On the eve of my last final of “the college years” (which, unlike a laundry list of teen-angst hour-long dramas on the WB [R.I.P] did not disappoint,) I have this theory kicking around my head. Knowing myself, it’s better for me just to get it out, so that I’m not doodling and daydreaming when I should be drawing Phillips curves and aggregate supply and demand charts. Here goes: Hockey is Quidditch for humans*.

As I’m sure some of you know, the Penguins finally vanquished the Capitals Wednesday night in a Game 7 rout that hopefully (but I know it won’t) puts to rest the “Crosby or Ovechkin” debate. Seriously, that’s like asking which is better: the baby Jesus or Grendel’s Mother (bonus points: Beowulf reference!). But I digress.

My point is this: watching hockey is like poetry in motion. A few weeks ago, I attended a cookie-eating contest, during which the announcer describe the act of gorging yourself with cookies as “physical poetry.” Let me be clear: I do not mean anything closely (or distantly) related to that. My first postulate, and yes I’m using this word for its auditory cache, is that skating is as close we’ll get to human flight. To see these guys zipping up and down the ice at break-neck speed is incredible. The speed doesn’t translate well through the TV until they zoom in closer to the ice. This connects to the larger theory (Hockey = Human Quidditch… stay with me!) especially when the offense is moving into the opponent’s zone, with all three traveling at the same speed and the defenders lie in waiting. Intense!

Postulate two: You had to see this one coming—hockey sticks = brooms. C’mon. Glue a little straw on the ends of those things and we’ve got Canada’s second-favorite pastime: Curling. Someone’s bound to hop on their stick and take flight one of these days. It’s science.

Postulate three: At this point, I’m playing a little fast and loose with the postulates. How’s this: hockey defensemen are the human form of the Quidditch “bludger.” In both cases, people are getting their brains bashed in.

Postulate four: This one brings us full circle. Harry Potter is to Sidney Crosby as Draco Malfoy is to Alex Ovechkin. Hooray for analogies! GRE, here I come! But seriously, think about it. You know it’s true.

The combination of these four postulates provides for a cogent theory that hockey is our version of Quidditch. Good luck refuting this air-tight analysis.

Editor’s note: People who, by nature, hate this post: Scott, Eliot. Others?

*I refuse to use the word Muggle in reference to myself. I’m dork enough, thanks.

Hello and welcome to the real world, where it’s the last week of college for me. Please take a moment and evaluate what this moment in my life means to you. Thank you. The world is now sufficiently revolving around me, and I am able to continue. Here we go.

If anyone’s heard from April, let me know. The month, not the high-fastening pants-wearer and journalist who is inexplicably and constantly clad in yellow. Somehow it’s May, the greatest of the months. This one is going to be particularly blockbuster-esque, as it involves the end of school (and therefore learning) in my life, my MJ birthday, and several high-profile visits for graduation and afterward.

That’s right, the fam is coming, en mass, to Austin, Texas. The first wave arrives on Wednesday the 20th and the next on Thursday the 21st. Graduation dinner is set for Friday night at Z’Tejas, some cl@$$y joint up in the Arboretum area (Latin for trees… you’re welcome). This will be my aunt and uncle’s first trip to Texas, so it will be fun to show off the city to another set of Pennsylvanians. To the fam: expect much Tex-Mex and BBQ, to go along with the requisite hooplah and ballyhoo of family gatherings. We’ll miss the Jens, Eli, Micah, Piper and Dave, but I maaaaaay be stickin’ around for a little while longer, so there’s still time.

If you’ve gotten this far, you’ve realized this post has no point, so I’m going to toss in a few random thoughts. Take’em or leave’em. The Penguins… gah! Down two to the Caps. Both close games, too. Also, should I get a one-day pass for ACL? Saturday is looking pretty good, but $85 is a lot for just a day. Finally, The Reliques were on the cover of DT Weekend, the insert in Thursday’s Daily Texan. This is a pretty huge deal.

Alright, that’s it. Send your complaints to