For half a century, Samuel Beckett's immortal classic "Waiting for Godot" has been the quintessential literary allegory for ennui, existential dread, and the unnerving absurdity that haunts our every waking minute as we wait in vain for something that will never come. All good things must come to an end, though, just as Godot's fifty-year reign did last Saturday in the rain-soaked, lightning-ravaged hellscape of South Bend, Indiana. Today, the phrase "waiting for Godot" has officially phased out of existence and been replaced with its more modern neologism, "waiting for the rain delay to end in the ND-USF game in order to watch the Irish flail about insanely and commit a hundred new and exciting forms of football suicide." While it may be a bit more of a mouthful than its predecessor, what it lacks in pith it more than makes up for in total accuracy.



Don't worry about Beckett, his legacy is still intact, as he will always be remembered as the guy who lived next door to a school-aged André the Giant and chauffeured him to class (Editors note, I will admit to being quite the horse manure peddler on this blog, but the Beckett-André the Giant connection is actually honestly-to-god real. The world is a deeply insane place. How wondrous is that bizarre and random happenstance?) In the mean time, enjoy Stuffing the Passer's latest foray, "Rain Delay Theater". Some laughs are had, some zombies are killed, and the occasional mock naval battle is performed in a hastily-constructed hippodrome. Bon chance, mes amis.







That's disgusting! Plus, I think it violates a number of maritime treaties.