The good folks at Wampum are fielding your suggestions for the 2005 Koufax awards.  (This post
lists the categories.)  They field comments from visitors, put together
a list of official nominations, and there’s a vote.  After which, giant
naked blog party!  Whoo-hoo!

Actually, not so much.  Like any awards, these mean absolutely nothing,
other than a chance for a lot of bloggers and blog readers to find other blogs they like.  So use it that way.  Poke around the comments (and later, nominees) and see what else you might enjoy.

If you feel like mentioning the rants here at puduland while you’re
there, so people who haven’t been here might drop in, that would be
neat.  But really, that’s all this is for.  Last year, this site was
officially nominated for six Koufaxes.  I think these were Most
Amusing, Best Writing, and I dunno, Biggest Pudus or whatever.  This
was nice.  Everybody likes compliments, and I’d be lying to you if I
didn’t admit to some joy at seeing that someone has already suggested
our Poll Of The Day for Best Series this year.  But what I got out of last year was discovering The General and Juan Cole and Suburban Guerilla and a bunch of others among the other nominees.  Much reading pleasure since.

So like I said — awards aside, this is really just a great chance to
find other good stuff.  There must be 40 or 50 blogs I want to add to
the blogroll when I get the spare time.  Firedoglake is terrific, and I almost never visit, just out of bad habit.  Shakespeare’s Sister.  Michael Berube.  Dozens and dozens of others.

So go look through the suggestions. 
Click around.  You’ll love it.  And when you’re done, if you’d like to
mention this site, great.  But we’ve all already won, just from Wampum putting this together.

Am I excited about heading back to Oz for a while?  Oh, slightly.

This mother and child are pademelons (pic found on this Swedish site), tiny little wallabies that look to my eyes like nothing so much as antipodean nesting pudus, no larger than your average plush toy.

At nightfall on Bruny Island (home of the giant demon bunny), they come out so thickly that you can barely drive down the street.

This is even nicer than it sounds.

Or at least, that’s what you guys say:

How the hell does Dick Cheney sleep?
In a coffin, wearing a cape
1415   49.3%
Halliburton spends $3 billion firing sheep over a nearby fence
678   23.6%
His midbrain and hindbrain take turns, just like sharks
522   18.2%
Lulled by a brightly-colored mobile constructed of innocent Iraqi civilians
253   8.8%

Today comes word of a new videotape from Osama Bin Laden.  But some analysts think it may actually be an old one, recycled.  Why?  New poll at left.

Holy crap, there were three that I missed:

This is like one of those Highlights For Children spot-the-baseball-bat-in-the-tree things.  Frank, the original emailer, only saw 6.  I thought I was hot stuff for finding seven.  But reader Derek writes in to point out that there have actually been TEN uses of the word "Holiday" or "Holidays" on the page all along.

So, the score is now updated: Holidays 10, Christmas 0.

I wonder how many others are in there your eagle eyes might find.  Maybe there are a skillion little subliminal message "Holidays" all over the thing, the way people used to claim that the word "sex" was written in teeny print all over Ritz crackers.

Paging Vance Packard.  Paging Wilson Bryan Key.  Mr Packard, Mr Key, are you in the building?

Sheeesh.

UPDATE: It’s at least eleven.

There’s another one in there.  I wasn’t even looking.  It just kind of jumped out from the screen while I was doing other things.  I’m not even marking it.  I’ll let you have fun looking.

So the score is now 11-0.  This must be Canadian football.  I used to root for the Hamilton Tiger-Cats when I was a kid, watching the Global Network broadcasts on fuzzy UHF TV from Ohio.  And the Holiday team just kicked a ball through the end zone (but not through the goalposts) for a single.  (We called this a "rouge" when I was a kid, although nobody does that anymore.)

Christmas ball on their own 35.

PS: Since several of you have asked, the eleventh "holiday" is in the phrase "Be A Holiday Beauty" in black boldface headlining the top entry in the second column.

There are also at least three animal names hidden in the page, while you’re at it.  (Seriously, as accidents in other words.)  And probably at least one or two subliminal commands to vote Republican, send money to Pat Robertson, and give your children to Reverend Moon.  But those I haven’t actually found.  Yet.

When you’re sick, it’s always there.  Unlike baseball and football and such, rugby union simply never ends.

Between Super 14, Six Nations, Tri-Nations, NPC, Currie Cup,
Celtic League, Guinness Premiership, IRB
Sevens (returning to L.A. in February!), and a
gazillion other competitions, not to mention test tours and the quadrennial World Cup, somebody is playing.  Always.

(It helps to get Setanta, which will also flood you with images of Irish people kicking things, throwing things, and whacking each other with sticks.)

Since I have to be on my back today, I have the Heineken Cup going while trying to work and rest at the same time. 
(And you wonder why I never get better…)  Ronan O’Gara, the fine Irish fly-half (pictured), is leading Munster against a
struggling Dragons side from Wales.  Later on, if I’m still awake,
I’m looking forward to seeing how Jonah Lomu does in his return for
the Cardiff Blues.  (I got to walk around the Blues’ field last year, so I enjoy their games particularly.)

I know this is total gibberish to most of you (although more visitors from rugby-speaking and cricket-fluent bits of the planet seem
to be wandering in).  Precisely my point. 
If you love sport and enjoy international competition,
cultivate rugby love.  You will never lack diversion again.