Ladies and Gents, Miss Elaneous.

// The above image is from a bar called The Dock in Montauk, NY. Two quick points: 1) Shitfaced Monday is the best name for a single night in a bar I've ever heard, and 2) methinks the manager or owner who conceived this plan was practically encouraging the physical violence by gracing Monday with such a moniker.

// I've mentioned the UniWatch before. It's the "obsessive study of athletics aesthetics". The thing about UniWatch is its writer, Paul Lukas, expresses some of his views as fact. He'll have a link to a picture of a certain uniform and the actual link will just say "Ugh". Even when I agree with his view - like how stupid it is that a bunch of colleges just make their jersey colors into a Nike template, for example - I personally believe that it's dumb to judge without a preface of "this is my opinion", even if it's implied. Don't get me wrong; I love the site and I love Paul's attention to the nano-sized details, but sometimes he judges designs as if he's the lead guy on Project Runway. With that in mind, I was thinking that I'd like to write about the uniforms I like and the ones I hate. Actually, I have a lot of thoughts on both so I think I'll write about the bad uniforms another day. But hey, I also thought that an open discussion like "good/bad jerseys" could function like a shot in the arm for the comments section, which has seen less action than I did in the fall of 2006. Seriously. Worst slump ever. Let's hit it...

++My 3 Favorite Jerseys in All of Sports++

3) Michigan Football (Home) -- One of the worst parts about being an MSU football fan for the past 23 years - aside from the constantly underachieving teams, seemingly perpetual second-tier status, and borderline saboteur-esque coaching decisions on a weekly basis - is that the arch rival Wolverines have some dynamite niceties to go along with their sterling record on the field. The best example is their home uniform. I think a lot of people feel the same way about college football uniforms: the simpler, the better. More often than not, when a person is asked to rattle off some of their favorite college jerseys, the same names pop up: Penn State, Alabama, USC, Ohio State. Hardly anyone throws out Miami, Oregon, Northwestern. Michigan's simplicity works wonders, and at the same time the whole package is underscored by the helmet. What glory! It's just three stripes and two broad strokes of the brush, but it looks downright vicious, right? The design was founded in function: back when all helmets were leather (and the same color), Fritz Crisler brought over the winged design from his days at Princeton, where he thought it up. The quarterback was better able to identify his receivers downfield. I wonder if Crisler put it on the hats purely as a functional tool. Do you think he even realized how cool it looked back then? Regardless, this uniform is (begrudgingly) my favorite uniform in college football. My saving grace: Michigan State has adopted (under Mark Dantonio, who will go down as the George Washington to U of M's British Empire) a much cleaner, simpler look that harkens back to their 1950-70 glory days. That, combined with Rich Rodriguez's touch of death (partially covered in an earlier post), will lead my boys back to the promised land. Suck it.

2) Chicago Bulls -- The fact has slipped past me until I really thought about it and wrote it down: two of my favorite three uniforms belong to big, big rivals of two teams I root for. Why Chicago? Well, it's a combination of things. Part of the allure is their primary logo, which they've held for their entire stay in the Windy City. I'm nothing if not a sucker for continuity. Plus, the bull is a great example of how to make an animal look mean without going today's route, which is making the animal look like it's been using steroids. That is a giant pet peeve of mine. That, and giving an animal logo a set of teeth when the actual animal depicted doesn't have teeth. Effin' A. Getting back to the point, non-roid-raging-but-still-mean-looking bull is something I appreciate. Also, check out the neckline. It's a classic neckline. Some time ago, for reasons I doubt I'll ever understand, the NBA and Reebok decided the neckline on the uniforms was outdated. I don't know if the players complained about the neckline during timeouts or what, but the effect was widespread: we were all treated to new, some would say dumber necklines. Aside from very few others, the Bulls held strong and maintained the classic neckline. I like that. Lastly, I like the black & red color scheme. You know when teams decide to field an alternate uniform, but a lot of the time it's just the same uniform except black (ahem, Detroit Lions)? I don't care for that look. See, the Bulls actually have black as a primary part of their regular color scheme, so I give them a pass.

1) San Francisco Giants -- Kind of like the general "all-time favorite song" category, I've switched my #1 ranking from time to time, but the Giants uniforms have held onto the top spot for quite a while. Where to begin? For starters, the primary logo. Interlocking letters are such a plus, yet they're so subtle that they often go overlooked. If a good uniform is akin to a hot Reuben sandwich, then the use of interlocking letters is like a garlic-soaked Kosher pickle on the side. Do you absolutely need it? Nah. But does the whole experience taste that much better when it's there? You bet your sweet, juicy ass. Added bonus: "F" and "S" are the two letters that start two great cuss words. That provides a great benefit to Giants fans if they're ever bored at a game (read: every single game not pitched by Tim Lincecum). Switching gears from rambling to stuff that makes sense, let's talk about orange and black as a color scheme. Orange and black is perhaps most closely associated with Halloween. Rightly so, I might add. However, the color scheme is so underused, underrated, and generally relegated to afterthought that the few teams that do use it (Giants, Flyers, Bengals, Orioles, Oregon State) tend to stand out amongst the more generic schemes. Plus, who doesn't remember Halloween with fond memories? Add to that the gorgeous typeface they use, and you're looking at a mighty fine get-up to play some ball in. Kudos to the S.F. Giants. They may make awful trades that eventually end up making the other teams in the Tigers' division better, but damn if they don't have what I consider to be the best uniform in sports.

// Well, that's it for the week. 1 post. I'm like the Cal Ripken of blogging. And by Cal Ripken, I mean Carl Pavano. Late!

What The Eff Is Going On?!?

// If - like me - you have a list titled "Things I Doubt I'll Ever See", get out your favorite #2 and sharpen that baby up, we're gonna do a cross-off. Seriously, a fight in a WNBA game? What's next, Dane Cook making a movie that doesn't blow without mercy? I really am in shock (pun!) that this went on. Let me explain that point: I'm not saying that women can't fight. Surely The Jerry Springer Show, Rock of Love 2, and the time I visited my buddy Kevin for U-M's Mud Bowl prove otherwise. Those KKGs can scrape with the best of them. The point is: get some girls mad enough, there's gonna be some fisticuffs. What I'm saying is that I didn't expect to see this level of brawling in women's pro sports. I've always held this theory about women's athletics: in high school, the female teams that do the best aren't always the most athletic ones. At that level, I think it boils down to which girls are comfortable enough being pedal-to-the-metal aggressive. Obviously, in the later brackets of a high school tournament and the subsequent levels thereafter, this is not the case. Those simple beginnings, however, leave a palpable residue over women's sports. Which - and don't bust my chops too hard on this one - interest in women's sports just isn't as high as men's. There doesn't seem to be that level of "I hate you so much, even if you do end up beating me on the court, I'm just going to punch you in the teeth" kind of intensity, y'know? This brawl - at least for me - kind of shattered that notion.

The Winners: First of all, the WNBA. The old adage goes, "There's no such thing as bad press." Perhaps that's a bit of a reach in the generalization department, but it works in this scenario. Case in point: today - for the first time in my life - I watched SportsCenter for the purpose of hearing about the WNBA, I YouTubed a WNBA-related incident, and I scoured several different news outlets to try and understand what really happened. Never before has this happened, and aside from the fallout stories that stem from the incident, I'm dubious this will happen again. The fact remains: the WNBA has never been remotely close to being a financial success, and a big part of that problem is its underexposure. This chicanery can help change that, if only in the immediate term. The other winner from this incident, sadly, is ESPN. Those mother effers. The next Shock-Sparks game will probably garner some of the highest ratings in league history, and ESPN will reap the benefits. Although I guess I'll concede that the coming ratings success is perhaps due to ESPN. They've stuck with this league from day one, and haven't ever really wavered in their support. So I guess good for them. They're still annoying.

The Losers: I wanna start my dissection of Rick Mahorn with a story. I was at U of Detroit-Mercy, watching my man Zach play some ball. Mahorn just happened to be doing the color for FSN's broadcast of that nights game (might've been a Butler game). After the game, the boys and I are milling about the concourse, waiting for Zach to come out of the locker room so we can start our night of licentiousness and get the hell away from McNichols and Livernois. My buddy Man-Flow decides we should go onto the court and say "hey guy!" to Rick Mahorn. The same Rick Mahorn that the Pistons used to use to clothesline the one good white guy on every NBA team during the Bad Boy era (Craig Ehlo, Scott Skiles, Tom Chambers, etc.). Anyways, we head out onto the court and sidle on up to Mahorn. After a moment of looking at each other like we just peed our pants, I muster up the gumption to say, "Hey, what's up Rick? I'm Mike Honer. I'm a big fan!" After a moment or two that lasted longer than a siamese twin separation surgery, Mahorn finally delivers his response, "Ho." One of two possibilities here. Either A) Mahorn's slow response was facilitated by his slow conjuring of the new nickname he would bequeath to me, "Ho", or B) Mahorn decided - after deep thought - that he didn't like me or my smiley friend and was calling me a euphemism for a cheap prostitute. Regardless, that was my one and only encounter with Rick Mahorn, and it was about as pleasant as a hemorrhoid. Here's why Mahorn is a big loser: he disobeyed what I like to call The New Golden Rule. The old golden rule was "due unto others as you would have them do unto you". I like that a lot. It was a great rule. So great, in fact, that they called it "golden". The New Golden Rule is much simpler because it's more of a one-way street than a four-lane thoroughfare. The New Golden Rule: never, ever, ever hit girls. Judge from the video yourself, but the collective belief seems to be that Rick shoved Lisa Leslie to the ground. Add on top of that the fact that she had a baby barely a year ago, and there's no doubt: Mahorn is going to get run. Perhaps rightfully so. Unless he can show his own circumstances were extremely dire and he had no other recourse, the league is probably gonna smack him around like a very upset pimp would.

Other Minor Loser: Detroit sports. It wouldn't have felt right if a team from Seattle fought a team from Phoenix, right? Its always got to be Detroit vs. ______. I think it's neat, but know this: if an athlete ever comes into the stands I'm in, I will run faster than Speedy Gonzalez. Unless it's Carmelo Anthony. He's a chickensh*t (0:44 mark).

So that's all I got on Malice at the Palace II (Ladies Night!). Hasta luego.

Odds & Ends

// Quick Dark Knight Reset: I saw it again with my cousin on Monday night. I wanted to check and decide if my initial reaction was skewed from the sheer excitement and/or horniness I was feeling during my first viewing. I did the best I could to go in and look at the movie in a more critical light, not through fanboy goggles. I think I almost enjoyed it more the second time. I wasn't expending as much energy following the intricate plot details and I was able to focus on some of the subtleties that Heath Ledger and Aaron Eckhart brought to their villainous roles. By the way, if you haven't heard by now: Ledger is bona fide masterful as The Joker. There's just not any way to overstate it. Analogy: The way he flips back and forth from terrifying to hilarious is like he's bending out of a golf cart to pick up his ball on a fairway, but the way he incorporates The Joker's jovial/psychotic ranges and uses those broad strokes throughout the entire movie would be akin to him picking up the balls while driving that golf cart at 400 mph. Epic.

// It might be due to my own history as a sports mascot (Grosse Ile's first Red Devil, don'tcha know), but I find this to be one of the funnier virals I've seen in recent history.

I lose it every time when he flips the chair.

// Gummy Lighthouses. When candy design goes wrong. Seriously, wouldn't you think that someone at that company had at least once in their life been in a public restroom? Am I the only one using the restrooms with the dick drawings strewn about like confetti? And speaking of which, why is that funny? I'm not asking in the sense that I don't think it's funny. I think the occasional sketch of some crotch luggage is the highest of high comedy. Hilarious! But how come? Drawing a pair of cans never elicits the same uproar. Nor does the rare carton version of a lady's nether regions. Comparing those to penis drawings is like Pogs to Beanie Babies. Pogs were big and all... but Beanie Babies? No contest. What makes the cartoon penis so ubiquitous?

// I've never held it secret: I'm a Big Ten guy. I think the Big Ten is great, and everyone else I consider various degrees of not as great as the Big Ten. Misguided as this belief has been the past couple of years, I still love the Big Ten. While I abhor the SEC and have a slighter - but still formidable - degree of dislike for the ACC and the BIG XII, the Pac-10 is a conference I've never had a beef with. Maybe it's the whole Rose Bowl thing. Whatever the reason, I'm sad to report the unfortunate news that the world will probably be getting a little more sour on the Pac-10. More specifically, The University of Washington. I'll let the article speak for itself. Wait... I will say this: gross.

// My Life In a Cube. Wonderful blog. Very funny. And also, it's good if you're a moron because you barely have to read! Morons rejoice! The rest of us rejoice as well because it is pretty funny, but it's nice to see the morons win a battle every now and then.

// Here's actually another good link for people who don't like to read that much. The history of those "#1" foam fingers that your relatives get you at Christmas when they don't know anything about you other than you're a boy and there's a 50% chance you're a fan of the same teams as your Dad - to whom they've talked to about sports twice. Interesting side note: the high school mentioned in the article was the high school my buddy Danny Mac moved to after our sophomore year in high school. I wonder if he knew about this.

// Lastly, how often has this happened: you're getting a group picture, you're all set up, everybody smiles and... "WTF. Oh wait... dammit. The flash didn't... wait... oh crap am I taking a video?! I am! How do I turn this thing off-" Well, someone compiled a collection of these on YouTube. If that isn't stupid enough, consider this: SOMEONE ACTUALLY POSTED THESE EFFING THINGS. And if that's not stupid enough, consider this: I watched a couple, they're somehow a little entertaining, and I am now posting my favorite one.


No choice but to get it on.

I Had Nightmares

// Michigan's new away uniforms. I am LOVING the Rich Rodriguez era at Michigan so far. Such a terrible hire. In the year 2094, here's what I'll be telling my great-grandkids: "Back when I was your age, Michigan was one of the best programs in the country. They would regularly rack up a 10-win season like it was nobody's business! They were more repsected - and held in higher regard - than almost any other program in the nation." And then my grandkids will cry because they'll think I've gone crazy. Hear these words: the hiring of Rich Rodriguez is the first step on Wolverine Football's long, slow, inevitable journey into Vanderbilt territory. I am VERY excited about this.

// The whole nightmares thing: that's a lie. I didn't have nightmares about the Joker last night. I especially didn't have any where he sang songs and danced around me while I was tied up in a chair... naked. I did NOT have nightmares like that last night. Seriously though, go see Batman. Think about the expectations a geek like me would have for that movie. All the hype, all the hysteria; it was all over. All that was left was the movie, and none of that hype mattered anymore. It all came down to the simple question: would the movie disappoint or would it not disappoint? I had a pretty strong inclination to believe the movie would be at least good, I just hadn't considered it could be this mother effing good. The movie exceeded every single one of my expectations. I don't think I've ever had more fun sitting and watching something. Long story short: do yourself a favor, take a couple hours of "me time" today or tomorrow or Sunday and go see The Dark Knight. It can't be stressed enough how incredible this movie is.

// From the flip side of the coin (Two Face pun!): If you feel like getting angry, check out this trailer. Is there anything more infuriating than the dicks who put out these movies? Seriously, I'm asking. Is there? The answer... is yes. It's the effing people who go to the theatre and PAY MONEY TO SEE THESE PIECES OF SHIT. I want to find the jerk who directed all of these films abortions and kick him in the teeth. After you kick him in the teeth, you have to kick his kids - unfortunate, yes - so he understands that there are consequences to putting out movies that make our entire society slightly more dumb. Ass.

// Feeling sluggish? Can't get motivated? Are you in need of that "spark" that will jump-start your weekend debauchery? I was hungover Thursday morning and I heard this song in the background on some VH1 show. Jam it loud, and I dare you not to start dancing around your house like Kevin Kline in In & Out. You don't even have a choice! You MUST dance! Gotta love it.


// Have a good weekend, party people. 

Happy Batman Day!

// Aaaahhhh!!!!!! I haven't been this excited for a movie since The Phantom Menace. I bought IMAX tickets for the midnight showing - like 3 weeks ago. In a related note, I don't have a girlfriend. Quickly - I have two things I want to share. The first is this picture:

// Secondly, a little advice: the next time you're at a party and there are toddlers and/or babies around, try this one. When you go up to the baby, introduce yourself like it's a formal business meeting. Shake the baby's hand, give him/her your full name. Say, "It's a pleasure to meet you..." It's good for a laugh like one every four times. Trust me, I've been doing this for like 8 years. 

// Enjoy the weekend. I'll be seeing The Dark Knight and visiting my main man Jace in Atlanta. Holla!

Happy Belated 4th of July!

It's rare that I'm speechless, so I'll let Coug take us home.

Things That Bother Me

// Douchebag Neck - Why and how did the Bro population bring this look back into fruition? I had never given this idiotic excuse for dapper much thought until recently. While on my latest round of bar-capades, I was in the company - as more of a spectator than a tribesman - of an inordinately large number of Brosephs. Long story short: one of my buddies (non-Bro, natch) had a Bro friend who's Bro was celebrating something. And the Bro in question was celebrating what? Perhaps I'll never know but my working theories include A) he finally deciphered all the African-American colloquialisms in American Gangster, or B) after years of bad bounces, he graduated from having a "devil's threesome" to the more Bro-accepted standard 9th grade fantasy-model threesome in which the ladies outnumber the Broski. Regardless, a celebration was afoot. As I scoped the scene in what has to be mid-Michigan's most Brolicious night spot, I surmised that no less than 25 Bros were employing the neck line depicted above. The saturation was astounding; nearly 40% of all eligible parties were rickety-rockin' the look. (I had to deduct non-Bros, for their feeble minds could never fathom the idea of a neck line plunging south of the sternum.) Is it just me, or didn't an ultra low-hanging V-neck used to conjure up images of sweaty, nasty, moronically oblivious dirtbags? Like say you're in an art class, and the teacher asks to draw a caricature of an overworked, misogynistic, ethically ambiguous auto mechanic from Newark, wouldn't a too-low V-neck be part of that picture? So how did this get to be trendy? As much as I love the Bro culture, sometimes it produces a social moray that makes me shake my head in wonderment/disdain. In that way, it's eerily similar to country music. Phooey.

// Bothersome Two-fer: Sarah Jessica Parker and People Who Say "I'm sure he/she's a nice person..." - Before we get to Mrs. Matthew Broderick, I'll say this. She's probably a nice person. See that? See how I didn't say, "I'm sure she's a nice person"? That's because I'm not sure. So, from now on, when a person is about to say something disparaging about a famous person who they don't know on a personal level and they start with, "I'm sure he's a nice person, but..." STOP THEM. I know it's just semantics, but we have to make a stand. You, me, your friends, my neighbor, the too-drunk guy at open mic night; none of us know if these people we are speaking about are nice! They could be alcoholic baby hammer-throw enthusiasts for all we know! Even if you believe that most people are inherently nice, no one can say with any certainty - no matter how many US Weekly subscriptions we've renewed - that a certain celebrity is "nice". From now on, we are going to get real and switch it up to "She might be a nice person" or "He's probably a nice guy". OK, that's settled. As far as Parker is concerned, the question is very simple: who in the hell decided that this woman is a sex symbol? Is this what the new millennium is bringing us? Adolescent boys having fantasies about Sarah Jessica Parker? SHE LOOKS LIKE DEE SNIDER! This - in a nutshell - is the downside to the whole "everyone is beautiful" mantra that has been infiltrating the minds of America. I blame Christina Aguilera and that feel-goodery anthem she peddled when I was in high school. Words cant bring you down? Really? Well then let me look a little harder because I'm sure I can come up with some real soul-crushing whoppers if you'd just give me a minute. It might be hard to hear, but here is a fact of life: Not everyone is hot, and as soon as we accept that fact and start idolizing the pretty people again, the sooner I can go back to feeling sane. It's like one day I just broke out of a fog and people were considering Sarah Jessica Parker a hottie. I feel like I'm trapped in a poorly-written episode of The Twilight Zone.

// The National League - In all honesty, this has nothing to do with the fact that my favorite ball club is in the American League. If I was a Lakers fan during the early part of this decade, I would have the same feelings towards the Eastern Conference. Let's get real, NL. Allow a f*cking DH. I will never understand why they think a pitcher should be picking up the lumber. And before the laundry list of anti-DH rationale comes a-flowing, consider this: would you enjoy basketball as much if the 3-point line didn't exist? Or would it make sense if only half the teams had it on their court? In football, what if all the NFC teams left the goal posts at the front of the endzone? After another year of American League teams smacking around the Senior Circuit like a bunch of indebted prostitutes, it's become clear that the NL goofballs need to rethink their position on the DH rule. Not only are AL teams better at hitting overall (thereby getting a major advantage in the World Series after they inevitably win the All-Star Game), but the pitchers are - despite statistics - light years ahead of their NL competition. Yeah, NL pitchers traditionally rack up more Ks and have lower ERAs than the hurlers from the American League, but I'll never concede that they're better. Why? Because they get to face a freaking pitcher about twice a night. Two free outs every time out of the gate! The vast majority of these pitchers are either whiffers who can't hit when they try, or grizzled vets who really couldn't give two dooks if they kill a rally (our old friend Kenny Rogers). No more pitchers in the batter's box. I don't think Abner Doubleday will be offended.

// Click It or Ticket - The stupidest campaign since the live Burger King mascot, if only for the reason that it takes away from the valuable (loose term) time cops could be using to... y'know... stop actual crime. The focus of police should be to stop people from activities that have the potential to harm other people. I have to imagine that there's been an instance of a cop somewhere getting his dispatch call a shade too late because he was handing out a seat belt ticket to a guy who was late for work and forgot. The meth addict who was robbing the liquor store might have gotten away, but at least the 45-year-old father of three will think twice before he crosses Johnny Law again! Boo-yah! Here's the only way I can imagine "Click It or Ticket" proving its worth.

Fantasy Sequence: I'm at home and I'm relaxing on the couch after a busy day. Y'know what, honey? I haven't watched the news in a while. I think I'll check out what's happening in the greater Buffalo area today. Oh, no. There was an accident. Hey, sweetie? Could you please turn it up? The on-site reporter's voice as the volume gets louder: "...but the paramedics arrived too late. It all started when this 2006 Honda Civic slammed into the median at close to 70 miles per hour. While the car eventually stopped its uncontrollable spin, the carnage didn't end there. Witnesses say the driver, 29-year-old Bryce Palmer, wasn't wearing his seat belt. I'm not sure how, but that pretty much caused everything else. This tragic seventeen-car pileup could have easily been avoided if just one of these people were wearing their safety belts; a lesson that these families... (required overly-dramatic local news pause)... won't soon forget. Back to you in the studio."

No, I can't imagine it either. Police officers of Michigan and wherever else seat belts have become priority #1: Don't worry about it. If we happen to fly through our windshield and get an asphalt scone for lunch, it's one us, K? You're off the hook. Now go do something useful like busting up a 6-person get together where only some of the kids are 21.

// Gwyneth Paltrow & Chris Martin: I've thought about this for a while, but I never could put my finger on what bothered me until now. Gwyneth, I'm going to assume - for the sake of argument - that you had to work hard to become the successful actress you are today. Chris, I'll apply the same assumption to your music career and the success of Coldplay. Do you think you'd be where you are today if your parents had named you Strawberry Paltrow? Or Kiwi Martin? Your talents would still be there, but the sheer ridiculousness of those names could drastically alter the path you've taken with your normal names. There could have been teasing at school. That one record executive or casting director who gave you your big break could have had second thoughts because you were named after a nutritious fruit. Perhaps he/she could have reasoned your parents were kinda nuts and you might be as well. Then where would you be? Gwyneth: after refusing to get breast augmentation for moral reasons, you were flushed out of the bottom of the porn industry. Chris: I'm not sure what else you could do, but I am sure that it wouldn't afford you the opportunity to dance around like a drunken Alzheimer's patient in an iPod commercial. My point is: if you'd been given what I'll call "abnormal" names, those names could have been indirectly responsible for denying you the good fortune you've earned. Thankfully for you, normal names were given. So why did you name your daughter Apple? First of all, I'm close to 100% sure that Apple is not a name. Secondly, even if by some miracle Apple is a name, I'm equally inclined to think that it's a guy's name. Regardless, the naming of a kid isn't some whimsical adventure for the parents. It's not like picking out the new shade of paint to be used in the foyer. The kid has to live with the name long after you've checked out. What I fear is that the worst part will happen long after the schoolyard teasing and the self-doubt cycles. When young Apple blossoms (PUN!) into a young woman and bears fruit (PUN AGAIN!) of her own, what will happen to the unreleased rage she's built up from living with her own ridiculous excuse for a name? You guessed it: she's going to name your grandson something even more insane. The cycle will continue for generations and generations until we finally hit rock bottom in 2561: "Check out the 2561 MTV Movie Awards! With appearances by: Piece of F*cking Sh*t Stupid Face-Lookin' Milky Way Rotten Vulture Carcass Paltrow-Martin..." So please, name the next one Kelly or something.

// That's all I got. Goodnight, Apollo, God of the Sun.