Hello There, Guest! (LoginRegister)

Post Reply 
The Future of the AAC
Author Message
ultraviolet Offline
Heisman
*

Posts: 6,713
Joined: Jan 2004
Reputation: 308
I Root For: ECU
Location:
Post: #41
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-22-2017 05:34 AM)TU4ever Wrote:  No idea who todge is but i've been here less than 2 weeks and know 2 things. . .

Cincinnati fans are going to whine every other post about how they're holding up the b-ball side, ignoring the fact the only reason they are winning the league is its a.down year for four other programs.

BC#1 should never comment about people posting bs, that accurately describes every post he has ever made. . .


I'll help you out

Fify

Sounds like you have what it takes for the long haul here.
02-23-2017 03:12 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Pony94 Offline
Moderator
*

Posts: 25,650
Joined: Apr 2004
Reputation: 1177
I Root For: SMU
Location: Bee Cave, TX
Post: #42
The Future of the AAC
Definitely not Todge. Going after Bearcats instead of Dem Coogs
02-23-2017 03:46 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Bearcats#1 Offline
Ad nauseam King
*

Posts: 45,310
Joined: Jun 2005
Reputation: 1224
I Root For: Pony94
Location: In your head.
Post: #43
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 03:46 PM)Pony94 Wrote:  Definitely not Todge. Going after Bearcats instead of Dem Coogs

not true… Todge has negative rep pointed me twice for complaining about his post length
02-23-2017 03:51 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
BigEastHomer Offline
Banned

Posts: 11,730
Joined: Oct 2011
I Root For:
Location:
Post: #44
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 03:46 PM)Pony94 Wrote:  Definitely not Todge. Going after Bearcats instead of Dem Coogs

If you're a mod, simply find out. All you have to do is compare IPs with these people.
02-23-2017 04:07 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
M1T4 Offline
Heisman
*

Posts: 5,288
Joined: Dec 2015
Reputation: 114
I Root For: Memphis
Location:
Post: #45
RE: The Future of the AAC
Please stop typing books in this threadv
02-23-2017 04:20 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
geosnooker2000 Offline
I got Cleopatra in the basement
*

Posts: 25,267
Joined: Aug 2006
Reputation: 1358
I Root For: Brandon
Location: Somerville, TN
Post: #46
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-22-2017 09:56 AM)The Brown Bull Wrote:  Seems the original post isn't about "The Future of the AAC" in so much is it is "What I want for the future of the ACC" which is irrelevant.

We are AAA Baseball and not a darn thing we can do about it. There is no template to get out of this. You can't look to TCU and Utah and say, do what they did. That was a different time and those are different schools. The only "City" school that I can think of that is at the Big Boy table is Pitt. Even they have a different situation being in a large state with only one LARGE state University. Temple is not treated the same as Pitt.

Even if you could get One best of the Rest Conference with say BYU, SDSU and Air Force or whomever....it doesn't really matter....that 6th conference will never be treated the same as the other five. I think the Power 4 is more likely than a Power 6. Follow the money.

Miami
Louisville
Feel free to add to my list...
02-23-2017 05:02 PM
Visit this user's website Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Hurricane Drummer Offline
All American
*

Posts: 4,784
Joined: Jul 2015
Reputation: 231
I Root For: Tulsa
Location:
Post: #47
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 04:20 PM)M1T4 Wrote:  Please stop typing books in this threadv

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?—Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster—tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?

But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand—miles of them—leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets avenues—north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?

Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries—stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.

But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes down its sighs like leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet all were vain, unless the shepherd's eye were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade knee-deep among Tiger-lilies—what is the one charm wanting?—Water—there is not a drop of water there! Were Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must needs have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in it. Besides, passengers get sea-sick—grow quarrelsome—don't sleep of nights—do not enjoy themselves much, as a general thing;—no, I never go as a passenger; nor, though I am something of a salt, do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or a Captain, or a Cook. I abandon the glory and distinction of such offices to those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever. It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself, without taking care of ships, barques, brigs, schooners, and what not. And as for going as cook,—though I confess there is considerable glory in that, a cook being a sort of officer on ship-board—yet, somehow, I never fancied broiling fowls;—though once broiled, judiciously buttered, and judgmatically salted and peppered, there is no one who will speak more respectfully, not to say reverentially, of a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse, that you see the mummies of those creatures in their huge bakehouses the pyramids.

No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the fore-castle, aloft there to the royal mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes. And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.

What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.

Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid,—what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition!

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the fore-castle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way—he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:
02-23-2017 05:08 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Attackcoog Offline
Moderator
*

Posts: 44,735
Joined: Oct 2011
Reputation: 2860
I Root For: Houston
Location:
Post: #48
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 03:46 PM)Pony94 Wrote:  Definitely not Todge. Going after Bearcats instead of Dem Coogs

You know your Todge.
02-23-2017 06:27 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Mestophalies Offline
1st String
*

Posts: 2,013
Joined: Oct 2011
Reputation: 146
I Root For: USF
Location: Florida
Post: #49
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 05:08 PM)Hurricane Drummer Wrote:  
(02-23-2017 04:20 PM)M1T4 Wrote:  Please stop typing books in this threadv

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?—Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster—tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?

But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand—miles of them—leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets avenues—north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?

Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries—stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.

But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes down its sighs like leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet all were vain, unless the shepherd's eye were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade knee-deep among Tiger-lilies—what is the one charm wanting?—Water—there is not a drop of water there! Were Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must needs have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in it. Besides, passengers get sea-sick—grow quarrelsome—don't sleep of nights—do not enjoy themselves much, as a general thing;—no, I never go as a passenger; nor, though I am something of a salt, do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or a Captain, or a Cook. I abandon the glory and distinction of such offices to those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever. It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself, without taking care of ships, barques, brigs, schooners, and what not. And as for going as cook,—though I confess there is considerable glory in that, a cook being a sort of officer on ship-board—yet, somehow, I never fancied broiling fowls;—though once broiled, judiciously buttered, and judgmatically salted and peppered, there is no one who will speak more respectfully, not to say reverentially, of a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse, that you see the mummies of those creatures in their huge bakehouses the pyramids.

No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the fore-castle, aloft there to the royal mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes. And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.

What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.

Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid,—what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition!

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the fore-castle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way—he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:

^^^ Plagiarism. 04-chairshot
02-23-2017 06:28 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
slhNavy91 Online
Heisman
*

Posts: 7,851
Joined: Jul 2015
Reputation: 1622
I Root For: Navy
Location:
Post: #50
RE: The Future of the AAC
Please say that you actually TYPED this book in this thread, too...

Well done
02-23-2017 08:21 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
CougarPoop Offline
Special Teams
*

Posts: 534
Joined: Nov 2007
Reputation: 41
I Root For: The DOW!!!
Location: Livable Forest, TX
Post: #51
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 05:08 PM)Hurricane Drummer Wrote:  
(02-23-2017 04:20 PM)M1T4 Wrote:  Please stop typing books in this threadv

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?—Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster—tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?

But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand—miles of them—leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets avenues—north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?

Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries—stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.

But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes down its sighs like leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet all were vain, unless the shepherd's eye were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade knee-deep among Tiger-lilies—what is the one charm wanting?—Water—there is not a drop of water there! Were Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must needs have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in it. Besides, passengers get sea-sick—grow quarrelsome—don't sleep of nights—do not enjoy themselves much, as a general thing;—no, I never go as a passenger; nor, though I am something of a salt, do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or a Captain, or a Cook. I abandon the glory and distinction of such offices to those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever. It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself, without taking care of ships, barques, brigs, schooners, and what not. And as for going as cook,—though I confess there is considerable glory in that, a cook being a sort of officer on ship-board—yet, somehow, I never fancied broiling fowls;—though once broiled, judiciously buttered, and judgmatically salted and peppered, there is no one who will speak more respectfully, not to say reverentially, of a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse, that you see the mummies of those creatures in their huge bakehouses the pyramids.

No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the fore-castle, aloft there to the royal mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes. And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.

What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.

Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid,—what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition!

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the fore-castle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way—he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:

Good Post
02-23-2017 08:56 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Pony94 Offline
Moderator
*

Posts: 25,650
Joined: Apr 2004
Reputation: 1177
I Root For: SMU
Location: Bee Cave, TX
Post: #52
The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 04:07 PM)BigEastHomer Wrote:  
(02-23-2017 03:46 PM)Pony94 Wrote:  Definitely not Todge. Going after Bearcats instead of Dem Coogs

If you're a mod, simply find out. All you have to do is compare IPs with these people.

That's funny coming from you
02-23-2017 08:57 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
BigEastHomer Offline
Banned

Posts: 11,730
Joined: Oct 2011
I Root For:
Location:
Post: #53
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 08:57 PM)Pony94 Wrote:  
(02-23-2017 04:07 PM)BigEastHomer Wrote:  
(02-23-2017 03:46 PM)Pony94 Wrote:  Definitely not Todge. Going after Bearcats instead of Dem Coogs

If you're a mod, simply find out. All you have to do is compare IPs with these people.

That's funny coming from you

I have no qualms about you cross checking. It's simple enough.
02-23-2017 09:03 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Hurricane Drummer Offline
All American
*

Posts: 4,784
Joined: Jul 2015
Reputation: 231
I Root For: Tulsa
Location:
Post: #54
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 08:21 PM)slhNavy91 Wrote:  Please say that you actually TYPED this book in this thread, too...

Well done

I'm afraid I don't have THAT much free time lol
02-23-2017 09:22 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
JHS55 Offline
All American
*

Posts: 4,407
Joined: Jan 2016
Reputation: 173
I Root For: Houston
Location:
Post: #55
The Future of the AAC
Gosh, Iam sea sick after reading that!
Mybe reading it again will make me feel better...
02-28-2017 03:49 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Stay Cool Offline
The Masked Moderator
*

Posts: 8,218
Joined: Feb 2015
Reputation: 221
I Root For: NIU, tOSU, UC
Location: Dekalb, IL
Post: #56
RE: The Future of the AAC
Plz save NIU. Plz

Sent from my SM-G920P using Tapatalk
02-28-2017 07:44 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
USM@FTL Offline
All American
*

Posts: 3,639
Joined: Jan 2004
Reputation: 68
I Root For: Southern Miss
Location: Ft. Lauderdale, FL
Post: #57
RE: The Future of the AAC
This all gets torn up again in 10 years.
02-28-2017 08:35 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Phil Lacio Offline
Banned

Posts: 493
Joined: Dec 2016
I Root For: Ghetto State U.
Location:
Post: #58
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-21-2017 03:32 PM)TU4ever Wrote:  Here is the best move the AAC can make to strengthen its future now.

Get the Academies all in one division. Currently Air Force and Army offer the best returns from non-P5. Army is currently Independent so no conference issues there. Air Force is tougher with its membership in the MWC. Therefore we sould invite Army as football only and Air Force all sports.

Here are the arguments for each side in this deal.

The Academies get an extra out of conference game because the commander in chief trophy will exist in the conference. If they are aligned in the west with the private schools they will be under similar restrictions from academics and admittance requirememnts.

The conference, having the commander and chief trophy in the conference brings viewership and an automatic rivalry driven division (in particular if they are aligned with SMU, Tulsa, Houston, Memphis who have history with each other). While Army and Navy are in the east they bring national support/relevance and to a lesser degree Air Force as well. An entrance to the Denver/Colorado market.

Air Force, the pay out in the conference money and the television exposure would be better. The competitive side is a big step up from the mwc in olympic sports. Texas recruiting.

Army, a home for football, including bowl relationships, a bump in pay. Can keep olympic sports home in current conferences. Texas recruiting, championship game exposure, possible NY6 game.

So in football moving the acadamies to the west means no chance at commander and chief trophy rematches in the championship game. The teams should still have good away fans/crowds with their national support. Texas is full of patriotic football loving kids who play disciplined and often option oriented offenses for the academies to recruit. They are aligned with each other and two or three high academic standard private universities so competitivenss should be high.

Air Force, Army, Navy, Tulsa, SMU, Houston, Memphis

UConn, Temple, Cincinnati, ECU, USF, UCF, Tulane

Let's go crazy! After they commit more money to athletics and if they improve down the line, add Umass/Buffalo(AAU) to the east and BYU/Rice(AAU) to the west.
(This post was last modified: 02-28-2017 09:45 PM by Phil Lacio.)
02-28-2017 09:31 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Steve1981 Online
Heisman
*

Posts: 5,369
Joined: Nov 2010
Reputation: 258
I Root For: UMass
Location: North Quabbin Region
Post: #59
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-28-2017 09:31 PM)Phil Lacio Wrote:  
(02-21-2017 03:32 PM)TU4ever Wrote:  Here is the best move the AAC can make to strengthen its future now.

Get the Academies all in one division. Currently Air Force and Army offer the best returns from non-P5. Army is currently Independent so no conference issues there. Air Force is tougher with its membership in the MWC. Therefore we sould invite Army as football only and Air Force all sports.

Here are the arguments for each side in this deal.

The Academies get an extra out of conference game because the commander in chief trophy will exist in the conference. If they are aligned in the west with the private schools they will be under similar restrictions from academics and admittance requirememnts.

The conference, having the commander and chief trophy in the conference brings viewership and an automatic rivalry driven division (in particular if they are aligned with SMU, Tulsa, Houston, Memphis who have history with each other). While Army and Navy are in the east they bring national support/relevance and to a lesser degree Air Force as well. An entrance to the Denver/Colorado market.

Air Force, the pay out in the conference money and the television exposure would be better. The competitive side is a big step up from the mwc in olympic sports. Texas recruiting.

Army, a home for football, including bowl relationships, a bump in pay. Can keep olympic sports home in current conferences. Texas recruiting, championship game exposure, possible NY6 game.

So in football moving the acadamies to the west means no chance at commander and chief trophy rematches in the championship game. The teams should still have good away fans/crowds with their national support. Texas is full of patriotic football loving kids who play disciplined and often option oriented offenses for the academies to recruit. They are aligned with each other and two or three high academic standard private universities so competitivenss should be high.

Air Force, Army, Navy, Tulsa, SMU, Houston, Memphis

UConn, Temple, Cincinnati, ECU, USF, UCF, Tulane

Let's go crazy! After they commit more money to athletics and if they improve down the line, add Umass/Buffalo(AAU) to the east and BYU/Rice(AAU) to the west.

Definitely need to start scheduling right and winning. We've grown our athletic budget by 45% in the past five years from 25.2 Million in 2010 to 36.5M in 2015. We're taking this all very seriously and have hired the best available and perhaps the best G5 Defensive Coordinator, Ed Pinkham, from Western Michigan.
03-01-2017 11:09 AM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
isidnirb Offline
1st String
*

Posts: 1,391
Joined: May 2013
Reputation: 21
I Root For: ECU
Location: Charlotte
Post: #60
RE: The Future of the AAC
(02-23-2017 08:21 PM)slhNavy91 Wrote:  Please say that you actually TYPED this book in this thread, too...

Well done

And sadly how few know it is from Moby Dick. Just reading "Call me Ishmael" should be enough.
03-01-2017 12:16 PM
Find all posts by this user Quote this message in a reply
Post Reply 




User(s) browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)


Copyright © 2002-2024 Collegiate Sports Nation Bulletin Board System (CSNbbs), All Rights Reserved.
CSNbbs is an independent fan site and is in no way affiliated to the NCAA or any of the schools and conferences it represents.
This site monetizes links. FTC Disclosure.
We allow third-party companies to serve ads and/or collect certain anonymous information when you visit our web site. These companies may use non-personally identifiable information (e.g., click stream information, browser type, time and date, subject of advertisements clicked or scrolled over) during your visits to this and other Web sites in order to provide advertisements about goods and services likely to be of greater interest to you. These companies typically use a cookie or third party web beacon to collect this information. To learn more about this behavioral advertising practice or to opt-out of this type of advertising, you can visit http://www.networkadvertising.org.
Powered By MyBB, © 2002-2024 MyBB Group.