Fearless dreamer. Intrepid originator. Erotic idealogue.
Kyle Whelliston was all of these things and so much more. Over the course of thirty-one years, he wrote 2,370 articles and essays for various online and print publications, as well as some books. As per his last will and testament, all 2,923,579 of his life's words have been collected here, in one place, for eternal posterity. Keep his flame alive. This is the Whelliston Memorial Library.

Stardate 120-20110307 - Don't Be a Stranger
BRIDGEPORT, Conn. -- Last week, I went to a late regular-season matchup between Rhode Island and George Washington. These days when I go to games, I sit in the front row wearing a suit and sneakers at a desk, with a touchscreen computer for dispatching short bursts of information to the internet.
Akron still reeling from postseason snub
AKRON, Ohio -- Up in the four corners of Rhodes Arena loom four gigantic photo murals, each honoring one of the University of Akron's four greatest head coaches. In the east corner is Bob Huggins, forever youthful and smiling, leading the Zips to the 1986 NCAA Tournament. Across from him is Russ Beich, the school's winningest coach with 286 victories.
MMBOW #4 - Michael Bramos, Miami (Oh.)
The Mid-Majority tries to keep it fresh, mix it up, to stay frisky and funky in a world full of stale coach-speak and paint-by-numbers analysis. But this time, it's impossible. For one of the very few times in this site's obscure history, we are recycling a subject line letter-for-letter.
Hope vs. Hope in Ospreyland
JACKSONVILLE, Fla. -- The boy-girl mascots of the University of North Florida are named Ozzie and Harriet. They're two sea hawks, or rather ospreys, and they wear the numbers 19 and 72 to commemorate their school's opening year.
Texas Southern’s Travels
Anonymous squads with odd names (many of which feature directional indicators) parade through their home buildings in their strange dark uniforms. The outcome of the contests are assured. The guests absorb crushing, staggering losses on the court, and then they disappear, shadowlike, into the cold night — as though they’d never been there at all.