in the Metro section on Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.
So, with that in mind, consider the headline to his latest "column."
Nick Coleman: Illinois shows North Dakota what is the truly honorable thing
A Minnesota, Twin Cities metro columnist, writes about Illinois and North Dakota. Makes sense, I guess, in a totally nonsense sort of way. But, hey, it's the Strib, where nonsense is spelled N-E-W-S.
Chief Illiniwek gets the ax tonight. The Fighting Sioux nickname should be next. Sometimes, despite everything, there is progress.
Just not in anything Nick Coleman writes.
For 80 years, "Chief Illiniwek" has been what fans of the University of Illinois have called the barefoot white boys who have sported buckskin and feathers and aped American Indian dances during football and basketball games. The Chief is a throwback to the days when a conquering culture thought it could spoof racial stereotypes and "honor" people by making them into tumblers and clowns.
Yeah, like, say, the FIGHTING IRISH!
But after tonight, the Chief will be history.
In retiring him, Illinois will have succumbed to rulings from the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA).
"Succumbed" is the right word here. Kudos to Nick for accidentally getting something right, at least.
More importantly, Illinois will have bowed to common decency: You can't "honor" people by offending them.
Heaven forbid, the horrible specter of "offense," should rear its ugly head. Offending people nowadays is easier than making fun of Nick Coleman's writing, which is REALLY saying something.
Chief Illiniwek makes his last dance when the Illinois men's basketball team hosts Michigan. The end of the road for this symbol of -- what, exactly? White boy nimbleness? -- has not brought out the best in the students and alumni of Illinois. But it has proved that the NCAA is on the right track.
See, now, I imagine if the chosen dancer in question has historically been of Native American descent, Nick would have no problem with this tradition? Right? Yeah, I didn't think so. It's because the nefarious dancin' injuns have more often than not been white that Nick is so indignant. I'm sure it doesn't bother Nick, though, that the "indian" who famously shed a tear over trash "Iron Eyes Cody," wasn't even an indian. Where's Nick's outrage about that? Why, there's a Sicilian, shamelessly stereotyping the Native American tendency to weep in the presence of garbage. FOR SHAME!
"If They Get Rid of the Chief I'm Becoming a Racist" was the name of an online site joined by more than 100 students, whose vile posts about Indians showed they didn't need to worry about becoming racists.
They are well on the way.
Oh, good God, there goes the Journalistic Investigator-In-Chief, Nick Coleman, consulting an Internet site to make his point. This is the same guy who once used a commenter on Craigslist.com to anchor his column. His research is just impeccable. A whole 100 students, eh? Of the three U of Illinois campuses, there are nearly 70,000 students. That means Little Nick is using a sampling of .0014 of one percent to make his case. BRA-VO.
Still, the disappearance of an obnoxious minstrel act will be good for Illinois, and it may be good for North Dakota, too.
Speaking of an obnoxious minstrel act, we're in the middle of a Nick Coleman column. Ironical.
With each cleansing of a racial caricature from the sports scene, the pressure mounts on the "Fighting Sioux" logo and name of the University of North Dakota, which finds itself in a small rump group of nickname offenders.
Yeah, because "The Fighting Sioux," is just so offensive. Perhaps they should be renamed "The Creampuff Reservationists." Honestly, if it weren't for some Native American mascots and symbols, some people wouldn't even know what an "Indian" is.
At this point, the arguments North Dakota puts forward for keeping the name aren't the issue. The question is what kind of university wants to put its name and reputation through the wringer in defense of "honoring" a tribe whose representatives have said time and time again -- despite bogus claims by those who deny it -- that they don't consider it an honor to be reduced to a nickname.
Yeah, even though the logo itself was designed by a Native American. That must be a bogus claim. In 1969, a band of Sioux Indians from the Standing Rock Indian Reservation formally gave UND the right to use the name Fighting Sioux for its athletic teams. Only into today's culture of ridiculously alarmist political correctness could Nick Coleman get away with calling that a bogus claim.
Last fall, using alumni donations that would be better spent in the classroom, UND took the NCAA to court, challenging the group's finding that the "Fighting Sioux" logo and nickname are "hostile and abusive." Since many of the Sioux tribes in the Dakotas have come to the same conclusion, it would have been civil to bow to the NCAA ruling.
You know what? fuck it. Nick's right. Let's get rid of the Sioux logo and mascot. In fact, let's get rid of all Native American imagery completely. Let's re-name Minnesota, and the Dakotas, and Missouri and every other state with Native American connotations. I mean, they must offend SOMEONE, right? And, we don't want to offend ANYONE, because if someone takes offense to something, well, that positively means it's a bad thing. I can just imagine the renewed offense when, suddenly, Sioux imagery is erased from UND, replaced by Flickertail imagery. Yeah, THAT will go over like a turd in punch bowl.
Forget civility. When North Dakota honors Indians, they better stay "honored." The only good Indian is an honored Indian. What a waste of time and money by a university that remains in the thrall of dead casino operator and Nazi memorabilia collector Ralph Engelstad, who gave UND $100 million to build the Taj Mahal of hockey arenas and festooned it with thousands of Fighting Sioux logos so it would be easier to tear down than to remove them all.
There goes Nick again with his odd tirade against Nazi collector, Engelstad. As if that has anything to do with ANYTHING. This is how I imagine Coleman's brain works:
Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. NAZI. Fighting Sioux bad. NAZI. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad. Fighting Sioux bad.
Hmmm. Not a bad idea.
Yep, tear down a $100 million dollar hockey arena. That's Nick Coleman's idea of a decent idea. Thank God he doesn't have them very often.
Each time I write about this issue (I haven't since June), I am accused of knowing nothing about it.
Nick Coleman knows stuff, damnit! Now watch Nick hoist himself aloft upon his mighty high horse and snap into defensive mode.
Permit me: I have reported on racist nicknames and Indian issues for 20 years and wrote a lengthy magazine piece on the Fighting Sioux problem in 2001 that delved into the "Nazi memorabilia collector" (yes, I love to say that) part of Engelstad's past. You can find a copy online at: www.und.edu/org/bridges/coleman.html. Be sure to read about the matching life-size portraits of Hitler and Engelstad -- both in Nazi uniforms -- that Engelstad put on the walls at his secret Hitler birthday parties as a "joke."
Shorter Nick Coleman: I have written about Indian problems and a Nazi memorabilia collector, which I find to be inextricably related, for reasons that make sense only to me. I mean, seriously, what the fuck? The fact Engelstad was an eccentric Nazi-collecting nutjob has NOTHING TO DO WITH Indian problems.
You'll laugh yourself sick.
Hey, I do that when I read most of Nick's writing.
The university's misguided lawsuit goes to court in December. Even if it succeeds at overturning NCAA procedures, the NCAA says it simply will change its procedures and continue to enforce its eminently sensible and important conclusion:
The Fighting Sioux name and logo, like Chief Illiniwek, are relics of the past.
Not the honored past.
The shameful past.
One can only anxiously await the day when Nick Coleman is relagated to the same status.
For whatever reason, I actually got President's Day off this year. Plus, the temperature finally decided to get above freezing for the first time this month. So, I'm enjoying a nice day off.
Of course, tomorrow, I have to fly to Chicago at 6 a.m., and then fly back to Minnesota at 3 p.m., so while I'm enjoying today, I'm dreading tomorrow.
