At nighttime, I fight crime.

So, since I've been laid up with a cold, I have taken on the job of disappointing Josh with low blog productivity. I do this gratis, which I'm sure he appreciates.

To be fair, I was productive in other ways. Monday evening I made a flourless chocolate cake for our Passover seder, since we needed oven time yesterday for the brisket (Josh is bringing wine, which I will then change into the blood of Christ, as the seder's token sorta-Catholic). This was tricky, as I occasionally had to abandon my egg-separating and hazelnut-skinning so that I could run into another room to cough/honk in a manner that frightened the cats.

I spent yesterday afternoon watching the baseball. And by "watching the baseball," I mean "asleep listening to the dulcet tones of Jerry Remy whilst festooned with purring cats."

Unrelated to my malaise or Passover, I'd like to add this Slate piece about lacrosse players (and the cult of "lax"... ugh, that abbreviation makes me want to barf. Or fly to L.A. But mostly barf.) to the discussion about the Duke scandal, in which I did not orginially participate due to sleeping, coughing, and being buried in cats.

The whole thing is straight out of CSI or SVU or CI some other acronymed television program (less the murder bit). The stonewalling athletes, the elite rich college kids vs. the so-called poor townie. It's creepy. And I'm curious: If nothing happened, as the players' lawyers say now that there's no DNA evidence, why did they all take this stupid vow of silence? Wouldn't you want to point out how it's all a big mistake, and tell the authorities what happened if she's lying? Furthermore, if nothing happened, why would they let this go on and consequently bitch up their whole season?

Seems likely that it'll devolve into a good old-fashioned "she says, they say" type scenario. Sigh. Where is Gil Grissom when you need him?