Friday, January 7

"It's Alive! ALIIIIVVVEEE!!!"

So obviously I wish for this little creation of mine to spring into the largest, highest-read corner of the internet, a Frankenstein's Monster of such massive readership and influence that it makes Glenn Reynolds weep and Dan Rather rage.

Hmm . . . I've got a lot of work to do.

But I believe I've found a way. A shortcut. A ticket to Blogospheric Easy Street. Get the Kleenex now, Glenn, I've got you in my sights!

I've got . . . a nickname.

That's right. A nickname. Hey, all the big stars in the entertainment and sports worlds have them. Jennifer Lopez is "J-Lo." Alex Rodriguez is "A-Rod." Kenyon Martin is "K-Mart." Notice the pattern?

"M-Chron" sounds kinda silly, so here comes my slight modification:


Shocked and awed yet? Knew you would be. Fear the eight letters that will leave the punditocracy trembling in my wake. What other blogs have nicknames? Virtually none, except multiworded ones like RCP and LGF, but those aren't nicknames so much as abbreviations . . .

None of you are buying a bit of this at all, are you?

Didn't think so. Guess I'm gonna have to do all that work now. I'd like work if it weren't so much . . . work.

I'm keeping "Marchron," though. Don't like it? Too bad.

At any rate, this is what I wish to accomplish for this blog:

--My own domain.
One of the reasons I settled on "Marchand Chronicles" for the title is, well, it has my name in it. I'm a bit of an egoist like that. But I didn't want to name it "Mike Marchand" because that's a dead-end street; someone already owns an actor/model from LA. (You know, just for one day, I wish some magical force could give us one of those Vice Versa body swaps. Eh, never mind. I'm sure I'd hate it and would want to throw myself in traffic by 5 pm.)

Until I get up the scratch to pay the minimal monthly charge for a unique domain name, I've registered "Marchand Chronicles" at There's nothing there; don't bother checking. (And if one of you cybersquatters buys up,,,, or "marchron" with any of the above suffixes, I'll throw you in traffic.)

--Weekly essays.
For five years I was a biweekly columnist for Notre Dame's student-run paper, The Observer. I enjoyed it so much that for the final three of those years I put up with complaints that pretty much began and ended with why I still had a column when I had already graduated. Evidently The Observer finally caught on last fall and didn't invite me back for a sixth year. Oh well, I had a longer run than Tyrone Willingham.

Writing those columns were one of the few things I've ever really loved doing. Sadly, and this can be proven easily by searching the archives, many, if not most, of my columns were crap. Utter, stinking, mountainous heaps of crap. My deadline was Sunday at noon, and since I usually shut the bars down on Saturday night I had a massive headache, and I had to crank out 800 words when I really needed to be writing a term paper, or at the very least propping a bag of ice against my head and swearing to the heavens never to touch that accursed demon's nectar called alcohol again. But two Sundays later I'd be in the same position. My only excuse is that I was unsalaried; The Observer got what they paid for. (And that I love beer. Mmm, mmm, loves me some beer.)

Unfortunately, it's not like newspapers and magazines simply hand out columnists' positions like they do for, well, journalists'. I can't be a journalist because I can't be neutral in many situations, and sadly, columnists mostly seem to be journalists whose opinions have achieved a certain level of editorial merit. Using those qualifications, though, how Maureen Dowd is still employed is beyond my feeble faculties.

Hey, I like movies. I like TV. I like books, too, but less than movies and TV. Why not write about them? I'm sure I can convey my attitudes about them with far less pretentiousness than guys like Ebert & Roeper, who deign their thumbs' vertical position on movies with the same air as Colosseum nobles who decide whether to spare the losing slave or have him killed.

--"Douchebag Of The Week."
This shall be what vaults me into the blogosphere's stratosphere. Each week, I'll comb out the biggest jerks in the news and award them the Douchebag Of The Week title. (My nominee for this week would have to be Jan Egeland, the UN bigshot who backhandedly said the U.S. was "stingy," igniting a worldwide peeing contest that, even if you agree with the stingies or the anti-stingies, seems so horribly pointless considering the death and destruction. Brag about how much you helped afterwards, people. Actually, don't brag about it at all. Shut up and get to helping.)

If the word douchebag offends you, I'm sorry, but I've done the best I can (even Mirriam-Webster recognizes it as official slang). My original title was filthier, involving a donkey and a void of space. When I realized Hustler Magazine has a monthly award with that name (uhhhh, how'd I know that? . . . ), I altered it to a donkey and a piece of clothing worn on one's head. When I realized that was probably still too strong for those readers who wish to keep it clean, I opted for "Douchebag." It's punchy enough to suit, it reads in print better than "asshat" (oh crap, now I've said it), and, best of all, at the end of the year I can make trophies consisting of actual, real douchebags spraypainted gold, silver, and bronze, and mail them to the people all my adoring fans consider the Douchebags Of The Year. I tingle just thinking about Michael Moore or Jeanine Garafolo opening a package and finding a golden douchebag. (I half-tingle just thinking about walking into my local drugstore and purchasing three boxes of Massengill. That just sounds like fun.)

That's all I got for now. Watch for these little bits and pieces as I spend the next couple weeks establishing my little Marchron monster.


Location: Mishawaka, Indiana, United States

I graduated with an English degree from the University Of Notre Dame in 2001, and in 2008 I have a day job that has nothing to do with my degree but gets the bills paid in a semi-regular fashion. (I have running water five days a week!) The idea is that once I get turned around on my bills, I go to grad school. I also have an idea for cold fusion. Anyone's guess which will be feasible first. In non-work mode, I'm usually reading columns by famous and well-read thinkers, blogs by critically praised writers, or sometimes blogs by overzealous cranks who make me laugh. I yearn to be all three at once; until then I'll settle for being the third. I also have an undying love for the Chicago Cubs and Notre Dame football. Praise them and I'll buy you a beer; curse them and I'll dump it over your head. If that's not enough, I'm becoming quite the fan of no-limit Texas Hold'em. My games have one of two results: I either win all the money or whine because I didn't win all the money.

marchandchronicles -at-

Fair warning: I reserve the right to post any and all criticisms and flames, in their entirety. Seriously. Just ask this guy.

July 2006
May 2006
April 2006
January 2006

January | February | March | April
May | June | July | August
September | October | November | December

Essays on whatever I feel like writing about.

August 8, 2005: High Gas Prices
August 1, 2005: Judge Roberts' Hearings
June 20, 2005: Senator Durbin's Comments
May 23, 2005: Newsweek & Pepsi
May 2, 2005: Al Gore's MoveOn Speech
April 25, 2005: Lebanon
April 18, 2005: The Nuclear Option
April 11, 2005: Pope John Paul II
March 5, 2005: The Domino Effect
January 31, 2005: Iraqi Elections
January 24, 2005: Bush's Inaugural
January 17, 2005: Roemer, Dean & The DNC

WARNING: links, comments & trackbacks may contain profanities or other items of unscruples. marchand chronicles does not endorse any comment/opinion expressed in any such addendum.

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Contributor to Steal The Blinds


marchand chronicles has such massive readership and influence that it makes me weep.
—Glenn Reynolds


Damn right.


What's Your Line?


I absolutely love the name of your site.

Scott "Big Trunk" Johnson, Power Line
Just the name? Not the content? . . . I'll take it.

You have something in common with Dave Barry, Hemingway, and Mark Steyn: I'm not linking to them, either.


That's good stuff there Mark.

Dean Barnett, Soxblog
Psst, it's "Mike."

(click to buy)

St. Elsewhere
The Pulse: SIRIUS 9

All text and original images © MMVI by Mike Marchand/Marchand Chronicles.

Okay, so I don't really have a copyright. But I still don't want you ripping me off. Reprint it all over the Internet if you like, but give me proper credit and link back to me. Besides, if you're going to plagiarize, steal from someone with some talent.

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