Picture of Health/Nursing Whirlyball Injuries

It's beginning to feel a little bit like groundhog day around here. I'm in Clemson today, at the local enormo-dome.














I am fully entrenched in the routine of the tour. Everyday seems exactly like the one before it. I have even been sitting on the same chair for a week. Right now I am researching ways to remove super glue from corduroy and also skin. This is an exciting deviation from my usual daily activities. If my fingers weren't temporarily glued to my pants I would claim this to be quite an adventure.


Speaking of adventures...


Let me tell you a little something about Whirlyball.
















It seems to be an exclusive club, of sorts. It's a game that involves multiple players in bumper cars with esoteric steering mechanisms, Jai alai or lacrosse sticks, whiffle balls and a couple big holes.
















It seems like a pretty absurd concept, and in fact is one of the most bizarre 'sports' that I've ever played.

















The rules seem to be few. No getting out of the car. No hitting players of opposing teams in the face with the stick, and go.

















Death Cab was challenged to a grudge match game by the staff of Chunklet Magazine. Those guys are a laugh a minute, and they also play dirty. Half of their team are employees of the Whirlyball courts. So it goes. The last game on record was David Yow and The Melvins Vs. Team Chunklet. They all have team jump suits as well. Dicks. Here's a picture of Ally and team Mogwai on the Whirlyball courts this year:




Classy...




Very Classy





So Death Cab lost by 2 goals.

















Things got pretty messy.


















The crew lost 10-0 to the band. That may have something to do with the fact that Tim and Chopper just flat-out didn't understand the purpose of the whiffle ball. We ended the night around 3AM defeated and sore, but in much better spirits then we'd been in for days.



















I saw this from afar today. It's a banner hanging from the roof of the Clemson basketball arena. It appears to be commemorating a retired athlete and, well, Hitler. From 75 feet that guy's a dead ringer I swear.


















Three more shows and then I gorge myself on Turkey in Carmel. Can't wait. I am also still completely homeless, so if anyone wants to offer me a really nice one bedroom in SF I will gladly accept.