Why were the referees in The Game total jerkwads?

The OSU gloves were designed so that, when the thumbs and forefingers touched, the "O" appeared on the patterned palms.

So, when players made good plays, they demonstrated this. And were flagged for unsportsmanlike conduct.

Which is garbage. The kind of garbage that makes you want to accent the second syllable because it is so ludicrous and, for some reason, smacks of France.

This was the point of the gloves. Flag Nike if you want, but these kids don't deserve your wrath.

Why is ecclesiastical décor becoming so perverse?

Even in places where you'd think you'd be safe, you are not. St Paul's, Knightsbridge, for example, where they do almost everything right.

St Paul's is a charming church, an excellent example of an unapologetically Victorian style. It has good stained glass, noble Stations of the Cross, and a reredos with a crucifix, dripping with pathos. Being a reredos, this sits behind the rood screen, above the altar. As a reredos does.

But St Paul's, despite its high standards with regard to music, preaching, and (usually) liturgical practice, has moved the celebration of the Eucharist in front of the rood screen, with a dinky little fake altar and a few unprepossessing chairs for the clergy. This dinky little fake altar has, on its front, an enlarged photographic print of the face of Christ from the reredos. Really. I am not making this up.

Complete the thought! You have a high altar. If you used it, people would look at the reredos, and see the crucifix. The chancel of your church is lovely, and you should not pander to goons and Philistines by ignoring it.

(A possible mitigating circumstance is that I attended St Paul's in the summer, when they do a slightly un-dress service. That is, however, no excuse. Wear a stole and tippet if you like, I don't care. Just don't spurn and ruin the very good art that someone went to considerable effort to provide for you.)

Why was Kid Rock the half-time act at Detroit's Thanksgiving game?

Yes, it's Detroit, and they really don't have that many things going for them. Perhaps they even like Kid Rock, though it seems unlikely. Perhaps they didn't have to pay him much, and perhaps they were able to pay him in beer.

Not one of these circumstances excuses his presence on national television. The only thing he could possibly accomplish was to turn our pity for Detroit into censure. His execrable jacket, his awful jeans, his greasy hair and stupid hat--all these combine to produce a creature that inspires revulsion even before he opens his mouth. At which point, of course, it gets so much worse.

You're right, though, he wasn't much worse than the fake country Jonas Brothers who mangled the national anthem beyond recognition at the Cowboys game.

Why did my Chipotle run out of guacamole today?

Look, it was sort of a rough day, and just...I have no words for my disappointment.

Why do people wear sneakers with suits?

I know, I know: it's ironic.

Well, fie. Fie! Suits are real clothing for real people and if you want to wear Vans you can just wear your stupid over-narrow jeans instead.

Alternatively, suits are somewhat silly clothing for the Beatles, but you do not look like the Beatles if you pair your short, narrow sharkskin trousers with Chuck Taylors. You just look like an idiot.

So stop. Stop now.

Why is the new Dorian Gray film so ghastly?

It's been a few years since I read The Picture of Dorian Gray, but I am fairly certain that the 2009 film adaptation did not resemble it strongly. Which is a shame, because it's a good book and most of the casting was excellent; Ben Barnes is absurdly good-looking, and even if his other two major rôles include Prince Caspian, who is perhaps the least complicated character in the Narnia books, and a young man nicknamed "Panda," who is ineffectual to an extreme degree, he was an apt choice and could have been vastly worse.

Debauchery seems to have a higher bar set for it nowadays than it did in Wilde's time, and it is certainly treated less deftly than by Wilde's hand. I remember merely prostitutes and opium, but those apparently don't rate on our contemporary iniquity scale. This movie is not subtle, it is not allusive, and you will see considerably more blood than you bargained for. Victorian sensibilities are certainly appalled; I should know.

Also: the painting does not actually grow maggots. Nothing Dorian does in his life would cause it to do that, because at no point does he do anything that would turn him into a decomposing corpse. The portrait merely looks like a broken-down creature of dissipation. It is not actually putrefied, and it does not drop vermin on the carpets.

Why is there a store called "Pamper Ur Pets?"

Every time I pass it, I get this wonderful image of a pet store that caters to people who have extinct, less-evolved pets, like diprotodons. That would be stupendous.

But no, these are just illiterate schmucks. Do the awning people charge by the letter?

Why is Mel Kiper's hair like that?

Your favorite guest blogger Barnes suggests that it is a "way of demonstrating virility to females of his species," but concedes that taxonomists are baffled, so this may not help us very much.

He looks something like a cartoon villain, and something like a dilophosaurus. What on earth does he tell his barber? How have none of his hair and make-up people had a terrible accident that just had to be remedied by cutting it all off and starting over? I suppose, most importantly: how sure are you that he will not blind and eat you?

Why is the MLB.com news generator so stupid?

I'll open my Google Reader, and there will be some 15 to 20 stories under the MLB.com heading. "Aha!" I think to myself, "Something interesting has happened! Everyone has grown a soul and they're getting rid of the designated hitter and not expanding the post-season."

Sadly, this is not what has occurred. Instead, the Manager of the Year awards have come out. And that's pretty much it.

How does that make more than one story? Maybe two, at a stretch? One per league?

It makes an unreasonable number of stories because there is a separate story for each candidate. That's right. There's a story about how Charlie Manuel came fifth, and a story about how Bobby Cox came fourth, etc., etc.

This is stupid. I don't care if you have team-tailored news pages; the thing about these awards is that, in theory, everybody cares. List all the runners-up if you like, but keep it in one story, because they don't actually matter. As Bill Shankly pointed out, if you are first, you are first, and, if you are second, you are nothing. Stop blowing up my RSS aggregator with your mediocrity.

Why is no one selling good black flats right now?

Except for Ferragamo. Because Ferragamo always has good black flats.

What I am looking for: simple, feminine black flats made of some actual material, with heels I will not walk through in a month.

I can get ugly black flats, black flats with stupid crap on the vamp, fake black driving moccasins, black flats that are man shoes, black flats made of plastic, etc., etc. I don't want any of these.

My request is not unreasonable, and it should not cost $400.

Why is Toyota advertising with that obnoxious child?

These are the ads with the normal-looking kid whose dad has a woody station wagon, and the atrocious faux-cherub whose father owns a Highlander. Their message? You will embarrass your kid unless you drive a Highlander.

There are many problems with these commercials, but I will highlight only two. First, if that child were mine, I'd send him to boarding school immediately in the probably vain hope that it would knock him into less of a dipstick. Second, if my kids are embarrassed by the car I drive, they can walk.

Why is Buster Posey younger than I am?

He will always be younger than I am. At least, he always has been. And he has also always been better at baseball than I am. And he is not alone. Madison Bumgarner is even more younger than I am than Buster Posey is. (Madison Bumgarner is also better at baseball than I am. In fact, so is your dog.)

This problem is just going to get worse. Eventually I will be older than the Cy Young winners, and then I will be older than washed up strong safeties now playing with their third teams, and then I will be older than offensive coordinators, and then I will be older than third base coaches, and then I will be older than head coaches. Then I will be older than admirals, and then I will die.

So basically I am blaming Buster Posey for reminding me of my own mortality. Thanks, kid.

Why does Trader Joe's sell "Duchess Grey" tea?

This is the type of tea known elsewhere as "Lady Grey." It is like Earl Grey tea, but adds the apparently feminine citrus to the stupendously manly bergamot. They just want to be cute, and specific.

But an earl's wife is a countess, and any fool knows that.

Why are there never enough red Skittles?

It is a well-known fact that red Skittles are really the only ones worth eating, rather like gummy bears, and that you suffer through the other four flavors. (If you disagree, I really don't know what's wrong with your head or taste buds.)

Indeed, one generally has to come up with an elaborate plan by which one saves the red ones for last, possibly involving a battle of the purple against the yellow, which ends badly for everyone involved, because they don't even taste good. Yet it always seems, when only the red ones remain, that they number far fewer than twenty percent ought to be. Perhaps, in fact, they do. I have performed no statistical analysis on my Skittles, because even my life is not that tragic.

But appearances suffice. And it appears to me that we are getting the shaft, red-Skittle-wise.

Why do I get a million catalogues a day?

I look at maybe one percent of the catalogues I get. Because I know how to use the internet, and most of the time I try not to buy things I don't know I need.

Yet, every day, a deluge of glossy paper appears in my mailbox. It goes straight in the recycling. This is stupid.

Retailers probably wouldn't send catalogues if they didn't think it was a winning business proposition, and therefore there must be some justification. But it's really tough to imagine that this actually works out in their favor, and even if it does, it should stop.

Clearly firms are attempting to alert you to their presence, and they cannot very well do so by not sending you a catalogue. But I have a solution: every catalogue should come with instructions on how to opt out of receiving it. Sure, that's a burden on the consumer, but if he doesn't want to bear it, he can just keep tossing the catalogue every few weeks. Up to him. This should optimize everything.

Honestly, has anyone under the age of eleventy squillion bought anything from a catalogue in years?

Update: Turns out you can opt out. Well. I'm still going to be annoyed about this, because I shouldn't have to do so. Grump grump grump.

Why is the Phanatic such a wretched mascot?

I've worked through most of my emotional trauma from this baseball season, and I think I was entering the acceptance stage of grief, but then I saw a little sticker of the Phanatic on somebody's car and went straight back to anger.

I hate the Phillie Phanatic. I hate everything about it. I hate that it is a giant green anteater for no discernible reason. I hate the stupid dances it does on the field. I hate its little golf cart. I hate when it puts on costumes. I hate when it does little routines with [fake] umpires. I hate when it [fake] beats up [fake] San Francisco fans. I hate when it paces up and down on top of the dugout. I hate its snout, its belly, and its damn outsize feet.

It's obnoxious and inexplicable and I wish it would go away forever to be replaced by a less awful mascot. You know, a dung beetle or something.

The only thing I don't hate about the Phillie Phanatic is its SportsCenter commercial. This is probably because the tenor of that commercial is that the Phanatic is an inconsiderate jackass who steals Derek Jeter's razor.

Why is the French counting system so stupid?

The language that gave us such useful words as panache and élan could not come up with a word for "seventy." Or "ninety." Or even, for that matter, "eighty." These are, instead, respectively: soixante-dix, quatre-vingt-dix, and quatre-vingts.

Even leaving aside how maybe you don't know your twenty times table, this is asinine. Sure, huitante would be a fairly stupid word, but is it even close to as stupid as having to say "four twenties" when you mean "eighty?" And then to have to say "sixty-sixteen" when you mean "seventy-six?" What the heck, France? Spain and Italy have this figured out. Latin had it figured out.

You have actively made this worse, France. Well done.

Update: And apparently (see comments) other francophone countries are not this dumb! GOSH, France! Get it together!

Why are waiters sexist?

Perhaps, statistically, women are more likely to drink white wine than men are.

Waiters of the world: this does not allow you to ask, condescendingly, if one of the ladies would like to taste the white. They won't give you the stink-eye, because they have manners, but you deserve it.

We are not doomed as a sex to drinking saccharine swill. We are perfectly capable of drinking red wine, and of selecting the proper wine for our dinners. Don't you dare patronize us.

Why are high school quarterbacks in movies ridiculous?

They are all minuscule and completely implausible as athletes, much less football players. For this reason, soccer is a better teen heartthrob sport (see: Mean Girls).

Randy Floyd of Dazed and Confused is what set this off, but he's not really the worst. He is ridiculous, though. I think he weighs less than my high school quarterback did, and we lost almost every game during my four years there. Badly.

The worst one I can remember is Chad Michael Murray's character in A Cinderella Story. I watched that movie years ago, under duress and possibly not compos mentis, so throw me a bone. I remember almost nothing about it except Chad Michael Murray.

To recap: his options, when graduating from high school, are:
1. Go to Princeton with Hilary Duff and become a poet.
2. Go to Southern Cal and be the quarterback, because that's what his dad wants.

And he might be dumb, but I'm thinking option 1 is still his best bet. Sure, your dad can pressure you to play football. He can even try to pressure you into playing in college. But there are a few things outside your dad's control, and one of them is the starting quarterback position at Southern Cal. If you're tiny and don't want the job, you will probably not get it.

On the other hand: Lane Kiffin.

Why is "flak" evidently so confusing?

Flak is what you get from anti-aircraft guns, from the German for, imaginatively enough, "anti-aircraft guns." By extension, "taking flak" also means coming under metaphorical fire. From your boss, say.

Things that are not "flak:"

1. "Flake." Really?
2. "Flack." This one, though its origin is obscure, and in the 1940s, which means it's not impossible that the two are related, is not the same. "Flack" means something more like "shill."
3. "Slack." If you're "getting some slack," it means the opposite of "taking flak."

That covers all the ones I've seen. Anyone have any others?

Why is Chris Chase the worst sports blogger ever?

Look, I know, that's not very august company, and there are a lot of twits out there. But bear with me. Chris Chase is really bad.

First off, he hates baseball. Which is fine, and all (you know, if you hate America), and shouldn't really come up very often, because he writes for an NFL blog. But, since he is a jackwagon of the first water, he devotes some of his time to kicking the major leagues when they're down. It is true: the NFL is more popular than baseball. This is probably because most people are kind of dumb and have the attention span of a hyperactive adolescent goldfish. Like Chris Chase.

But what is worse is that he clearly does not understand baseball. At all. Which, again, would be fine, if he never talked about it. But, like the magnanimous horse's posterior he is, he condescends to share his thoughts on the subject. He thinks that baseball is better when the story line is Barry Bonds rather than when it is Lincecum vs Lee. I don't really have words to describe how I feel about that opinion, but if I did, a lot of them would be unprintable. And then there would be the yelling.

He also thinks that this World Series has been instantly forgettable. Because he does not have a soul and therefore does not understand about pitching. Sure, Lee got shelled in Game 1, and then there was that unfortunate 9-0 incident, but that is actually more intriguing than you'd have expected, because the Giants are not actually that good at offense. Those outcomes were unexpected. A little dispiriting, sure, but not dull. Or bad.

It's okay if you don't like baseball. It's okay if you like football better. But that does not mean that you need to dump on baseball and crow about what you see as its decline. Especially if you are an idiot and capable of astoundingly stupid leaps of logic.

Why did I forget to wax my jacket?

Places it is not strategic to go when the "waxed" on your waxed cotton jacket is on its last legs: Seattle.

Places I went this weekend: Seattle.

It sure does rain there.