Thursday, October 28, 2004
Am I the only one who finds it really offensive when people say that those who don't support Bush must have forgotten what they felt like immediately after September 11th?
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
I'm all excited and everything, but...
please, God, let it end.
I'm getting sick of waiting on the loudest, longest, stickiest, and (being Boston) whitest ejaculation in human history. Hopefully it’ll go down tonight, because I’m getting pretty damn sick of this shit. This town is inundated with complete baseball fags, who are tragically incapable of talking about anything else, ever. I hope to fall asleep tonight coated in viscous municipal fluids that have been slowly stirred by an 86-year blow job. Please, Lord, let it rain down upon us tonight.
please, God, let it end.
I'm getting sick of waiting on the loudest, longest, stickiest, and (being Boston) whitest ejaculation in human history. Hopefully it’ll go down tonight, because I’m getting pretty damn sick of this shit. This town is inundated with complete baseball fags, who are tragically incapable of talking about anything else, ever. I hope to fall asleep tonight coated in viscous municipal fluids that have been slowly stirred by an 86-year blow job. Please, Lord, let it rain down upon us tonight.
on occasion we post links to mp3's
And what occasions they be. Now is such a time. Here's something of a lost classic from Guided by Voices, a pugnacious little tune that appeared (in a lower fidelity) on the Suitcase box. You can't tell due to the ultra-shitty needle on my old turntable, but this version was recorded on a studio, and far surpasses the four-track rendition. This one comes from a double-vinyl bootleg that popped up in '98 or so. It's three-and-a-half sides of live GBV circa '96 or maybe '97, with three studio outtakes rounding out side four. The other two studio tracks are pretty good, too, but nowhere near as good as "Pantherz". Also, if you can name the true GBV classic that recycles the guitar line from this song, DJ will buy you a couple cases of Molson, and give you all of Ice's stash.
And what occasions they be. Now is such a time. Here's something of a lost classic from Guided by Voices, a pugnacious little tune that appeared (in a lower fidelity) on the Suitcase box. You can't tell due to the ultra-shitty needle on my old turntable, but this version was recorded on a studio, and far surpasses the four-track rendition. This one comes from a double-vinyl bootleg that popped up in '98 or so. It's three-and-a-half sides of live GBV circa '96 or maybe '97, with three studio outtakes rounding out side four. The other two studio tracks are pretty good, too, but nowhere near as good as "Pantherz". Also, if you can name the true GBV classic that recycles the guitar line from this song, DJ will buy you a couple cases of Molson, and give you all of Ice's stash.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
A Probable Future
Will the Red Sox be the first team to win a series after going down 0-3, and the second team to lose a series after going up 3-0?
Will the Red Sox be the first team to win a series after going down 0-3, and the second team to lose a series after going up 3-0?
Monday, October 25, 2004
Greg Shaw RIP
Greg Shaw, of Bomp! Records (and the magazine of the same name), apparently died last week.
Greg Shaw, of Bomp! Records (and the magazine of the same name), apparently died last week.
Yesterday's Globe had an interesting article about a UGA history professor and his new book. I took a survey course with Hoffer during my brief time as a grad student and found him to be a relatively effective teacher. He was openly dismissive and antagonistic towards us much of the time, but that seems to be standard in entry-level graduate courses. I also got in some shit with him for missing a class in order to go to CMJ. He was a fine man, though, with an even finer beard, and I'm sure this book will be most excellent. He's certainly no Ed Larson, though.
Friday, October 22, 2004
monster hash
As noted elsewhere, Je Suis France (the stupid band that controls this stupid site) will not be playing at Nuci's Space this weekend. To make it up to all the poor souls out there craving some hot fresh France action, we went ahead and threw some new crap up on our website. We got some new news, some new photos, mp3s of stuff from our albums and cd-r's, a few unreleased songs, and a very special holiday message from Jeff Griggs. We offer you a couple minutes of good-time tomfoolery, and all we ask for in return is your respect, and sympathy. Thank you.
As noted elsewhere, Je Suis France (the stupid band that controls this stupid site) will not be playing at Nuci's Space this weekend. To make it up to all the poor souls out there craving some hot fresh France action, we went ahead and threw some new crap up on our website. We got some new news, some new photos, mp3s of stuff from our albums and cd-r's, a few unreleased songs, and a very special holiday message from Jeff Griggs. We offer you a couple minutes of good-time tomfoolery, and all we ask for in return is your respect, and sympathy. Thank you.
Country Slaughter
Of all the dramatic post-season failures that have bedeviled the Red Sox throughout history, my personal favorite is probably Game Seven of the 1946 World Series. Enos Slaughter, playing with a broken elbow since the fifth game, scored the winning run with two outs in the eighth inning on a "mad dash" from first after a bloop single by Harry Walker. Not only does it evoke memories of the amazing Game Seven of the '92 NLCS (probably the greatest thing I've ever witnessed live, in person, ever), it involved a curious figure from baseball history that has always intrigued me.
"Country" Enos Slaughter is one of the greatest names ever bestowed upon a human being. He was born and raised in Roxboro, North Carolina, which is one town over from my parents' and grandparents' hometown, Oxford. He retired to Roxboro and remained there until his death in 2002. Of course he was a regional hero, especially after making it into the Hall of Fame, but as far as I know he never exploited his stature by opening up a car dealership or restaurant or anything like that. I first heard of him when I was a kid, back in the early '80's, through my grandfather, who was apparently friends with Slaughter; I figured anyone who was a friend of Papa's had to be a great guy, especially if he had a lifetime batting average of .300.
It was pretty incredible that my grandfather was friends with a baseball legend, and I had always respected Slaughter due to that connection and his World Series heroics. But then, in 1997, back during the Jackie Robinson tribute season, I learned that Slaughter was apparently the most out-spoken critic of integration and the biggest racist asshole in baseball's history. Supposedly Slaughter tried to organize a player strike against the Dodgers, and later spiked Robinson during a game. Enos always denied the strike effort and being a racist, but whether that's true or not is little consequence, as he's already been irrevocably painted an asshole.
The Boston Globe has a great series of paintings and articles today about the history of the Red Sox. It is, of course, a history of complete and total soul-wrenching failure. The title link above will take you to the Slaughter article, if you're so inclined. The rest of the series is well worth checking out, as well.
And to all you non-baseball fans who come to this site, I apologize for the extreme athletic content of late. In a week or so this will all be over, and we can go back to talking about shitty music that nobody gives a fuck about.
Of all the dramatic post-season failures that have bedeviled the Red Sox throughout history, my personal favorite is probably Game Seven of the 1946 World Series. Enos Slaughter, playing with a broken elbow since the fifth game, scored the winning run with two outs in the eighth inning on a "mad dash" from first after a bloop single by Harry Walker. Not only does it evoke memories of the amazing Game Seven of the '92 NLCS (probably the greatest thing I've ever witnessed live, in person, ever), it involved a curious figure from baseball history that has always intrigued me.
"Country" Enos Slaughter is one of the greatest names ever bestowed upon a human being. He was born and raised in Roxboro, North Carolina, which is one town over from my parents' and grandparents' hometown, Oxford. He retired to Roxboro and remained there until his death in 2002. Of course he was a regional hero, especially after making it into the Hall of Fame, but as far as I know he never exploited his stature by opening up a car dealership or restaurant or anything like that. I first heard of him when I was a kid, back in the early '80's, through my grandfather, who was apparently friends with Slaughter; I figured anyone who was a friend of Papa's had to be a great guy, especially if he had a lifetime batting average of .300.
It was pretty incredible that my grandfather was friends with a baseball legend, and I had always respected Slaughter due to that connection and his World Series heroics. But then, in 1997, back during the Jackie Robinson tribute season, I learned that Slaughter was apparently the most out-spoken critic of integration and the biggest racist asshole in baseball's history. Supposedly Slaughter tried to organize a player strike against the Dodgers, and later spiked Robinson during a game. Enos always denied the strike effort and being a racist, but whether that's true or not is little consequence, as he's already been irrevocably painted an asshole.
The Boston Globe has a great series of paintings and articles today about the history of the Red Sox. It is, of course, a history of complete and total soul-wrenching failure. The title link above will take you to the Slaughter article, if you're so inclined. The rest of the series is well worth checking out, as well.
And to all you non-baseball fans who come to this site, I apologize for the extreme athletic content of late. In a week or so this will all be over, and we can go back to talking about shitty music that nobody gives a fuck about.
Should We Be Rooting for St. Louis?
The Red Sox last won the World Series in 1918. That same year saw one of the worst influenza epidemics in history. Here we are, 86 years later, with the Sox in the Series and a major flu vaccine shortage. Could history be repeating itself?
Also, the Sox have made the Series only five times since 1918. In three of those, they faced the Cardinals. Beating the Cards would probably make this season slightly sweeter for the old-timers.
The Red Sox last won the World Series in 1918. That same year saw one of the worst influenza epidemics in history. Here we are, 86 years later, with the Sox in the Series and a major flu vaccine shortage. Could history be repeating itself?
Also, the Sox have made the Series only five times since 1918. In three of those, they faced the Cardinals. Beating the Cards would probably make this season slightly sweeter for the old-timers.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
the type of shit that makes me almost hate sports
Does the fact that it's apparently the cops who are responsible, and not the fans, make this any more or less horrible?
Does the fact that it's apparently the cops who are responsible, and not the fans, make this any more or less horrible?
the mean streets of quincy
Usually the biggest news around the office is the occasional Tom Brady sighting at Panera or a nearby gas station. Within the last hour, though, some guy (or guys) armed with a shotgun (or maybe a machine gun) held up a Wells Fargo at a bank down the street, killing (or maybe just shooting) the driver and/or the bank's security guard. There are about five police choppers buzzing around outside, and I was able to see one through a window without even getting out of my cubicle. The perps apparently took off right before the cops arrived and there's now a big manhunt in the area. Thank the maker we've got the crack BCBS security team to look after all of us here.
Usually the biggest news around the office is the occasional Tom Brady sighting at Panera or a nearby gas station. Within the last hour, though, some guy (or guys) armed with a shotgun (or maybe a machine gun) held up a Wells Fargo at a bank down the street, killing (or maybe just shooting) the driver and/or the bank's security guard. There are about five police choppers buzzing around outside, and I was able to see one through a window without even getting out of my cubicle. The perps apparently took off right before the cops arrived and there's now a big manhunt in the area. Thank the maker we've got the crack BCBS security team to look after all of us here.
probably the worst photograph of post-victory urban violence ever
There were maybe a hundred people gathered around the nearest big intersection, the corner of Harvard and Commonwealth. Some kids starting throwing around the nearby newspaper boxes, banging on them with sticks and skateboards, all the while chanting "Yankees suck". Fireworks were going off randomly, drivers were laying on the horns and hanging out the windows, and hundreds of folks were running through he streets. It was really damn pathetic, to be honest. Nothing but a lot of stupid, spoiled, idiotic fucking kids acting like complete jackasses. After maybe ten minutes we returned home to watch the coverage on TV. The scenes from Kenmore Square and the Fenway area made me wish I had taken the train ride down. Thousands of people were just sort of milling about, with rows of cops in riot gear flanking the mob on every direction. It looked like there was less violence and easily more humanity (in terms of numbers, not necessarily respect) than here in Allston.
Anyway, it was a good end to an excellent series, and I am excited to have witnessed sports history in the town of the team what made it. Hopefully these guys can take it to whoever wins in St. Louis tomorrow.
There were maybe a hundred people gathered around the nearest big intersection, the corner of Harvard and Commonwealth. Some kids starting throwing around the nearby newspaper boxes, banging on them with sticks and skateboards, all the while chanting "Yankees suck". Fireworks were going off randomly, drivers were laying on the horns and hanging out the windows, and hundreds of folks were running through he streets. It was really damn pathetic, to be honest. Nothing but a lot of stupid, spoiled, idiotic fucking kids acting like complete jackasses. After maybe ten minutes we returned home to watch the coverage on TV. The scenes from Kenmore Square and the Fenway area made me wish I had taken the train ride down. Thousands of people were just sort of milling about, with rows of cops in riot gear flanking the mob on every direction. It looked like there was less violence and easily more humanity (in terms of numbers, not necessarily respect) than here in Allston.
Anyway, it was a good end to an excellent series, and I am excited to have witnessed sports history in the town of the team what made it. Hopefully these guys can take it to whoever wins in St. Louis tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
that new pavement thing
Matador's posted an mp3 from the special edition rerelease of Pavement's Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. The record itself comes out next Tuesday. This previously unreleased song, "All My Friends", might be familiar to my fellow obsessive Pavement dorks; the first part seems to be the same song as one of the very poorly recorded live tracks from the Stuff Up the Cracks bootleg (I believe maybe the song labeled "Sebadoh Song"?), but by the end you realize it's the full version of the track that appeared in truncated form as "Exit Theory (Edit)" on the Gold Soundz single. I gotta say, the fifty second cut on that record might be better than the full song.
Matador's posted an mp3 from the special edition rerelease of Pavement's Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. The record itself comes out next Tuesday. This previously unreleased song, "All My Friends", might be familiar to my fellow obsessive Pavement dorks; the first part seems to be the same song as one of the very poorly recorded live tracks from the Stuff Up the Cracks bootleg (I believe maybe the song labeled "Sebadoh Song"?), but by the end you realize it's the full version of the track that appeared in truncated form as "Exit Theory (Edit)" on the Gold Soundz single. I gotta say, the fifty second cut on that record might be better than the full song.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
something i've noticed, thanks to metacritic
I don't think TV Guide really likes any movie, ever. The TV Guide reviews linked to through Metacritic are invariably in the yellow zone, no matter the film. Their reviews always translate to a 50 or 60 score, even for a movie like Tarnation, which has garnered almost entirely excellent notices. Could TV Guide be giving all movies mediocre to bad reviews in order to keep people out of theaters? Is there some ulterior motive behind this?
I don't think TV Guide really likes any movie, ever. The TV Guide reviews linked to through Metacritic are invariably in the yellow zone, no matter the film. Their reviews always translate to a 50 or 60 score, even for a movie like Tarnation, which has garnered almost entirely excellent notices. Could TV Guide be giving all movies mediocre to bad reviews in order to keep people out of theaters? Is there some ulterior motive behind this?
jandek live ?!?
Apparently Jandek played a show in Glasgow the other day, which, of course, is pretty fucking nuts, considering the past 26 years (or so) of complete and total secrecy and reclusion. This was his first live performance ever. According to what I've been able to find on-line, Jandek agreed to play only after multiple assurances that his name would never be mentioned in any capacity by the promoters. Also, Corwood Industries will supposedly be releasing this both as a cd and dvd. Finally, I haven't seen the documentary that's out there, "Jandek on Corwood", but I believe it's playing in Athens soon (if it hasn't already); I've heard it's a good introduction to the mystery, and so maybe some of you down there in Georgia should go check it out. I think it's showing at the 40 Watt soon.
Apparently Jandek played a show in Glasgow the other day, which, of course, is pretty fucking nuts, considering the past 26 years (or so) of complete and total secrecy and reclusion. This was his first live performance ever. According to what I've been able to find on-line, Jandek agreed to play only after multiple assurances that his name would never be mentioned in any capacity by the promoters. Also, Corwood Industries will supposedly be releasing this both as a cd and dvd. Finally, I haven't seen the documentary that's out there, "Jandek on Corwood", but I believe it's playing in Athens soon (if it hasn't already); I've heard it's a good introduction to the mystery, and so maybe some of you down there in Georgia should go check it out. I think it's showing at the 40 Watt soon.
Monday, October 18, 2004
where will Bulldog Nation go to clog its arteries?
According to the Day Jobs, Guthrie's has closed its doors for good. That's pretty much the worst news I've heard in a few days now. It's astounding how far Baxter Street has fallen since those heady days of '96-'97 and the Baxter Street Challenge. Guthrie's was the linchpin, the foundation, of Athens' Culinary District. Hopefully they'll tear the entire building down so that I won't have to lay eyes upon the depressing sight of a barren, empty Guthrie's.
According to the Day Jobs, Guthrie's has closed its doors for good. That's pretty much the worst news I've heard in a few days now. It's astounding how far Baxter Street has fallen since those heady days of '96-'97 and the Baxter Street Challenge. Guthrie's was the linchpin, the foundation, of Athens' Culinary District. Hopefully they'll tear the entire building down so that I won't have to lay eyes upon the depressing sight of a barren, empty Guthrie's.
Friday, October 15, 2004
and so it begins...
A few weeks ago I brought up the Mekons, and how it was slightly odd that I had yet to really get into them. Well, I'm finally getting into them. I picked up their recent "best of", Heaven and Hell, and am pretty much loving it. It definitely reminds me of the Clash at times, but with less anger and a bit more "art" involved. Maybe this is what the Clash could have sounded like if they had stayed together into their 30's and 40's. I might have some more to say about this later on. But yeah, SA, I'd recommend this. You could also say that this could be Springsteen if he was an old British punk into reggae, country, and early rock and not as into melodrama and melodic business. And if he let Patti sing half the time. And if you replaced the sax with an accordion. Yes.
A few weeks ago I brought up the Mekons, and how it was slightly odd that I had yet to really get into them. Well, I'm finally getting into them. I picked up their recent "best of", Heaven and Hell, and am pretty much loving it. It definitely reminds me of the Clash at times, but with less anger and a bit more "art" involved. Maybe this is what the Clash could have sounded like if they had stayed together into their 30's and 40's. I might have some more to say about this later on. But yeah, SA, I'd recommend this. You could also say that this could be Springsteen if he was an old British punk into reggae, country, and early rock and not as into melodrama and melodic business. And if he let Patti sing half the time. And if you replaced the sax with an accordion. Yes.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
That New Growing Pains Movie Looks Like It Could Be "The Shit"
I could barely stand watching either the debate or the game last night. Both were just boring lifeless more of the same unendurable shit. The first debate was interesting because it was the first, and because Bush seemed so deliciously retarded. The second debate was significantly less interesting, but it at least had a format that distinguished it from its predecessor, as well as an anger-saturated, shout-filled performance from the President. This last one was just torture, though, just constant restatements of the same damn questions, answered with the same damn stock replies, misstatements, and distortions.
And sweet Jesus, I'm ready to believe that these Red Sox just might be cursed, like, for real. Schilling's ankle, which has been bothering him since May, finally gives out right before their first playoff game against the Yankees? John "I was pretty good in 2002 but haven't pitched outside of MLB Slugfest since" Lieber shuts the most productive line-up in baseball out for seven innings? The Sox are so thoroughly, cosmically fucked, always and forever, that you'd think they drank God's last can of Pimp Juice, or something. It still wouldn't surprise me if they won the series, even without Schilling, but these first two games have demoralized the fine, sturdy, only slightly occasionally assholish citizens of Boston and various outlying surroundings.
But so, the debate was as dull as my wit, and, for whatever reason, I was peculiarly uninterested in paying close attention to a baseball game. Still, Wednesday was not a complete televisual bust, howsoever, as the best show currently on tv was particularly great last night. Lost has been mostly excellent, and yesterday's episode was easily the best thus far. The backstory of Locke (the creepy old guy with the eye-scar) featured some of the finest, most direct and effective character development this side of Freaks and Geeks. After having conditioned us to think of Locke as a potential villain solely through the use of ominous musical cues and the character's physical appearance, the creators of Lost proceeded to turn him into the most sympathetic and respectable character on the show. They enacted a complete, drastic shift in the audience's attitudes in one single episode. And in keeping with the traditions of a good origin story, they raised as many new questions about Locke's past as they answered (and that doesn't even include the big obvious question about what exactly he saw when the "creature" approached him in the clearing).
But so, Lost is about as good as tv gets. It's so good that it's more entertaining than the process that will decide the fate of civilization as we know it. It's even more exciting than Pedro versus the Yankees. I would recommend this program to anyone who enjoys enjoyment, and dislikes that which is dull and lifeless.
I could barely stand watching either the debate or the game last night. Both were just boring lifeless more of the same unendurable shit. The first debate was interesting because it was the first, and because Bush seemed so deliciously retarded. The second debate was significantly less interesting, but it at least had a format that distinguished it from its predecessor, as well as an anger-saturated, shout-filled performance from the President. This last one was just torture, though, just constant restatements of the same damn questions, answered with the same damn stock replies, misstatements, and distortions.
And sweet Jesus, I'm ready to believe that these Red Sox just might be cursed, like, for real. Schilling's ankle, which has been bothering him since May, finally gives out right before their first playoff game against the Yankees? John "I was pretty good in 2002 but haven't pitched outside of MLB Slugfest since" Lieber shuts the most productive line-up in baseball out for seven innings? The Sox are so thoroughly, cosmically fucked, always and forever, that you'd think they drank God's last can of Pimp Juice, or something. It still wouldn't surprise me if they won the series, even without Schilling, but these first two games have demoralized the fine, sturdy, only slightly occasionally assholish citizens of Boston and various outlying surroundings.
But so, the debate was as dull as my wit, and, for whatever reason, I was peculiarly uninterested in paying close attention to a baseball game. Still, Wednesday was not a complete televisual bust, howsoever, as the best show currently on tv was particularly great last night. Lost has been mostly excellent, and yesterday's episode was easily the best thus far. The backstory of Locke (the creepy old guy with the eye-scar) featured some of the finest, most direct and effective character development this side of Freaks and Geeks. After having conditioned us to think of Locke as a potential villain solely through the use of ominous musical cues and the character's physical appearance, the creators of Lost proceeded to turn him into the most sympathetic and respectable character on the show. They enacted a complete, drastic shift in the audience's attitudes in one single episode. And in keeping with the traditions of a good origin story, they raised as many new questions about Locke's past as they answered (and that doesn't even include the big obvious question about what exactly he saw when the "creature" approached him in the clearing).
But so, Lost is about as good as tv gets. It's so good that it's more entertaining than the process that will decide the fate of civilization as we know it. It's even more exciting than Pedro versus the Yankees. I would recommend this program to anyone who enjoys enjoyment, and dislikes that which is dull and lifeless.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Embrace the Journey
Every once in a while, it happens... A visionary is born. Someone who observes deeply: Enter RoGizz. This native of chi-town can count the nation's capitol and Los Angeles as places he grew up both physically and mentally.
In addition to music, RoGizz counts community service as a vital part of his life. RoGizz, poet, artist, activist and future leader. Embrace the journey...
Every once in a while, it happens... A visionary is born. Someone who observes deeply: Enter RoGizz. This native of chi-town can count the nation's capitol and Los Angeles as places he grew up both physically and mentally.
In addition to music, RoGizz counts community service as a vital part of his life. RoGizz, poet, artist, activist and future leader. Embrace the journey...
I didn't know he was from Smyrna
New Jack's in trouble down in Florida. Not surprising. What is suprising is that this made the Drudge Report, for some reason.
New Jack's in trouble down in Florida. Not surprising. What is suprising is that this made the Drudge Report, for some reason.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
"When Roger [Clemens] gets in trouble," said Atlanta's Marcus Giles, "his stuff gets a little bit more nasty. He just turns it up a notch with men in scoring position. If he didn't, I don't think he'd have had the success he's had in his 35 years in the big leagues."
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Braves?
I'm interested in the Braves-faithful's thoughts on today's performance.
They are playing by far the hottest team in baseball right now. I don't know how you guys could even dare confidently speak of them being in the world series.
I'm interested in the Braves-faithful's thoughts on today's performance.
They are playing by far the hottest team in baseball right now. I don't know how you guys could even dare confidently speak of them being in the world series.
Why the Democrats Would Be More Likely to Bring Back the Draft
Obviously nobody wants the draft to return. That would be political death for whoever signs the bill, and very quite literally death for a good number of however many young Americans get sucked up into that all-devouring black hole. I don’t think fears of a second Bush term resuscitating the draft are entirely justified, though. The Republicans would never do that, because they know that if they do they will lose power. If it happens before 2006, they can kiss control of Congress goodbye, and if before 2008, then Jeb and/or Rudy (and/or Mitt) would stand no chance to become President. And since power, control, and reelection matters more to this ultra-conservative, far-right GOP than everything except gays and abortion, we won’t be seeing any draft under their watch anytime soon (unless it’s a draft that only applies to homosexuals, abortion doctors, liberals, and the poor, which is probably what they’ll do, now that I think about it).
But there’s a very real chance that we might need to bring the draft back. The military is already overextended as is. If something happens that would force action against Iran or North Korea or whoever else, a reinstituted draft might become a necessity. And although I don’t trust or respect Kerry anymore than I do the average politician, I would definitely trust his administration to do what needs to be done more than I would that of a reelected Bush. The Bush people have proven that politics are more important to them than anything, and can not be trusted to do what’s best for America. If the situation arises where a draft is required to protect our country, it’s clear that a Kerry administration, or probably any administration led by responsible adults, would be more likely to make that politically suicidal choice than the Bush people. Let’s hope that never has to happen, of course.
Obviously nobody wants the draft to return. That would be political death for whoever signs the bill, and very quite literally death for a good number of however many young Americans get sucked up into that all-devouring black hole. I don’t think fears of a second Bush term resuscitating the draft are entirely justified, though. The Republicans would never do that, because they know that if they do they will lose power. If it happens before 2006, they can kiss control of Congress goodbye, and if before 2008, then Jeb and/or Rudy (and/or Mitt) would stand no chance to become President. And since power, control, and reelection matters more to this ultra-conservative, far-right GOP than everything except gays and abortion, we won’t be seeing any draft under their watch anytime soon (unless it’s a draft that only applies to homosexuals, abortion doctors, liberals, and the poor, which is probably what they’ll do, now that I think about it).
But there’s a very real chance that we might need to bring the draft back. The military is already overextended as is. If something happens that would force action against Iran or North Korea or whoever else, a reinstituted draft might become a necessity. And although I don’t trust or respect Kerry anymore than I do the average politician, I would definitely trust his administration to do what needs to be done more than I would that of a reelected Bush. The Bush people have proven that politics are more important to them than anything, and can not be trusted to do what’s best for America. If the situation arises where a draft is required to protect our country, it’s clear that a Kerry administration, or probably any administration led by responsible adults, would be more likely to make that politically suicidal choice than the Bush people. Let’s hope that never has to happen, of course.
last night
I had forgotten how boring politics and baseball can be if you’re not drinking. It was hard to make it through either of the two events I was so excited about last night. I’m surprised that a man can dish out as many sensational lies and personal attacks as Dick Cheney did and still be ineffably, stultifyingly boring. One of the main far-right wing-nut canards after the first presidential debate was that Kerry may have won on style, but Bush won on substance. That’s like saying Liston really beat Ali because his punches were individually more damaging. Or that Bruiser Brody beat the guy who stabbed him to death ‘cuz he bled all over his shoes. (I won’t get into the phantom punch or Liston’s mob ties or Brody refusing to job or any of that bullshit).
BUT SO – that line of attack is manifestly not true, in relation to that first debate. Kerry pummeled Bush on style and substance alike. You could apply that assertion to last night, though, but only if you completely flipped it around. Cheney is the most soul-crushingly boring public figure I can remember ever paying attention to, but I think there’s no doubt that he came off better than Edwards last night, at least during the foreign policy section. (Disclaimer: I spent more time watching baseball than the debate after they got into domestic issues) Even though many of his claims are easily proven to be lies (such as never having met Edwards before, and claiming to have never implicated Iraq in the 9/11 attacks) and distortions (pretty much everything that had to do with Kerry’s record, and redefining the coalition to include the Iraqis), Cheney speaks in such a direct, no-nonsense, authoritative way that most folks who don’t already hate him or know better will believe him. Edwards didn’t do a good enough job of countering these attacks, and there were definitely a few moments that, when replayed by the disinterested and/or openly biased media, will look like Cheney completely stomping Edwards. People aren’t going to remember the responses, and they definitely aren’t going to get the facts; what’s going to stick out in their heads are Cheney’s attacks, and whether or not there’s any truth or accuracy to them won’t matter once the media’s finished. Cheney didn’t even try to respond to most of Edwards’ factual observations about the shitstorm in Iraq, because other than lying and saying that things are going well and that we’re turning the corner there’s nothing they can say that wouldn’t concede the point. Edwards definitely won on substance, but in the first half, at least, Cheney and his remarkable facility for deceit played better on television.
Meanwhile, I was far more atwitter about seeing the best pitcher in baseball, and my favorite non-Brave, non-Sox, non-Giles player, take it to the god-damned Yankees. If you don’t pay attention to baseball, and if you’ve never seen Santana pitch before, and only know what the Fox video package presented, you probably would think that he’s really overrated, after watching last night’s game. It was not one of his best starts, and he obviously struggled at spots. But he’s so ridiculously great that, even without his best stuff, he still shut out the Yankees for seven innings. Now, as a fledgling Sox fan I feel conflicted; am I supposed to root for the Yankees in this series, so that the Sox can bust them up in the ALCS? I would like to think not, as every single man, woman, and child alive should be rooting for the Twins (probably the most anti-Yankee of all the anti-Yankees around, moreso even than the A’s). What’s sad is, for horribly selfish and retarded fantasy baseball reasons, I almost want the Twins to lose this series, just so Gardenhire won’t tire out Johan’s tender young arm throughout the post-season. I wouldn’t want my young stud franchiser to go the route of Beckett or Prior next year.
Anyway, to sum up, last night was an okay evening for tv, but it would have been cosmically more interesting had I picked up some beer on the way home from work.
I had forgotten how boring politics and baseball can be if you’re not drinking. It was hard to make it through either of the two events I was so excited about last night. I’m surprised that a man can dish out as many sensational lies and personal attacks as Dick Cheney did and still be ineffably, stultifyingly boring. One of the main far-right wing-nut canards after the first presidential debate was that Kerry may have won on style, but Bush won on substance. That’s like saying Liston really beat Ali because his punches were individually more damaging. Or that Bruiser Brody beat the guy who stabbed him to death ‘cuz he bled all over his shoes. (I won’t get into the phantom punch or Liston’s mob ties or Brody refusing to job or any of that bullshit).
BUT SO – that line of attack is manifestly not true, in relation to that first debate. Kerry pummeled Bush on style and substance alike. You could apply that assertion to last night, though, but only if you completely flipped it around. Cheney is the most soul-crushingly boring public figure I can remember ever paying attention to, but I think there’s no doubt that he came off better than Edwards last night, at least during the foreign policy section. (Disclaimer: I spent more time watching baseball than the debate after they got into domestic issues) Even though many of his claims are easily proven to be lies (such as never having met Edwards before, and claiming to have never implicated Iraq in the 9/11 attacks) and distortions (pretty much everything that had to do with Kerry’s record, and redefining the coalition to include the Iraqis), Cheney speaks in such a direct, no-nonsense, authoritative way that most folks who don’t already hate him or know better will believe him. Edwards didn’t do a good enough job of countering these attacks, and there were definitely a few moments that, when replayed by the disinterested and/or openly biased media, will look like Cheney completely stomping Edwards. People aren’t going to remember the responses, and they definitely aren’t going to get the facts; what’s going to stick out in their heads are Cheney’s attacks, and whether or not there’s any truth or accuracy to them won’t matter once the media’s finished. Cheney didn’t even try to respond to most of Edwards’ factual observations about the shitstorm in Iraq, because other than lying and saying that things are going well and that we’re turning the corner there’s nothing they can say that wouldn’t concede the point. Edwards definitely won on substance, but in the first half, at least, Cheney and his remarkable facility for deceit played better on television.
Meanwhile, I was far more atwitter about seeing the best pitcher in baseball, and my favorite non-Brave, non-Sox, non-Giles player, take it to the god-damned Yankees. If you don’t pay attention to baseball, and if you’ve never seen Santana pitch before, and only know what the Fox video package presented, you probably would think that he’s really overrated, after watching last night’s game. It was not one of his best starts, and he obviously struggled at spots. But he’s so ridiculously great that, even without his best stuff, he still shut out the Yankees for seven innings. Now, as a fledgling Sox fan I feel conflicted; am I supposed to root for the Yankees in this series, so that the Sox can bust them up in the ALCS? I would like to think not, as every single man, woman, and child alive should be rooting for the Twins (probably the most anti-Yankee of all the anti-Yankees around, moreso even than the A’s). What’s sad is, for horribly selfish and retarded fantasy baseball reasons, I almost want the Twins to lose this series, just so Gardenhire won’t tire out Johan’s tender young arm throughout the post-season. I wouldn’t want my young stud franchiser to go the route of Beckett or Prior next year.
Anyway, to sum up, last night was an okay evening for tv, but it would have been cosmically more interesting had I picked up some beer on the way home from work.
Monday, October 04, 2004
I forgot to mention the Scenic Overlook
It was last weekend, and we lived it like a champ. We drove down to the Cape (yes, that Cape), looking for fruit and tuxedos, and instead wound up at the Scallop Fest in downtown Bourne. A midway had been set up in Buzzards Bay Park, with all the thrilling games of chance and death-defying motorized amusements you would expect from any halfway decent county fair. We didn’t take a spin on any of the rides, though, ‘cuz I’m afraid of the Ferris Wheel, and the future missus is afraid of everything else. We did both agree on the little green alligator roller coaster, but unfortunately that ride was not designed to accommodate the physique of the modern adult. It was heartening to see that carnies look the same everywhere, however. The scallop dinner was expensive, and I can’t stand me no scallops anyhow, so we just ate a couple ears of native corn. We also got to enjoy an amazing musical performance from Earl Hamontree, a local accountant whose Casio-backed vocal renditions of Buffett and Motown covers are quite popular with those-in-the-know down in Bourne. We also walked around the “Professional Arts and Crafts” exhibit tent, where we learned that the manufacturing (or perhaps selling) of hot tubs and/or jacuzzis is apparently a professional art and/or craft. There were a number of professional authors on the premises, hoping to sell their inspirational Christmas local interest murder mystery children’s books to the fest-goers. One of them was polite enough to have a sign that let us know that a professional author was, indeed, on the premises. After inspecting the portojohns we decided to take leave from the Scallop Fest and hit up some of the local antique stores. As we were exiting, though, a giant cruise ship passed by on the canal that the park overlooked. It was the closest I’ve ever been to a cruise ship, and I was surprised at how massive it was. That was easily the biggest boat I’ve ever seen in my entire life, much bigger than my Uncle Bob’s old pontoon boat. Anyway, we had a good time in the hour or so that we were at the Scallop Fest, but as far as fairs go it was pretty lackluster. I know the North is different and all, but it was weird to go to a fair without an agricultural hall, and where everything wasn’t blanketed in the stench of cow and pig shit.
We hit up a couple of the junk shops across the street from the park before dinner. We found a couch for a hundred bucks that the lady would have picked up if we had had a truck big enough to get it home. Another store had tons of old postcards of various local attractions and buildings of note from around the country. They had one postcard with a church from Dalton on it, and several postcards from the early 1950’s festooned with drawings of the Bulldog Inn. We wound up buying a lot of records from that store, too; for $15 bucks we got ten lps and three cassettes, including stuff by Seger, Fleetwood Mac, Uriah Heap, Pearls Before Swine, Uncle Dave Macon, Dylan, and Bob Wills. We also got an old K-Tel compilation that has the Incredible Bongo Band’s “Bongo Song”, among others. Maybe I’m an idiot, but I had no idea that that damn Coors Light song was based on something Tom T. Hall did in the ‘70’s. His version rules, of course; little baby ducks will always and forever be superior to football and nasty sluts.
We finished off the day with karaoke and overpriced seafood at the Poseidon Lounge, which was right down the street from Buzzards Bay Park. It was just like being back at Embers. Everyone there knew each other except us, everyone sang country songs, and everyone was a damn redneck, despite being from New England. They even had their own version of Worm, some skinny, long-haired, tattooed roofer named Dickie who tunelessly hollared his way through a Doors song and and some C & W song that he directed lecherously toward the dj’s underaged daughter. From what little bit I witnessed, I was able to see that Dickie could be the greatest rock and roll stylist since Jerry Lee Lewis, or that guy from Monster Magnet.
It was last weekend, and we lived it like a champ. We drove down to the Cape (yes, that Cape), looking for fruit and tuxedos, and instead wound up at the Scallop Fest in downtown Bourne. A midway had been set up in Buzzards Bay Park, with all the thrilling games of chance and death-defying motorized amusements you would expect from any halfway decent county fair. We didn’t take a spin on any of the rides, though, ‘cuz I’m afraid of the Ferris Wheel, and the future missus is afraid of everything else. We did both agree on the little green alligator roller coaster, but unfortunately that ride was not designed to accommodate the physique of the modern adult. It was heartening to see that carnies look the same everywhere, however. The scallop dinner was expensive, and I can’t stand me no scallops anyhow, so we just ate a couple ears of native corn. We also got to enjoy an amazing musical performance from Earl Hamontree, a local accountant whose Casio-backed vocal renditions of Buffett and Motown covers are quite popular with those-in-the-know down in Bourne. We also walked around the “Professional Arts and Crafts” exhibit tent, where we learned that the manufacturing (or perhaps selling) of hot tubs and/or jacuzzis is apparently a professional art and/or craft. There were a number of professional authors on the premises, hoping to sell their inspirational Christmas local interest murder mystery children’s books to the fest-goers. One of them was polite enough to have a sign that let us know that a professional author was, indeed, on the premises. After inspecting the portojohns we decided to take leave from the Scallop Fest and hit up some of the local antique stores. As we were exiting, though, a giant cruise ship passed by on the canal that the park overlooked. It was the closest I’ve ever been to a cruise ship, and I was surprised at how massive it was. That was easily the biggest boat I’ve ever seen in my entire life, much bigger than my Uncle Bob’s old pontoon boat. Anyway, we had a good time in the hour or so that we were at the Scallop Fest, but as far as fairs go it was pretty lackluster. I know the North is different and all, but it was weird to go to a fair without an agricultural hall, and where everything wasn’t blanketed in the stench of cow and pig shit.
We hit up a couple of the junk shops across the street from the park before dinner. We found a couch for a hundred bucks that the lady would have picked up if we had had a truck big enough to get it home. Another store had tons of old postcards of various local attractions and buildings of note from around the country. They had one postcard with a church from Dalton on it, and several postcards from the early 1950’s festooned with drawings of the Bulldog Inn. We wound up buying a lot of records from that store, too; for $15 bucks we got ten lps and three cassettes, including stuff by Seger, Fleetwood Mac, Uriah Heap, Pearls Before Swine, Uncle Dave Macon, Dylan, and Bob Wills. We also got an old K-Tel compilation that has the Incredible Bongo Band’s “Bongo Song”, among others. Maybe I’m an idiot, but I had no idea that that damn Coors Light song was based on something Tom T. Hall did in the ‘70’s. His version rules, of course; little baby ducks will always and forever be superior to football and nasty sluts.
We finished off the day with karaoke and overpriced seafood at the Poseidon Lounge, which was right down the street from Buzzards Bay Park. It was just like being back at Embers. Everyone there knew each other except us, everyone sang country songs, and everyone was a damn redneck, despite being from New England. They even had their own version of Worm, some skinny, long-haired, tattooed roofer named Dickie who tunelessly hollared his way through a Doors song and and some C & W song that he directed lecherously toward the dj’s underaged daughter. From what little bit I witnessed, I was able to see that Dickie could be the greatest rock and roll stylist since Jerry Lee Lewis, or that guy from Monster Magnet.
