S. Evan Townsend's Blog, page 103

The Speculative Fiction Cantina with Fran Orenstein and Frances Pauli

Today on the Speculative Fiction Cantina we welcome Fran Orenstein and Frances Pauli.
Fran Orenstein


Fran OrensteinFran Orenstein, author of ten fiction books for kids, teens and adults, as well as numerous academic and professional articles and papers. The longer you live, the longer your bio, so please take the time to enjoy my story. Oh, and please visit My World at www.franorenstein.com

Fran Orenstein, Ed.D., award-winning author and poet, wrote her first poem at age eight and submitted a short story to a magazine at age twelve. Fran has been a teacher, written professionally as a magazine editor/writer, counseled people with disabilities, and also wrote political speeches, newsletters, legislation, and promotional material while working for New Jersey State Government for twenty-two years. She has written academically and wrote professional papers on gender equity and violence prevention, which she presented at national and international conferences. Fran managed programs for women in gender equity, early education, and disabilities, as well as serving as Special Projects and Disabilities Officer for the AmeriCorps Commission in New Jersey.


She has a BA in Early Childhood Education, a MEd in Counseling Psychology, and an Ed.D. in Child and Youth Studies.

Fran's book is:

The Book of Mysteries 

Fran's Links:

Website


Frances Pauli

Frances PauliFrances Pauli writes speculative fiction, usually with touches of humor or romance, which means, of course, that she has trouble choosing sides.
She's always been a fan of things outside the box, odd, weird or unusual, and that trend follows through to her tales which feature aliens, fairies, and even, on occasion, an assortment of humans.

More information on her work and upcoming releases can be found on her website: http://francespauli.com

Frances' books include:

Shrouded

Kundalis

Kingdoms Gone

Frances' Links:

Website
Facebook
Twitter
Blog
Pintrest
Google+

From the program today:

Partial Solar Eclipse.
Listen to this show live or in archive .

Washington Huskies are 5-1

The University of Washington Husky Football team went on the road yesterday for their first conference away game (and second conference game). The Huskies have enjoyed being at home since their season opener in Hawaii. In yesterday's game, they faced California in Berkeley, and surprised a lot of people by winning against what was described as a "high-scoring" Cal Bear offense.

The Husky defense held Cal to 7 points and recovered two fumbles to add 14 to Washington's score. The defense is looking very good after the loss to Stanford two weeks ago (the Huskies had their only bye of the season last week), a game pretty much lost by ineffective offense.

But yesterday, the Husky offense came to the game, making scoring drives that were impressive. Once they started behind their own 5-yard line and drove all they way down the field to make a touchdown. While the defense was responsible for 14 points. the offense added 17 points for a final score of 31-7.

This despite officiating that seemed to favor the Bears. Ball placement on critical downs was bad for the Huskies, favorable for the Bears. The officials called a Washington player for a personal foul with targeting that pulled back a long run. But looking at the replay, there didn't appear to be any foul. Meanwhile, the officials ignored a blatant personal foul by a California player.

Next week the Dawgs face Oregon (this morning ranked #12). Oregon's national champion hopes are pretty much dead after their upset loss to Arizona last weekend. This shows they can be beat but they are probably not ready to lose again. The game is in Eugene, always a tough venue for visitors.

The Huskies are 5-1 overall (1-1 conference) so one more victory from being bowl eligible. If they can't pull off one more win in seven games left, they're in trouble.  However they do have a rough schedule going forward starting with the Ducks, then #20 Arizona, unranked Colorado, #18 UCLA, and #10 Arizona. But as good as the Huskies looked yesterday, they have a chance to pull some upsets.

Speculative Fiction Cantina with Barb Jones and Ken Hart

Today on the Speculative Fiction Cantina we welcome Barb Jones and Ken Hart.
Barb Jones

Barb JonesHaving been born and raised in Hawaii, I loved telling stories ever since I was a child about vampires, werewolves, angels, demons, and witches.  I was a little girl who loved scary stories, much to my mother's dismay.  The scarier - the better.  Hawaii was a perfect place for stories until I moved to Seattle.  I decided to turn a love for the supernatural into writing stories to see if others would love them as much as I do.  Currently, I live in Florida but since I'm a Seattle girl at heart, my stories take place in the Northwest.  I continue to write supernatural stories of vampires, werewolves, witches, and more while enjoying the beaches and sunshine.

Barb's books are:

Queen's Destiny: Blood Prophecy One

The Adventures of Little Arthur and Merlin the Magnificent: The Baby Dragon

Little Arthur and Merlin the Magnificent: Meet the Knights

Barb's Links:

Website
Facebook
Twitter


Ken Hart


Ken HartHaving been born on December 24 created an important life lesson; choose wisely, the best gifts are not always large, or heavy.  Armed with a high school diploma, I followed a family tradition of military service, and despite Army tours in Vietnam and Iraq, I continued to pursue my favorite activity of reading science fiction.  Now being retired, I have more time to pursue writing which I hope never to tire of.
Ken's Books are: 
The Eyes Behold Tomorrow

Behind the Gem Ken's Links:
Website Facebook

From the program today:
The Physics of the Death Star.
Listen to this program live or in archive here.

Flash Fiction Friday: The Formula

Today's Flash Fiction Friday selection is entitled The Formula.

Henderson walked into the diner. He scowled as he glanced around the place. He decided that if you looked up "greasy spoon" in the dictionary, this place wouldn't be clean enough to be the picture.

The changeable-letters sign read "Seat Your elf" (the missing "s" at the bottom of the sign). Henderson wondered what you were supposed to do if you didn't have an elf handy. Or perhaps it was like a "curb your dog" sign, the proprietors wanted to ensure all elves were seated.

He smirked and walked to a booth, sitting down on the vinyl that was shiny from too many asses sliding across it.  The table had a metal rim, grooved and riveted in place.  The top was red Formica that maybe looked cheap once. Now it just looked scratched and abused.

"What'll ya have?" the middle-aged waitress asked.

"I haven't had a chance to look at a menu," Henderson replied.

The waitress pointed to a rack against the window. "There's the menu, I'll be right back."

Henderson thought she was in an awful hurry. The place wasn't crowded. In fact, except for one man sitting at the counter and Henderson, it was empty. That was until she walked in.

She was tall, thin, with long dark hair. In this place she appeared like a rose among dandelions.  Old dandelions that had gone to seed, Henderson amended his thought.  She spotted him and walked over, giving him a chance to admire he long legs and hear her heels clack on the tile.

She slid into the booth.

"Nice place," she breathed.

Henderson frowned. "You picked it."

She smiled sweetly and her blue eyes flashed. "No, I didn't. But no matter."

"What would you like, ma'am?" the waitress asked. Henderson hadn't even seen her walk over.

"Coffee, black," the woman asked. "And a piece of pie."

"We don't have pie," the waitress replied. "Would you like a donut."

The woman's serene smile never wavered. "Sure, a stale donut to match my mood."

The waitress scowled, and Henderson thought for a moment she was about o protest that her donuts weren't stale, until she realized that, yes, they were.

When the rotund figure walked away the woman asked. "Do you have it?"

"Of course," Henderson replied. He reached inside his suit and pulled out a small vial of blue liquid. It shown with its own nacreous light.

"I need your account number," she said.

He handed over a slip of paper.  She extracted a smart phone from her clothes, and typed for a while, occasionally glancing at the paper.

"Is that secure?" Henderson asked, his voice tinged with  anxiety.

The look she gave him was one you might give someone who asked if the sky was blue.

"Done," she said. "You're a very rich man, Mr. Henderson."

He smiled broadly.

She held out her hand and he passed over the vial.

"And what are you going to do with it?" he asked.

"That wasn't part of the deal," she whispered.

"Neither was this," he said, and pulled out a second vial, popped the top, and drank it.

The woman stood up quickly, and started back off.  Henderson slid out of booth and walked slowly after her, the menacing look in his eyes caused even the waitress to take notice.

"I did a little research," Henderson said.  "You're not the CIA. You're working for the Chinese. Now why do the Chinese want my formula?"

The woman was still backing off.  Henderson wasn't surprised when she pulled out a gun.  He was a bit surprised by how fast he moved, and that in a fraction of a second the gun was in his hand and the woman on the floor, looking up at him.

"I'm CIA," she cried. "And you're in big trouble."

He smirked, pointing the gun at her.  "Then why does the CIA need a formula to make men into psychopathic killers? And why does a company owned by the Chinese government pay your expenses?"

Her face fell, letting him know he was right. His skills as an investigator hadn't changed even if he'd retired from the FBI to pursue his dream of inventing a serum that would turn men docile. But it had the opposite effect, and made them killers.  He never believed the CIA wanted it as this woman claimed, so he did some digging.

"What are you going to do?" the woman whimpered.

"Enjoy my money," he said.  "Now give me the vial."

She handed it over with trembling hands.  "Are you going to kill me?"

Henderson smiled.  "No.  I forgot to tell you one thing. The effect only lasts about three minutes. Just long enough to scare you into giving me back my vial of shampoo."

"Shampoo?"

"Yeah," Henderson said with a chuckle. "Just in case you got away, I didn't give you the real formula."

Two men walked in in business suits.  Henderson smiled at them. "Take her away, gentlemen."

"Who are you," the woman asked.

"FBI," one of them said, helping her off the floor.  The other handcuffed her. Henderson turned over the gun to them.

Henderson went back to his booth as they led the woman out. If she talked, and she would, that would help break up a Chinese spy ring in the U.S. He could feel the lingering effects of his formula tingling in his veins.

The waitress was staring at Henderson with her mouth agape.

"What's it take to get some service in this dump?" Henderson snarled.  Must be the last of the formula making him so rude, he thought. But with a hundred million dollars, he could afford to be rude.

Cutting Room Floor II

When I edit, I usually make my work in progress (WIP) longer. I'm a very concise writer and am, in fact, too concise too often in my first drafts. (I used to hate school assignments that had length requirements such as 500 words or 10 double-space pages. I could usually say everything that was needed to say in less than the required length.) So after the first draft when I'm doing my edits it's nearly always "Oh, that needs more explanation" or "That needs more detail." I rarely cut.

But sometimes you have to cut. Part of being a writer is knowing what needs to come out.

I am finishing up edits on a WIP (that doesn't have a good title, yet), and I decided I needed to cut out the prologue. Now I loved this prologue. I worked very hard to make the characters sound as if they were in the 19th Century. I loved that it included a character from a later Adept Series novel, Gods of Strife . I loved the historical tie-in. But I had to be brutal with my writing (as all good writers are) and it had to go, all 1,098 words of it.

I've done this before, for the same WIP. That was because I went a different direction with my villain. Sort of the same thing happened again. I went another direction and the villain in the prologue ended up being more of a red herring.

So what did I cut? Well, here it is:

Prologue
Richmond, Virginia, Confederate States of AmericaApril 18, 1865
"Lincoln is dead," the woman said, fixing her sky-blue eyes on Colonel Rogers. She was small of build and her blonde hair hid mostly under her hat. Despite the ruination wreaked upon the states of the Confederacy by the Union armies, she was dressed in impeccable clothes that looked as if they were the height of fashion this season in Paris or London. She wouldn't have looked out of place attending Sunday services at Monumental Church, Rogers thought.

"Some good news for a change," Rogers growled. He still wore his gray uniform with three stars at the collar.  "Unfortunately, Lee surrendered nine days ago. The Confederacy is over." He looked at the woman he knew only as Ariel. "What is the disposition of Secretary Seward and Vice-President Johnson?"

"Seward was only injured," Ariel replied in a plain, matter-of-fact tone. "Johnson is unharmed. Apparently Atzerodt lost his nerve and did not even make an attempt."

"Damn," Rogers spat. He looked at the woman. "Forgive me my language, please."

Ariel dismissed it with a smile. "Believe me, Colonel, I have heard far worse."

Rogers noticed her delicate features. She was an exquisite woman with eyes that seemed to show an inner sadness.

"Have any been captured?" Rogers asked.

"Not to my knowledge," the woman replied. "Not yet, at least."

Rogers breathed a sigh of relief. That gave him time to escape. Booth was ostensibly the leader of the conspiracy but he knew about Rogers' involvement and planning. Booth may have told the others. Rogers was a soldier in the Confederate Army, of course, but he doubted that would accord him any protection if it were found he was involved in the assassination of Lincoln.

"There is the matter of my compensation," the woman was saying as he thought.

"You were to back up Booth if he failed; he did not."

"Still, I am out time, trouble, money, and am fortunate the Union Army is not hunting me, too. We had an arrangement, Colonel, and I expect you to keep your part of the bargain."

Rogers glared at the woman. He was used to members of the fairer sex keeping their place. This supposed female assassin came highly recommended, but the plot had failed and even though it was no fault of hers, Rogers was in no mood for her insolence.

"It is over," Rogers said. "It is all over. And you want your thirty pieces of silver despite it."

Her blue eyes blazed as she looked at him. "I do not care about your Confederacy or your cause. I am paid to do a job. You will recompense me, Colonel, the $500 in gold I was promised. Promised by you, I might add."

"Or what shall you do, ma'am?" Rogers made his voice drip with disregard.

The woman smiled malevolently.

Rogers felt his body go stiff. He couldn't move, could barely breathe, and only his eyes moved under his own command.

"You will pay me what is due, Colonel," the woman hissed.

Rogers could not talk, could not react.

"Blink twice if you agree," Ariel said with menace clinging to her words.

Rogers blinked twice. Suddenly, his body came back under his control.

"Then it's true," he whispered.

"Yes," Ariel growled. "I am what some mistakenly call a 'witch,' but we prefer the term 'adept one.'"

Rogers remembered hearing that term before and that it was not wise to anger these "adept ones." He opened a drawer in the desk, pulled out a small canvas bag, and counted out 25 liberty head double eagle gold coins with a face value of $20 each. They were Union money, not the worthless Confederate paper dollars.

The woman scooped them up and deposited them in her purse.

"Thank you, Colonel Rogers." She said it in a sweet tone, as if he'd brought her flowers.

Rogers growled. That was part of the money he'd saved to escape to the West after the war was lost.

"Tell me," he asked, "if you have . . . powers, why did you not come to the aid of the Confederacy?"

She emitted a bright musical laugh with a lining of bitterness. "I do not believe in your cause or any cause, Colonel. I am a mercenary. Men have treated me with disregard and contempt my entire life, and you have no idea how long that has been. Now, I do what I wish to do, and I earn money with my abilities."

Rogers wondered what she meant by how long she had lived. She appeared merely twenty-five or so years in age, unless you looked into her azure eyes which seemed to show the pain of a long life. Perhaps these "adept ones" lived longer than normal men and women. He did not know. "But if you wished, you could—"

"But I do not wish," she said simply. "I must go now, Colonel. I thank you for your business."

She turned and walked out of his house, one of the few left standing in the capital of the Confederacy.

Rogers sat back. An idea formed. If there were more "adept ones," and if they supported the cause of the Confederacy, it may be possible to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. It would take time, and money. But if he could do it the Confederate States of America would rise again. He didn't even know where to start, and perhaps his best lead had just walked out the door.

But if there were these adept ones in the Confederacy, there must be rumors of them. If he could find one, if they would help him, if they were powerful enough . . .

Rogers scowled. That was a great deal of "ifs." But if there was any hope to save the Confederacy, he'd take it. The rumors were that New Orleans was a favored spot for "adept ones." But that was only whispered gossip about something no one really knew existed.

Rogers counted his remaining gold. It might be enough. Whatever he did, he needed to move south before the Union Army captured Booth, and the man told them about Rogers. Travel would be difficult as the Yankees' campaign of destruction left few passable roads and fewer trains. Plus there would be the occupying armies ready to question anyone they deemed suspicious. He growled, unconsciously touching the Colt Navy revolver in the holster at his right hip. It wasn't a lot of protection, but it would have to do to get him to New Orleans.

Flash Fiction Friday: "The Boss from Hell" or "Killer Employee Evaluation"

"Why do we have to have these meetings at night?" Owens asked as the elevator ascended to the executive level.

"The boss," Larson replied. "He's allergic to the sun. Be grateful it's getting winter. We can have these meetings at five in the afternoon rather than nine at night."
"So I'm expected to work my standard twelve-hour day, then if the boss wants to see us, we have to stay later?" Owens sounded unhappy. He was unhappy.
"That's why they pay us the big bucks," Larson said with a smile.
"And what kind of screwy meeting is this?" Owens asked. "No agenda, no preparation, just a cryptic email: 'Come to my office at 8:00 P.M.'"
"Yeah," Larson said, "The boss sometimes likes to get you unprepared, see how well you think on your feet."
Owens shook his head.  "I don't like it. Why does the board put up with this stuff?"
"Because he's doubled the stock price in six months," Larson said. "He's turned this company around. Hell, pretty soon we'll be knocking on Apple's door."
Owens scoffed. "I doubt that."
"You just watch," Larson said.
The elevator stopped and the doors slide aside silently. Owens took in a breath. The executive level was much nicer than the lower floors, with thicker carpet, dark wood paneling, and what looked to be original art work in decorative frames. Sure beet the motivational posters on painted-white drywall where he worked.
"This way," Larson said, indicating they should to left. There were double glass doors and a large antechamber with chairs and couches. It was empty this time of night. Larson led Owens through the massive wooden door into the CEO's office. Again, Owens was impressed. The room looked larger than his apartment.
"Come in," the boss said from behind an imposing oak desk.
The two men approached.
"You asked to see Daniel Owens, sir?" Larson said.
"Yes, yes.  Thank you, Larson, you may go now."
Owens thought Larson looked too relieved. He wondered what this was all about.
When Larson had left and the door was closed, the boss stood.  He was very tall but thin.  He smiled. "Mr. Owens, I've been looking at your last employee evaluation."
"Yes?" Owens asked. Surely they CEO wasn't going to fire him. That would be handled by someone a bit more junior.
"It seems you are not much of an asset to this corporation," the CEO continued.
Jeez, Owens thought, maybe he was going to get fired.
"Well, sir," Owens started, "I am working hard and I have goals that I am supposed to meet before my next evaluation.
"Yes, yes," the CEO said, holding up a hand to silence him.  "But we both know you're not going to make it.  You're not going to achieve your goals.  You're a poor executive and one thing this corporation can not tolerate is mediocrity at any level."
Owens realized he was about to be fired. But why was the CEO doing it.  As he thought this, the boss walked around his desk and put his hand on Owens' shoulder.
"Now, this won't hurt . . . much," the CEO said.
Owens frowned, "What won't-"
The CEO sank his fangs into Owens' neck, and sucked the man's blood.
Drain, the corpse collapsed to the carpet.
Larson walked back in.
"I assume you want the body disposed of in the usual manner?" he asked.
"Yes," the CEO said, licking his lips and sitting behind his desk. There were chemicals that could render a body a black sludge which could easily be poured down the drain.
"Yes, sir," Larson said.  Yes, Larson did get paid the big bucks. The board hired him to protect the CEO. And see to his needs.

It Could Have Been Worse . . . It Could Have Been Better

Last Saturday's college football game between the University of Washington Huskies and the Stanford Cardinal (it's a color) could have been worse. Stanford, ranked #16 at the time, came into the game with the best defense in the FBS. The Huskies had a defense that had not distinguished itself in the first four games of the season (despite the Huskies managing to win all four). I was worried that Stanford would have no trouble scoring and the Huskies would not be able to move the ball against the Cardinal defense.

But it actually turned out better than expected. The Husky defense held Stanford to 20 points. Of four trips to the red zone, the Huskies held Stanford to two field goals, one touch down, and force a fumble. Without the Husky defense stepping up, Stanford could have easily scored a lot more points.

And, yes, the Huskies managed to score 13 points against Stanford's supposed brick-wall defense. But it could have been more. Coach Chris Petersen repeatedly took gambles including trick plays, faked punts, and one time had great field position after a kickoff and (and I'm not quite sure how this worked) asked for another kickoff in the hopes of getting great a run-back. We didn't.

As I tweeted during the game, gambling only works if it pays off. And it didn't.

So while it could have been worse, it could have been much better. But the positives are that the defense showed up for this game, and we did manage to move the ball against Stanford. Now if Coach Petersen would be a bit more cautious, we might win more games.

Next week we have a bye. The week after (October 11th) we play Cal in Berkeley. Then we hit the meat grinder of #2 Oregon in Eugene and Arizona State at home. Arizona State was looking good this year (they were ranked until they lost to #8 UCLA 64-27). Later we play UCLA at home.

We're two wins from being bowl eligible. We should manage to squeak out two wins in the eight games left (we'd better beat WSU!). But we play a lot of very good teams in the interim. It's going to be tough.

Meet the Character Blog Hop

I was nominated by Frances Pauli to do the "Meet the Character" blog hop. You should "hop" on over to her webpage and check out her great books. Click "Blog" to meet her character.

Today we're going to meet Peter Branton from Gods of Strife , the fourth novel in the Adept Series.
1.What is the name of your character?
Peter Branton. Well, that's his alias. He never reveals his real name because to do so would give others power over him.
2. Is he/she fictional or a historic person?
He's fictional, 100% a creation of my mind.
3. When and where is the story set?
The story is set in 1976. A lot of the action takes place in San Francisco but it also goes to New Orleans, Tehran, Quito, and Johannesburg, South Africa.
4. What should we know about him/her?
Peter isn't as confident as he'd like you to believe. He has strong powers but he hesitates to use them unless needed. His horrific childhood has left him scarred and unsure of his place in the universe.
5. What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life?
Someone is trying to kill him and his boss. That someone is a very beautiful blonde woman. In pursuit of her, he finds it's part of a larger plot to foster a nuclear war, a war he must stop.
6. What is the personal goal of the character?
Other than stopping nuclear war, and staying alive, he wants desperately to be loved.
7. Is there a working title for this novel, and can we read more about it?
As mentioned above: Gods of Strife .
8. When can we expect the book to be published or when was it published?
It was published May 15, 2014
Hope you enjoyed this little journey into my character's mind.
And now I nominate Joann H. Buchanan, Alexandrea Weis, and Trish McCallan.

Yes, Beta Readers are Important

So, you've written the great American novel. You've pounded out that first draft, you edited (and edited and edited). You might even have paid for a professional edit or proofread. So, now you think it's ready to send to a publisher (or to indie publish).

Now hold on a minute there, pardner. You're not quite ready yet. You need "beta readers."

Like "beta testing" software (having users try it out before releasing it to see if there's major problems with it), beta readers read your novel before you publish it.  While they can be an extra set of eyes for typos for proofreading, their primary function is to make the writing better.

Beta readers can point out inconsistencies in plot or characterization. "I really don't think a nun would become a streetwalker to raise money for Mother Superior's operation."

Beta readers will show you were you've used clumsy prose or, as often in my case, passive voice. Beta readers will make your work better.

Beta readers will have different knowledge and experience than you. They may know that a ".45 automatic" isn't necessarily a M1911, for example.

And the best part is, you get to decide what advice to take and what to keep.

It's always good to have more eyes on your novel before publication. They will see things you won't because you're too close to it. Maybe you'll have to beef up a plot point that they didn't understand. Or maybe they'll think you're being redundant. Or maybe they'll smack you for poor apostrophe usage. You never know and you should get as many beta readers as you can.

How do you find beta readers. Your writers' group is a great source. Or social media such as Facebook and Twitter (I found one beta reader on Twitter just by tweeting that I needed beta readers).

Before you publish or submit that masterwork of writing, have someone else look at it. You'll be amazed how useful beta readers are.

Huskies are 4-0!

Now this is normally the time I would be giving a detailed, incisive discussion on yesterday's University of Washington Husky football game.

Only problem is: I didn't see it. I as at a family gathering. So I DVR'd it to watch today with the plan to studiously avoid hearing anything about the game. But then my Husky-hating cousin had to point out that Georgia State, a three-year-old football program whose single victory this year was against Abilene Christian, was leading 7-0 in the first quarter, and then leading 14-0 at halftime.

(My cousin doesn't like the Huskies and really doesn't like the Huskies since they picked up Chris Petersen as head coach. Petersen coached Boise State and, as an University of Idaho alum and fan, he hates Boise State.)

I was worried the Huskies had gone in over-confident and were blowing it as they nearly did against Hawaii. But I thought Husky head coach Chris Petersen would light a fire under the Huskies at half time and they would come out and win the game.  And that's apparently what happened because Georgia State never scored in the second half while the Huskies ran up 45 points to win 14-45. This has given UW a 4-0 start and only two games away from being bowl eligible. A pretty good begining for the new head coach.

Next week we play Stanford at home. The Cardinal (yes, the team's mascot is a color) was, last week, #16 (this week's poll is not out, yet) and has a 2-1 record, their only loss being to USC. They are also coming off a bye week, not playing this week (well, apparently the Huskies only played half a game this week). We'll have home-field advantage but Stanford is tough. The Huskies will have to be damn near perfect to win this game. The Huskies have a history (at least in the century) of winning games where they are considered the underdog (e.g., the win over USC in 2009). So maybe we can pull the upset again.


On a side note, as much as my cousin hates Boise State, I hate Washington State (the Cougars). But I have to commend the Cougs, for last night in Pullman they played the #2 team in the nation, the Oregon Ducks, and they lost. But it wasn't the blow-out everyone expected. The final score 38-31 Oregon. Be interesting to see if this affects their #2 ranking in the polls. Oregon is still undefeated but Wazzu came within 7 points of a tie game. And I do hate Oregon, too, so I was kind of hoping they could both lose.

When the polls come out I'll update!

UPDATE: And apparently Oregon's performance against the Cougars didn't hurt them: they are still #2 in the AP FBS poll. Stanford is still #16.

UPDATE #2: UW started at #25 in the preseason poll. After their difficult win over Hawaii, they dropped out of the poll never to be seen again (Hawaii is, so far, 1-3 this season, was 1-11 last season). A win over Stanford might get us ranked again. A decent showing might even do the trick. We'll have to see what happens next week. Only problem is, I have a Toastmaster speech contest I'm competing in that morning and while I'm DVR'ing the game, will probably not be able to watch all of it (if any) live.