We thank the Style Editor for her kind words. It has been a giddy time for New England sports fans, 'lo these last several years. The Red Sox and now the Patriots, again. I cannot help but feeling a tad spoiled for all the good fan fortune coming our way after a prolonged walk in the wilderness which was the 1990s.

By the way, I'd surprised if a mob of Eagles' fans aren't hanging around the stadium with torches and pitchforks, waiting for Andy Reid to appear and explain himself. To have your team huddle and mill around the field with 5 minutes left, down by 10 points, is a sports felony. I don't recall ever seeing such poor strategy and time management in the Super Bowl. Just plain dumb.

On another note, a strikingly odd and interesting note, a former Nureumberg guard now claims that he believes he gave Hermann Goering the cyanide poison that killed him. Two strange figures named "Erich" and "Mathias" showed up at the prison, said the Field Marshall was ill, and that he needed this medicine.

"(Erich) said it was medication, and that if it worked and Goering felt better, they'd send him some more," Stivers said. "I wasn't thinking of suicide when I took it to Goering. He was never in a bad frame of mind."

A military investigation concluded that Goering had the cyanide all along and that a vial of poison was at various times in a body cavity or behind the rim of his cell toilet.

The Army's explanation never rang true to him, Stivers said, noting that Goering "was there over a year. Why would he wait all that time if he had the cyanide?"

How fascinating and bizarre. First, who are Erich and Mathias? Second, how could they get such easy access to such a high-ranking figure as Goering? Third, how dumb could this guard be to agree to do this? Too many holes here, and unanswered questions. I smell a book coming.

Happy Birthday Sir Thomas More, Charles Dickens, and Sinclair Lewis.

The towers of Zenith aspired above the morning mist; austere towers of steel and cement and limestone, sturdy as cliffs and delicate as silver rods. They were neither citadels nor churches, but frankly and beautifully office-buildings...(Opening lines to Lewis' "Babbitt," 1922)