We invite those in the southern mini summit to post their current situation.
Friday, February 28, 2020
Dueling Mini Summits
As Brent Musburger would say... You are looking live at the Shaw neighborhood of Washington DC where a mini summit is in progress.
We invite those in the southern mini summit to post their current situation.
We invite those in the southern mini summit to post their current situation.
Friday Afternoon POTUS-Inspired Post: Waiting For a Miracle
The bloated Ooompa Loompa currently serving as our president is on the record saying he is hoping for a miracle to combat the coronavirus. Join the club, Donnie! Perhaps you can do a bit more than saying that and assigning a gay conversion therapy supporter to tackle it.
But in the interim, let's just wait for a miracle and focus on the impending weekend with Jerry.
Try to compartmentalize your angst and enjoy Friday, my friends. And while you're at it, fast-forward ~69 seconds for the tune to start.
But in the interim, let's just wait for a miracle and focus on the impending weekend with Jerry.
Try to compartmentalize your angst and enjoy Friday, my friends. And while you're at it, fast-forward ~69 seconds for the tune to start.
Disco Still Rules. Zoom!
I am on Instagram. Some of you are too. I use it mostly for amusement purposes. And for looking at sexy ladies. Don't tell the missus about that last part.
I mostly follow accounts that make me laugh. And I'm not picky about my laughs. I'll take them low-brow or high-brow. I mostly get them low-brow, from accounts like @joemande, @gymfailstories, @miserable_men, @kyledunnigan1, @festivalist, @kookslams, @failvibes, @ryanoflan and many others.
I follow @nickkroll on Instagram. He turned me on to a video that has wormed its way into my earholes and eyeballs in the last few days. It's a disco song/performance called Space Rescue by Zoom. They are Spanish. They perform what can best be described as cocaine-infused interpretations of disco music. Did I suck you in yet? Do you not believe me? Check out that video here. It's so awesome it's mesmerizing.
The choreography of that video blows me away. It seems to be the basis for the dance scene to Machine Gun in Boogie Nights, which is one of my favorite minutes in the history of cinema. Check it out right here!
The Zoom video and music also remind me of the performance part from the all-male synchronized swimming skit from SNL, which I put in my top 10 SNL skits of all time. Harry Shearer is an amazing straight man, Martin Short is at the peak of his warped powers here, and Christopher Guest shows what the next chapter of his career would be.
Happy Friday.
I mostly follow accounts that make me laugh. And I'm not picky about my laughs. I'll take them low-brow or high-brow. I mostly get them low-brow, from accounts like @joemande, @gymfailstories, @miserable_men, @kyledunnigan1, @festivalist, @kookslams, @failvibes, @ryanoflan and many others.
I follow @nickkroll on Instagram. He turned me on to a video that has wormed its way into my earholes and eyeballs in the last few days. It's a disco song/performance called Space Rescue by Zoom. They are Spanish. They perform what can best be described as cocaine-infused interpretations of disco music. Did I suck you in yet? Do you not believe me? Check out that video here. It's so awesome it's mesmerizing.
The Zoom video and music also remind me of the performance part from the all-male synchronized swimming skit from SNL, which I put in my top 10 SNL skits of all time. Harry Shearer is an amazing straight man, Martin Short is at the peak of his warped powers here, and Christopher Guest shows what the next chapter of his career would be.
Happy Friday.
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
1 > 0
Sometimes it's simply lightning in a bottle, never before and never since replicated.
In late 1993, Capitol Records released an album by a relatively unknown Santa Monica act. Something called Mazzy Star. A few years prior, the band had put out a single record on Rough Trade -- the label best known for The Smiths. It was called She Hangs Brightly and was most famous for making Kurt Cobain's list of Nirvana's 50 favorite albums. AllMusic, my go-to review staple for two decades and counting, had this to say: "...the album quickly loses focus, and even the group's solid grasp of atmosphere and texture can't overcome the songs' distinctly unmemorable melodies."
I'm listening to it now on Spotify. A lilting VU-ish opening track, then a very alt-90's grit-guitar cover, and then . . . what he said.
There wasn't a lot of indication that anyone had excessive optimism for So Tonight That I Might See.
Well, surely there was some within the band, especially when the singer's name was Hope. Hope Sandoval, a slinky, breathy vocalist and lyricist from SoCal was 27. Her creative partner was David Roback, 35, and he handled the guitars, keys, and musical composition. From photographs taken of Roback around then, I'd say he was the uncomfortable, stay-in-the-background, musical brains of the operation. Circa '93, none of this exuded "chart-topping."
It's such a simple song, the album opener from that sophomore effort. The chords are so simple that I can play it.
Seriously. The drummer had to have nearly fallen asleep. Maybe the tambourine kept him awake. The bass is barely audible. The piano is... nice. But the slide guitar is actually pretty great.
And her voice . . . yes.
Anyway, "Fade Into You" was the first song on So Tonight That I Might See. It's now called a "fluke hit" or at the very least a "surprise hit." And I didn't even see it coming. But it's a damn fine song. And a whole lotta people thought so.
I first heard it on 99.1 WHFS, thanks to DJ's like Rob Timm and Aq and Kath. Good days of radio in DC. I bought it on CD -- no, not the album, but on a compilation I found in a used bin in CD Cellar or somewhere in Arlington. It was a Spin Magazine promo item called Spin This V (as in 5), and it had a handful of unsung gems. I wore it out.
"Fade Into You" was everywhere on MTV, VH-1, and all the channels that used to exist and play videos and now don't exist or don't play videos. It was on HFS and DC101. Its chill-very-chill nature landed it on some "adult contemporary" stations. Rob's and my roommate The Spoid bought the whole album, and nestled it neatly between his copies of Eat a Peach and "Macarena." It seemed to be everywhere.
It was a full-fledged hit.
As it turns out, the rest of the album was not exactly head and shoulders above its predecessor. There are what sounds like some throwaway stabs at PJ Harvey and My Bloody Valentine, as well as some proto-Courtney Love. Alrighty then. Beyond Track 1 on So Tonight That I Might See, you likely never heard it.
A subsequent album appeared in 1996 for a tepid minute. It had a "Fade Into You" soundalike. You likely never heard it.
20 years after So Tonight That I Might See, Sandoval and Roback released one final Mazzy Star record. You likely never heard it. The arc of Hope Sandoval, the bright light of 1994, faded like that of her cousin Pablo 20 years later.
David Roback died yesterday at age 61. No cause has been announced.
Mazzy Star inexorably finds itself in the oft-maligned category of "One-Hit Wonders." I'd love to argue differently about their inclusion . . . hell, I'm such a music dork that have a contrarian Spotify playlist entitled Not One-Hit Wonders. But Mazzy Star isn't in it.
I do contend that such a label shouldn't be a derogatory epithet. The difference between no hits and one hit is way, way, way more than one (1). It's a bazillion. I'm writing and recording songs on my 3rd floor (Les Coole Studios). None will ever be hits and that's not why I'm doing it, but I marvel at the notion that a few folks sat down in some studio somewhere and cranked out something that became as pleasing to the ears of a million or more people as "Fade Into You."
So if an artist can't come back for a second helping of that caliber of success, that's no sin. Sometimes it was simply lightning in a bottle.
And if any of you out there never knew this song, I guess I'd just say . . .
In late 1993, Capitol Records released an album by a relatively unknown Santa Monica act. Something called Mazzy Star. A few years prior, the band had put out a single record on Rough Trade -- the label best known for The Smiths. It was called She Hangs Brightly and was most famous for making Kurt Cobain's list of Nirvana's 50 favorite albums. AllMusic, my go-to review staple for two decades and counting, had this to say: "...the album quickly loses focus, and even the group's solid grasp of atmosphere and texture can't overcome the songs' distinctly unmemorable melodies."
 |
| Hope for all of us |
I'm listening to it now on Spotify. A lilting VU-ish opening track, then a very alt-90's grit-guitar cover, and then . . . what he said.
There wasn't a lot of indication that anyone had excessive optimism for So Tonight That I Might See.
Well, surely there was some within the band, especially when the singer's name was Hope. Hope Sandoval, a slinky, breathy vocalist and lyricist from SoCal was 27. Her creative partner was David Roback, 35, and he handled the guitars, keys, and musical composition. From photographs taken of Roback around then, I'd say he was the uncomfortable, stay-in-the-background, musical brains of the operation. Circa '93, none of this exuded "chart-topping."
It's such a simple song, the album opener from that sophomore effort. The chords are so simple that I can play it.
Verse
A E Bm
A E Bm
A E Bm
A E Bm
Chorus
A E Bm
A E Bm
A E Bm D
A E Bm
Seriously. The drummer had to have nearly fallen asleep. Maybe the tambourine kept him awake. The bass is barely audible. The piano is... nice. But the slide guitar is actually pretty great.
And her voice . . . yes.
Anyway, "Fade Into You" was the first song on So Tonight That I Might See. It's now called a "fluke hit" or at the very least a "surprise hit." And I didn't even see it coming. But it's a damn fine song. And a whole lotta people thought so.I first heard it on 99.1 WHFS, thanks to DJ's like Rob Timm and Aq and Kath. Good days of radio in DC. I bought it on CD -- no, not the album, but on a compilation I found in a used bin in CD Cellar or somewhere in Arlington. It was a Spin Magazine promo item called Spin This V (as in 5), and it had a handful of unsung gems. I wore it out.
"Fade Into You" was everywhere on MTV, VH-1, and all the channels that used to exist and play videos and now don't exist or don't play videos. It was on HFS and DC101. Its chill-very-chill nature landed it on some "adult contemporary" stations. Rob's and my roommate The Spoid bought the whole album, and nestled it neatly between his copies of Eat a Peach and "Macarena." It seemed to be everywhere.
It was a full-fledged hit.
A subsequent album appeared in 1996 for a tepid minute. It had a "Fade Into You" soundalike. You likely never heard it.
20 years after So Tonight That I Might See, Sandoval and Roback released one final Mazzy Star record. You likely never heard it. The arc of Hope Sandoval, the bright light of 1994, faded like that of her cousin Pablo 20 years later.
David Roback died yesterday at age 61. No cause has been announced.
Mazzy Star inexorably finds itself in the oft-maligned category of "One-Hit Wonders." I'd love to argue differently about their inclusion . . . hell, I'm such a music dork that have a contrarian Spotify playlist entitled Not One-Hit Wonders. But Mazzy Star isn't in it.
I do contend that such a label shouldn't be a derogatory epithet. The difference between no hits and one hit is way, way, way more than one (1). It's a bazillion. I'm writing and recording songs on my 3rd floor (Les Coole Studios). None will ever be hits and that's not why I'm doing it, but I marvel at the notion that a few folks sat down in some studio somewhere and cranked out something that became as pleasing to the ears of a million or more people as "Fade Into You."
J Mascis was one of those million.
So if an artist can't come back for a second helping of that caliber of success, that's no sin. Sometimes it was simply lightning in a bottle.
And if any of you out there never knew this song, I guess I'd just say . . .
I think it's strange you never knew . . .
Tuesday, February 25, 2020
Keeping Pace
Working on some actual content, but 'til then I feel obligated to live up to Coach Whitney's exhortations regarding the volume of our 2020 posts. If we're all gonna die, we're gonna go out working hard at our craft.
And so here's the newest Best Coast single. It's got a Joan Jett vibe. Which is pretty bitchin'.
And so here's the newest Best Coast single. It's got a Joan Jett vibe. Which is pretty bitchin'.
Sunday, February 23, 2020
Gheorghe Explains the 2020 Democratic Primary
It's been a while since Gheorghe explained the election. Here are many hot takes on the 2020 Democratic primary broken down by candidate.
**********************************************
The candidate: Bernie Sanders
His campaign in a sentence: free healthcare, free medicine, free college, free citizenship, and a union card for everyone
His campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people who don’t have and can’t afford the aforementioned stuff
Disliked by: people who have the aforementioned stuff and don’t want to have to pay for other people to get it
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Bolshevik Bernie; Bernie Panders
How Trump will beat him: Trump will terrify many people with rants about socialism and communism and how Bernie will destroy the "big beautiful economy" Trump alleges to have built. Trump will run this video again and again and again:
Parenthetically, Bernie Sanders was 46 years old in 1988 yet he looked 78. We should all feel better about ourselves, or at least our appearances relative to middle-aged Bernie.
Trump will also yell words like "Sandinistas" and "Oretega" and "Castro" not only because Bernie backed them, but because it will tie him to Latin America and thus further enrage Trump's xenophobic base. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Pete Buttigieg
His campaign in a sentence: I am more intelligent and poised than your other options
His campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people who look at him and are reminded of the aloof but still likable valedictorian of their elite undergraduate university
Disliked by: people who did not go to an elite undergraduate university; people who went to an elite undergraduate university and did not find their aloof valedictorian to be likable
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Gayor Pete; some bad pun involving “Butt”
How Trump will beat him: This will be ugly. Trump unabashedly ran on racism and xenophobia in 2016. If Buttigieg gets the nomination Trump will expand his platform to include homophobia. Trump will say things like “Can you imagine this guy negotiating with Putin? Vlad would have his way with him! And you know what, Pete would like that!” Or “Kim Jong-Un would have Pete on his knees in seconds [waits a beat] and Pete is probably looking forward to it!” Buttigieg’s military service will carry no weight. GHW Bush, Bob Dole, John Kerry, and John McCain were all decorated combat veterans. All but Bush earned a Purple Heart. They also all lost presidential elections. No one cares about military service anymore. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Mike Bloomberg
His campaign in a sentence: I can beat Trump because I’m a New Yorker; also, I have $61 billion with which to bludgeon you into voting for me
His campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people who have been bludgeoned into submission by $61 billion worth of advertising; people from the New York area who work in the financial services industry; people who think it takes a thief to catch a thief
Disliked by: people who don’t want to see another egomaniacal New York billionaire with no real party affiliation buy the presidency; people who look at Bloomberg’s record of mistreating minorities and women and see a bizarro Trump
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Stop N Frisk Mike; Mikey NDA
How Trump will beat him: Trump will gaslight voters (again) into thinking that Bloomberg will be “a disaster” for minorities and women, while Trump will be their champion. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Joe Biden
His campaign in a sentence: I was Barack Obama’s VP!
His campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people with little imagination
Disliked by: people who look at Biden and see a very old man who may be in cognitive decline
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Dopey Joe, Slidin’ Biden
How Trump will beat him: Trump will gaslight voters (again) into thinking that Obama (and thus Biden) destroyed the economy while Trump unleashed it like the Kraken. Then he will sit back while Biden says and does stupid shit and shoots himself in the foot. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Amy Klobuchar
Her campaign in a sentence: I'm a nice midwesterner with a record of centrism and electability so you should like me, please please like me
Her campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: Does anyone really affirmatively like her?
Disliked by: Does anyone really affirmatively dislike her?
Trump’s nickname if she gets the nomination: Shaky Amy
How Trump will beat her: In an early debate zdaughter turned to me and asked about Klobuchar "Why is she so shaky?" It's a good question. Maybe she's nervous, maybe she has a neurological issue, maybe she uses too much hairspray. All I know is it's a weakness so apparent my 5-year-old saw it so Trump will pounce on it and exploit it for all it's worth. He will say a bunch of misogynistic stuff too. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Elizabeth Warren
Her campaign in a sentence: I have a pompous lecture for every issue
Her campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people who enjoy pompous lectures
Disliked by: people who don’t like to be lectured
Trump’s nickname if she gets the nomination: Pocahontas, Lyin' Lizzie
How Trump will beat her: His answer to every debate question will be “She lied about her race to get ahead!” or he’ll just yell “Pocahontas!” over and over. Candidly I have no idea how Warren has skated on this issue for so long. I think it’s an egregious misrepresentation. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
You know who the best candidate was on paper?
The candidate: Cory Booker
What his campaign should have been in a sentence: I have an Ivy League degree and a Rhodes scholarship like Pete, mayoral experience like Pete and Mike and Bernie, senatorial experience like Joe and Bernie and Amy and Liz, a progressive record on guns and the environment, a pro-business record when it comes to the economy, a realistic healthcare plan, and I know how to relate to minority voters because I really am a minority; also, I played Pac-10 football, I'm dating Rosario Dawson, and Trump can't pull his "I'm more manly than you" bully bullshit with me because I'm bigger and stronger and much younger than him and I would absolutely fuck him up if he stepped to me.
What his campaign should have been in a GIF:
Liked by: apparently no one
Disliked by: I don't know anyone who affirmatively dislikes him
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Cory Crooker in an attempt to tie him to corruption in Newark
How Trump will beat him: He already did.
**********************************************
Ultimately I really truly believe that Trump will lose in November no matter his opponent. Despite all my foregoing snark, I think that voters will be highly motivated in PA, WI, OH, and MI (which appear to be the only states that matter because they are the only ones that could go either way) and I have to imagine that they are picking up what the Democrats are putting down, namely lots of free stuff, income equality, a return to sanity and normalcy, etc. Trump ran on populism but it isn't clear to me that these four states are any better off than they were in 2016, and Bloomberg and Steyer will hopefully dip deeply into their fortunes to get the vote out. So keep your chins up!
**********************************************
The candidate: Bernie Sanders
His campaign in a sentence: free healthcare, free medicine, free college, free citizenship, and a union card for everyone
His campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people who don’t have and can’t afford the aforementioned stuff
Disliked by: people who have the aforementioned stuff and don’t want to have to pay for other people to get it
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Bolshevik Bernie; Bernie Panders
How Trump will beat him: Trump will terrify many people with rants about socialism and communism and how Bernie will destroy the "big beautiful economy" Trump alleges to have built. Trump will run this video again and again and again:
Parenthetically, Bernie Sanders was 46 years old in 1988 yet he looked 78. We should all feel better about ourselves, or at least our appearances relative to middle-aged Bernie.
Trump will also yell words like "Sandinistas" and "Oretega" and "Castro" not only because Bernie backed them, but because it will tie him to Latin America and thus further enrage Trump's xenophobic base. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Pete Buttigieg
His campaign in a sentence: I am more intelligent and poised than your other options
His campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people who look at him and are reminded of the aloof but still likable valedictorian of their elite undergraduate university
Disliked by: people who did not go to an elite undergraduate university; people who went to an elite undergraduate university and did not find their aloof valedictorian to be likable
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Gayor Pete; some bad pun involving “Butt”
How Trump will beat him: This will be ugly. Trump unabashedly ran on racism and xenophobia in 2016. If Buttigieg gets the nomination Trump will expand his platform to include homophobia. Trump will say things like “Can you imagine this guy negotiating with Putin? Vlad would have his way with him! And you know what, Pete would like that!” Or “Kim Jong-Un would have Pete on his knees in seconds [waits a beat] and Pete is probably looking forward to it!” Buttigieg’s military service will carry no weight. GHW Bush, Bob Dole, John Kerry, and John McCain were all decorated combat veterans. All but Bush earned a Purple Heart. They also all lost presidential elections. No one cares about military service anymore. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Mike Bloomberg
His campaign in a sentence: I can beat Trump because I’m a New Yorker; also, I have $61 billion with which to bludgeon you into voting for me
His campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people who have been bludgeoned into submission by $61 billion worth of advertising; people from the New York area who work in the financial services industry; people who think it takes a thief to catch a thief
Disliked by: people who don’t want to see another egomaniacal New York billionaire with no real party affiliation buy the presidency; people who look at Bloomberg’s record of mistreating minorities and women and see a bizarro Trump
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Stop N Frisk Mike; Mikey NDA
How Trump will beat him: Trump will gaslight voters (again) into thinking that Bloomberg will be “a disaster” for minorities and women, while Trump will be their champion. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Joe Biden
His campaign in a sentence: I was Barack Obama’s VP!
His campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people with little imagination
Disliked by: people who look at Biden and see a very old man who may be in cognitive decline
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Dopey Joe, Slidin’ Biden
How Trump will beat him: Trump will gaslight voters (again) into thinking that Obama (and thus Biden) destroyed the economy while Trump unleashed it like the Kraken. Then he will sit back while Biden says and does stupid shit and shoots himself in the foot. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Amy Klobuchar
Her campaign in a sentence: I'm a nice midwesterner with a record of centrism and electability so you should like me, please please like me
Her campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: Does anyone really affirmatively like her?
Disliked by: Does anyone really affirmatively dislike her?
Trump’s nickname if she gets the nomination: Shaky Amy
How Trump will beat her: In an early debate zdaughter turned to me and asked about Klobuchar "Why is she so shaky?" It's a good question. Maybe she's nervous, maybe she has a neurological issue, maybe she uses too much hairspray. All I know is it's a weakness so apparent my 5-year-old saw it so Trump will pounce on it and exploit it for all it's worth. He will say a bunch of misogynistic stuff too. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
The candidate: Elizabeth Warren
Her campaign in a sentence: I have a pompous lecture for every issue
Her campaign in a GIF:
Liked by: people who enjoy pompous lectures
Disliked by: people who don’t like to be lectured
Trump’s nickname if she gets the nomination: Pocahontas, Lyin' Lizzie
How Trump will beat her: His answer to every debate question will be “She lied about her race to get ahead!” or he’ll just yell “Pocahontas!” over and over. Candidly I have no idea how Warren has skated on this issue for so long. I think it’s an egregious misrepresentation. Also, Putin will interfere on Trump’s behalf.
**********************************************
You know who the best candidate was on paper?
The candidate: Cory Booker
What his campaign should have been in a sentence: I have an Ivy League degree and a Rhodes scholarship like Pete, mayoral experience like Pete and Mike and Bernie, senatorial experience like Joe and Bernie and Amy and Liz, a progressive record on guns and the environment, a pro-business record when it comes to the economy, a realistic healthcare plan, and I know how to relate to minority voters because I really am a minority; also, I played Pac-10 football, I'm dating Rosario Dawson, and Trump can't pull his "I'm more manly than you" bully bullshit with me because I'm bigger and stronger and much younger than him and I would absolutely fuck him up if he stepped to me.
What his campaign should have been in a GIF:
Liked by: apparently no one
Disliked by: I don't know anyone who affirmatively dislikes him
Trump’s nickname if he gets the nomination: Cory Crooker in an attempt to tie him to corruption in Newark
How Trump will beat him: He already did.
**********************************************
Ultimately I really truly believe that Trump will lose in November no matter his opponent. Despite all my foregoing snark, I think that voters will be highly motivated in PA, WI, OH, and MI (which appear to be the only states that matter because they are the only ones that could go either way) and I have to imagine that they are picking up what the Democrats are putting down, namely lots of free stuff, income equality, a return to sanity and normalcy, etc. Trump ran on populism but it isn't clear to me that these four states are any better off than they were in 2016, and Bloomberg and Steyer will hopefully dip deeply into their fortunes to get the vote out. So keep your chins up!
Saturday, February 22, 2020
Dopplegang Gang
When last we checked in on the Teej's manifold personalities, he'd just released a new album. Talented, that dude. (I'd link to that post, but I can't find it. Bygones.)
This week brings news of another noteworthy achievement by our Doofus Overlord, in which he's become an overlord of a different sort. From Carlow Live near Dublin:
"Farmhand has appointed Carlow man TJ Doyle to its board of directors.
TJ has been appointed as technical director of Farmhand, the family-owned importer of Krone, Amazone, Quicke, Zuidberg and APV.
The Carlow native joined the company in 2008 as an area service manager and later became overall service manager where he has been instrumental in Farmhand's after sales professionalism."
Farmhand, for those not in the know, is a leading Irish distributor of heavy equipment used in, well, farming.
The news itself is worth celebrating. More so for our purposes, the glamour shot of our man Doyle:
I mean, this shit writes itself, no? Long lost...self?
Congrats, Teej. We're super proud of you. Hoping for some sweet combine action for my back 40.
This week brings news of another noteworthy achievement by our Doofus Overlord, in which he's become an overlord of a different sort. From Carlow Live near Dublin:
"Farmhand has appointed Carlow man TJ Doyle to its board of directors.
TJ has been appointed as technical director of Farmhand, the family-owned importer of Krone, Amazone, Quicke, Zuidberg and APV.
The Carlow native joined the company in 2008 as an area service manager and later became overall service manager where he has been instrumental in Farmhand's after sales professionalism."
Farmhand, for those not in the know, is a leading Irish distributor of heavy equipment used in, well, farming.
The news itself is worth celebrating. More so for our purposes, the glamour shot of our man Doyle:
I mean, this shit writes itself, no? Long lost...self?
Congrats, Teej. We're super proud of you. Hoping for some sweet combine action for my back 40.
Friday, February 21, 2020
High... Plains... Drifter
Play this while reading:
Now read:
The setting is Lago, a crappy little town filled with the worst kinds of people you could conjure. As the Boys would say, it's a nice place to visit but a better place to rob.
So you see, the greedy, me-first townspeople found out that the local marshal had made a tragic discovery. The nearby mine -- the town's solitary livelihood generator -- was actually on government property. Ruh-roh.
Cash flow gettin' low so they had to pull a job
Not just any job. Murder.
So basically, in order to tell the government and the outside world in general to perform the physical act of love on itself, and in order to keep this source of money that they had no inherent claim to . . . they will stoop to incredible depths to preserve their selfish goals.
Here's the thing. These gutless wonders didn't have the sand or sack to do it themselves. They hired the lowest slime on the planet to take care of the dirty business and preserve their crappy little lives. Sometimes people do that. You do what you think you have to do and you hold your nose when it comes to the moral implications.
Good luck with that.
So into this dusty, depraved town rides a Stranger. Not the kind of stranger you'd find in the works of Camus or Smith, Joel or Kipling, Seger, Salinger, Starship, or Supertramp, not in cautionary tales or onanistic deviance. This Stranger is Clint Eastwood. Clint 'twixt Dirty Harry and William Munny. Clint closer to Josey Wales. Clint, very bad man.
I feel that I'm getting pushed
Don't step to me 'cause you could be gettin' mushed
The Stranger is not the hero Lago deserves, but the one it needs right now. He's not even a hero. He's not even an antihero. He's evil. He's the devil. He's a vengeful spectre. He's a murderous rapist. And he's more than kind of a dick. Although he did appoint a tiny dictator.
When Jack said, "This town needs an enema," Lago needs one more than Gotham ever did, and The Stranger is that rectal bulb syringe.
So this fella pulls a Number 6 on Lago. You know, Number 6. He comes a-ridin' into town, a whoppin' and whumpin' every livin' thing that moves within an inch of its life. Except the women folks, of course. Wait, he does them, too.
Here's the wrinkle. After the townsfolk hired the slime to kill the marshal, they turned 'em in. But... whoops-a-daisy... someone up high pardoned 'em or commuted their sentences or what have you. And guess what? The dirtballs in question are now free, and chances are good that they won't exact their revenge on the people of Lago by tweeting hysterical hyperbole.
Pulled over to the river, to take a rest
Pulled out a pair of pliers pulled a bullet out of my chest
So the Stranger and the evil dimwit hired guns are set at odds. The thing is, there's more collateral damage than at a Steven King pie-eating contest. The real losers are, of course, the people of Lago. Not that they weren't losers to begin with, but yikes. This sucks even more than living in a remote western American town in eighteen-sump'n-sump'n already sucks.
So, herein lies the question for the ages. Did the arrival of the Stranger commence the final ruination of the already morally shaky place? Was he the lesson that fighting fire with fire will result in everyone and everything being charred remains?
Or... did he give the town its necessary enema, eradicating evil up and down and leaving Lago ready to rebuild anew on a better promise for tomorrow? They couldn't have gotten rid of the resident evil without him. They simply could not. And he did.
You tell me, gentle viewers.
The linkage is thinly veiled. I'm all for nominating the most moral and effective leader to run against Trump. In theory. Nominating another Walter Mondale or George McGovern-style historical footnote will allow everyone to hold their heads high for a brief, brief moment... before DJT disembowels the people and the planet for another 4 long ones.
There is a floor we should not sink beneath in the valiant pursuit of eviction, but the question is whether Bloomberg is below it. Right now I'm leaning toward The Stranger to clean some fucking house. He didn't do well the other night, but he may be our version of The Stranger.
The high... plains... drifter, and I'm the drifter
May God have mercy on our souls.
The setting is Lago, a crappy little town filled with the worst kinds of people you could conjure. As the Boys would say, it's a nice place to visit but a better place to rob.
So you see, the greedy, me-first townspeople found out that the local marshal had made a tragic discovery. The nearby mine -- the town's solitary livelihood generator -- was actually on government property. Ruh-roh.
Cash flow gettin' low so they had to pull a job
Not just any job. Murder.
So basically, in order to tell the government and the outside world in general to perform the physical act of love on itself, and in order to keep this source of money that they had no inherent claim to . . . they will stoop to incredible depths to preserve their selfish goals.
Here's the thing. These gutless wonders didn't have the sand or sack to do it themselves. They hired the lowest slime on the planet to take care of the dirty business and preserve their crappy little lives. Sometimes people do that. You do what you think you have to do and you hold your nose when it comes to the moral implications.
Good luck with that.
So into this dusty, depraved town rides a Stranger. Not the kind of stranger you'd find in the works of Camus or Smith, Joel or Kipling, Seger, Salinger, Starship, or Supertramp, not in cautionary tales or onanistic deviance. This Stranger is Clint Eastwood. Clint 'twixt Dirty Harry and William Munny. Clint closer to Josey Wales. Clint, very bad man.
I feel that I'm getting pushed
 |
| Whitney and Rob, 1883 |
The Stranger is not the hero Lago deserves, but the one it needs right now. He's not even a hero. He's not even an antihero. He's evil. He's the devil. He's a vengeful spectre. He's a murderous rapist. And he's more than kind of a dick. Although he did appoint a tiny dictator.
When Jack said, "This town needs an enema," Lago needs one more than Gotham ever did, and The Stranger is that rectal bulb syringe.
So this fella pulls a Number 6 on Lago. You know, Number 6. He comes a-ridin' into town, a whoppin' and whumpin' every livin' thing that moves within an inch of its life. Except the women folks, of course. Wait, he does them, too.
 |
| You don't mind him when he's like this. |
Pulled over to the river, to take a rest
Pulled out a pair of pliers pulled a bullet out of my chest
 |
| You'd better run when he looks like this. |
You wind up finding exactly where these folks find themselves living.
So, herein lies the question for the ages. Did the arrival of the Stranger commence the final ruination of the already morally shaky place? Was he the lesson that fighting fire with fire will result in everyone and everything being charred remains?
Or... did he give the town its necessary enema, eradicating evil up and down and leaving Lago ready to rebuild anew on a better promise for tomorrow? They couldn't have gotten rid of the resident evil without him. They simply could not. And he did.
You tell me, gentle viewers.
The linkage is thinly veiled. I'm all for nominating the most moral and effective leader to run against Trump. In theory. Nominating another Walter Mondale or George McGovern-style historical footnote will allow everyone to hold their heads high for a brief, brief moment... before DJT disembowels the people and the planet for another 4 long ones.
There is a floor we should not sink beneath in the valiant pursuit of eviction, but the question is whether Bloomberg is below it. Right now I'm leaning toward The Stranger to clean some fucking house. He didn't do well the other night, but he may be our version of The Stranger.
Sarah Belding: Be careful. You're a man who makes people afraid, and that's dangerous.'Cause I'm the high... plains... drifter, and I'm the drifter
The Stranger: Well, it's what people know about themselves inside that makes 'em afraid.
The high... plains... drifter, and I'm the drifter
May God have mercy on our souls.
Thursday, February 20, 2020
Better Angels > Shittier Devils
Courtesy of our man in the Outer Banks, a dose of optimism at a time where that particular emotion comes in short supply. It's a nice thought, in any case.
We live in turbulent times. The Big Cantaloupe in the White House shreds norms daily and governs to feed his ego and his wallet. Income inequality grows. Divisions abound. One major political party has chosen power over principle. The other regularly sticks screwdrivers into electrical outlets. Of course, it all may be moot, as a disease that sounds like a euphemism for a hangover may thin the herd considerably.
But I bring encouraging words. Not from me. My life advice pretty much consists of: be kind; stretch and hydrate; get some sleep. No, these are from Jon Meacham, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and historian. He wrote a book a couple of years back titled The Soul of America, and sub-titled The Battle For Our Better Angels – a nod to Lincoln’s remarks about “the better angels of our nature.” It’s a more eloquent way of saying, “Folks, if you think it’s bad now, we’ve had it worse and somehow made it through.”
Or to put it in Meacham’s words, the book is “a portrait of hours in which the politics of fear were prevalent – a reminder that periods of public dispiritedness are not new and a reassurance that they are survivable.”
Meacham examines different periods of our nation’s existence in the past 160 years: Reconstruction and the rise of the Lost Cause narrative; the decades-long fight for women’s suffrage; the re-emergence of the Ku Klux Klan and Red Scare in the 1920s; the Great Depression; McCarthyism and the Communist scare of the 1950s; the struggle for Civil Rights in the 1950s and ‘60s. The book grew out of an essay that Meacham was asked to write for Time mag in the aftermath of the white supremacist/neo-Nazi assembly in Charlottesville in 2017 in which a woman named Heather Heyer was killed, and President “Very Fine People on Both Sides” made a hash of the entire ordeal.
The book isn’t as imposing as it appears, at least in hardcover. It’s 400-plus pages, but 130 of them are footnotes and attribution. He refers often to the speeches and writings of former presidents. Brief observation: dear lord, even if you didn’t agree with their politics, nearly all of them, or their speechwriters, were remarkably eloquent.
Presidents at times acted nobly during challenging periods, but also reacted to social movement from below. Though opposed to slavery, Lincoln grappled with what to do once it ended, including sending black people back to Africa. Woodrow Wilson was disinterested in, if not downright dismissive of, the women’s voting movement early in his presidency before signing off on it later. Franklin Roosevelt came from a privileged background, but became a champion of the working man and steered the country away from the nationalist fervor that took hold in Europe and produced the likes of Hitler and Mussolini. Harry Truman descended from slaveowners and was openly racist early in adult life, but desegregated the military and the government workforce because he felt for both the underdog and those who fought for the country. Lyndon Johnson came from a segregationist upbringing to push through sweeping Civil Rights legislation because he believed it the right thing to do.
Few believe our current president capable of acting beyond his own self-interest. His own party has shown little inclination to hold him accountable. Which brings us to the end of Meacham’s book, where he offers advice. Among his recommendations: enter the arena, which is to say, pay attention and vote; resist tribalism, as little is accomplished or endures by one group acting alone; respect facts and deploy reason, which seems self-explanatory, but is becoming increasingly difficult; find a critical balance. By that, he means, “Being informed is more than knowing details and arguments. It also entails being humble enough to recognize that only on the rarest of occasions does any single camp have a monopoly on virtue or wisdom.” His last recommendation is, keep history in mind, as it provides, if not a guide, at least perspective beyond the here and now.
Meacham concluded: “For all our darker impulses, for all of our shortcomings, and for all the dreams denied and deferred, the experiment begun so long ago, carried out so imperfectly, is worth the fight. There is, in fact, no struggle more important, and none nobler, than the one we wage in the service of those better angels who, however besieged, are always ready for battle.”
We live in turbulent times. The Big Cantaloupe in the White House shreds norms daily and governs to feed his ego and his wallet. Income inequality grows. Divisions abound. One major political party has chosen power over principle. The other regularly sticks screwdrivers into electrical outlets. Of course, it all may be moot, as a disease that sounds like a euphemism for a hangover may thin the herd considerably.But I bring encouraging words. Not from me. My life advice pretty much consists of: be kind; stretch and hydrate; get some sleep. No, these are from Jon Meacham, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and historian. He wrote a book a couple of years back titled The Soul of America, and sub-titled The Battle For Our Better Angels – a nod to Lincoln’s remarks about “the better angels of our nature.” It’s a more eloquent way of saying, “Folks, if you think it’s bad now, we’ve had it worse and somehow made it through.”
Or to put it in Meacham’s words, the book is “a portrait of hours in which the politics of fear were prevalent – a reminder that periods of public dispiritedness are not new and a reassurance that they are survivable.”
Meacham examines different periods of our nation’s existence in the past 160 years: Reconstruction and the rise of the Lost Cause narrative; the decades-long fight for women’s suffrage; the re-emergence of the Ku Klux Klan and Red Scare in the 1920s; the Great Depression; McCarthyism and the Communist scare of the 1950s; the struggle for Civil Rights in the 1950s and ‘60s. The book grew out of an essay that Meacham was asked to write for Time mag in the aftermath of the white supremacist/neo-Nazi assembly in Charlottesville in 2017 in which a woman named Heather Heyer was killed, and President “Very Fine People on Both Sides” made a hash of the entire ordeal.The book isn’t as imposing as it appears, at least in hardcover. It’s 400-plus pages, but 130 of them are footnotes and attribution. He refers often to the speeches and writings of former presidents. Brief observation: dear lord, even if you didn’t agree with their politics, nearly all of them, or their speechwriters, were remarkably eloquent.
Presidents at times acted nobly during challenging periods, but also reacted to social movement from below. Though opposed to slavery, Lincoln grappled with what to do once it ended, including sending black people back to Africa. Woodrow Wilson was disinterested in, if not downright dismissive of, the women’s voting movement early in his presidency before signing off on it later. Franklin Roosevelt came from a privileged background, but became a champion of the working man and steered the country away from the nationalist fervor that took hold in Europe and produced the likes of Hitler and Mussolini. Harry Truman descended from slaveowners and was openly racist early in adult life, but desegregated the military and the government workforce because he felt for both the underdog and those who fought for the country. Lyndon Johnson came from a segregationist upbringing to push through sweeping Civil Rights legislation because he believed it the right thing to do.
Few believe our current president capable of acting beyond his own self-interest. His own party has shown little inclination to hold him accountable. Which brings us to the end of Meacham’s book, where he offers advice. Among his recommendations: enter the arena, which is to say, pay attention and vote; resist tribalism, as little is accomplished or endures by one group acting alone; respect facts and deploy reason, which seems self-explanatory, but is becoming increasingly difficult; find a critical balance. By that, he means, “Being informed is more than knowing details and arguments. It also entails being humble enough to recognize that only on the rarest of occasions does any single camp have a monopoly on virtue or wisdom.” His last recommendation is, keep history in mind, as it provides, if not a guide, at least perspective beyond the here and now.Meacham concluded: “For all our darker impulses, for all of our shortcomings, and for all the dreams denied and deferred, the experiment begun so long ago, carried out so imperfectly, is worth the fight. There is, in fact, no struggle more important, and none nobler, than the one we wage in the service of those better angels who, however besieged, are always ready for battle.”
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
Once Were Brothers
I love The Band. I was late to dig into them. I didn't fully appreciate them until my mid 20's. The Dylan link, the Americana sound (despite having a couple Canadian members), the tragedy involved with the members, the drugs, the booze. It all contributed to epic music, if not long, healthy lives.
My wife and I have watched The Last Waltz numerous times. It's epic on a number of levels. Neil Diamond! Neil Young! Dylan! Scorcese! My wife has admitted she has (had?) a big crush on Rick Danko. We almost named our dog Danko. He's that cool.
But we never considered naming our dog after Robbie Robertson. His role in that band is more suspect. When the band splintered, almost all members disliked him, probably due to him having most of the songwriting credits. Robbie's vibe can be summed up in the title to a new documentary on The Band that is coming out on February 21. It's called "Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and The Band." I haven't investigated enough to figure out why he needs to put his name above the name of his band. Maybe it's because this doc is his baby. Most members are dead, so they won't complain. Only Garth Hudson is still alive, and he's 82.
Regardless of what you think of Robbie, a good doc on The Band is well worth your time. Trailer is below. It hits some theaters on 2/21, and it will hopefully hit a streaming service shortly thereafter.
Tuesday, February 18, 2020
What Car Should A Gheorghie Drive: Mark Edition
WCSAGD is back like cooked crack, this time with Mark’s car.
Mark really exists. I know this because I saw him once over a few beers in Manhattan. But that’s the entirety of my in-person experience with him. Everything else I know about him I learned on the internet (in particular, on this blog).
Mark is different from the rest of the knuckleheads who hang out in this space. In some ways it’s almost like he’s from another planet. He has lots of tattoos and pit bulls. He gets all of my hiphop references and makes some that I don’t get. He gets all of my sneaker references and owns many more pairs than I do—he likely owns several pairs of Foamposits. He probably saw “Doo Doo Brown” performed live multiple times. He has the shaved-head-and-a-beard look and he rocks it. It just works.
He’s also more athletic than the rest of us. He played college basketball and still plays competitively. That said, he’s relatively short. So he’s sporty and compact.
Mark is the only Gheorghie who could plausibly be a character in a Fast and Furious movie.
Mark should drive a 1991 Nissan Skyline GT-R in gunmetal gray.
The Nissan Skyline GT-R is one of, if not the, most sought-after Japan domestic market (“JDM”) cars among US JDM fanboys. Like most muscle cars, the Skyline started out as a relatively benign automobile. Then, in 1969, Nissan dropped a 2.0 liter straight-six engine in it and added the GT-R badge. The result was a dragstrip legend in Japan. This carried on for four years.
Nissan resurrected the GT-R badge in 1989 and affixed it to what Fast and Furious types call the R32. It had all wheel drive, a twin-turbo straight-six, 276 horsepower, flared fenders, and a don't-fuck-with-me stance that induced lust in a certain demographic of car fanciers. It is extreme. The R32 was manufactured through 1994 but never imported into North America, and was only available in right-hand drive.
Thus a generation of car fans could only read about these beasts online. Sort of like Mark, until I met him.
You're allowed to import cars that were never cleared for registration in the US once they are 25 years old, so any GT-R manufactured before February 1995 is currently fair game. This means you can import some of the second generation GT-Rs, which is the R33. They are very cool too but despite being the youngest Gheorghie Mark is more of an old school guy.
My stance on car colors is well documented (black, white and gray are not real car colors) but 88% of all R32s manufactured are black, white or gray, so I chose gray here. Besides, this car has enough of a WTF factor with the steering wheel on the wrong side that it doesn't need any more pizzazz. If anything, the gunmetal paint makes it look slightly dangerous, like something a Bond villain would drive and that seems to be pretty on-brand for Mark. Like Mark, this one was registered in Florida.
Anyone who knows what this is will go bonkers when they see it. I know I did--I saw one once in Japan and it was cool as hell. I did not go bonkers the one time I saw Mark but it was a very cool mini summit.
Predictably, there are a number of places to buy these in the US now. Bringatrailer often has one up for auction. Japanese Classics in Richmond is a fun website to peruse, as is Duncan Imports outside of Roanoke, which I mentioned here previously. You can also buy them from Japan and have them imported here, but that seems dicier to me (good luck recovering you money if you don't get what you paid for).
You used to be able to get these for $20k to $25k but most of the crispy unmolested specimens have been plucked from Japan, leaving mostly heavily modified drift cars and dragsters to choose from. As a result the price for a clean original car is now over $30k and can easily get to $50k for a low-mileage car with full documentation. Much like Mark, these things get more valuable with age.
The R32 is a small, sporty, powerful car that doesn't look like anything else on the road. It is almost impossible to see one in regular driving--they're unique. They were frighteningly new school when they came out, but now they're old and looked upon with nostalgia, but they are still bad-ass. And they'll always be cool.
That's what Mark should drive.
Mark really exists. I know this because I saw him once over a few beers in Manhattan. But that’s the entirety of my in-person experience with him. Everything else I know about him I learned on the internet (in particular, on this blog).
Mark is different from the rest of the knuckleheads who hang out in this space. In some ways it’s almost like he’s from another planet. He has lots of tattoos and pit bulls. He gets all of my hiphop references and makes some that I don’t get. He gets all of my sneaker references and owns many more pairs than I do—he likely owns several pairs of Foamposits. He probably saw “Doo Doo Brown” performed live multiple times. He has the shaved-head-and-a-beard look and he rocks it. It just works.
He’s also more athletic than the rest of us. He played college basketball and still plays competitively. That said, he’s relatively short. So he’s sporty and compact.
Mark is the only Gheorghie who could plausibly be a character in a Fast and Furious movie.
Mark should drive a 1991 Nissan Skyline GT-R in gunmetal gray.
The Nissan Skyline GT-R is one of, if not the, most sought-after Japan domestic market (“JDM”) cars among US JDM fanboys. Like most muscle cars, the Skyline started out as a relatively benign automobile. Then, in 1969, Nissan dropped a 2.0 liter straight-six engine in it and added the GT-R badge. The result was a dragstrip legend in Japan. This carried on for four years.
Nissan resurrected the GT-R badge in 1989 and affixed it to what Fast and Furious types call the R32. It had all wheel drive, a twin-turbo straight-six, 276 horsepower, flared fenders, and a don't-fuck-with-me stance that induced lust in a certain demographic of car fanciers. It is extreme. The R32 was manufactured through 1994 but never imported into North America, and was only available in right-hand drive.
Thus a generation of car fans could only read about these beasts online. Sort of like Mark, until I met him.
You're allowed to import cars that were never cleared for registration in the US once they are 25 years old, so any GT-R manufactured before February 1995 is currently fair game. This means you can import some of the second generation GT-Rs, which is the R33. They are very cool too but despite being the youngest Gheorghie Mark is more of an old school guy.
My stance on car colors is well documented (black, white and gray are not real car colors) but 88% of all R32s manufactured are black, white or gray, so I chose gray here. Besides, this car has enough of a WTF factor with the steering wheel on the wrong side that it doesn't need any more pizzazz. If anything, the gunmetal paint makes it look slightly dangerous, like something a Bond villain would drive and that seems to be pretty on-brand for Mark. Like Mark, this one was registered in Florida.
Anyone who knows what this is will go bonkers when they see it. I know I did--I saw one once in Japan and it was cool as hell. I did not go bonkers the one time I saw Mark but it was a very cool mini summit.
Predictably, there are a number of places to buy these in the US now. Bringatrailer often has one up for auction. Japanese Classics in Richmond is a fun website to peruse, as is Duncan Imports outside of Roanoke, which I mentioned here previously. You can also buy them from Japan and have them imported here, but that seems dicier to me (good luck recovering you money if you don't get what you paid for).
You used to be able to get these for $20k to $25k but most of the crispy unmolested specimens have been plucked from Japan, leaving mostly heavily modified drift cars and dragsters to choose from. As a result the price for a clean original car is now over $30k and can easily get to $50k for a low-mileage car with full documentation. Much like Mark, these things get more valuable with age.
The R32 is a small, sporty, powerful car that doesn't look like anything else on the road. It is almost impossible to see one in regular driving--they're unique. They were frighteningly new school when they came out, but now they're old and looked upon with nostalgia, but they are still bad-ass. And they'll always be cool.
That's what Mark should drive.
Monday, February 17, 2020
This Week in Wrenball: The Reckoning
This is the first TWIW post in 2020, making this surely one of our least-productive seasons in terms of postcount. (Kindly refrain from commenting on how productive we are when we're actually posting a lot.) This lack of content does not reflect a diminished interest in the Wrens. I follow them as closely as I ever have, possible more. Rather, I haven't posted anything because I'm still wrestling with how to process this team, given everything that's happened in the program.
I want W&M to succeed. I want Dane Fischer to build on the fine start to his head coaching career. I want the kids to thrive.
I don't want Samantha Huge to be rewarded for the way she fired Tony Shaver.
And those are the dueling emotional states that have informed my interest in this most intriguing of seasons.
After starting 6-0 in league play, W&M stumbled a bit, losing five of their next seven games before
righting the ship and winning two in a row. The Tribe are now 18-10, 10-5 in the CAA, good for outright second place behind red-hot Hofstra. They'll be favored in each of their final three games (at Towson and Elon, and home against James Madison. The likely worst-case scenario for Fischer's team is a top-four seed in a CAA Tournament that promises to be wide open.
#1bid4wmtribe isn't necessarily likely, but it's a hell of a lot more possible than our early-season prognostication might've suggested. We didn't think they'd win 10 games after losing six of their top seven scorers from 2018-19 via graduation or transfer. Dane Fischer, it turns out, can coach.
The 39 year-old Fischer is calm, measured, and smart. He reminds me a lot of Brad Stevens on the sidelines. I've seen the Tribe play twice in person this season, the latter of those games from front-row seats, courtesy of W&M's athletic development staff. During that game, Samantha Huge sat down right next to me and spent about a half engaging with the high-dollar donors that also had seats in the area. She may have thought that I was one of those fancy types. Reader, I tell you that she is very invested in Fischer's success. I did not offer my opinion of the way the young coach got his job. Who do you think I am, Marls?
On the court, Fischer's team is winning through a combination of a very unique pair of lefty bigs, defensive effort that's not been the norm in Williamburg, and balance throughout the team after those twin towers.
6'10" senior Nathan Knight has made the list of the top 10 finalists for the Kareem Abdul Jabbar award given to the nation's top center. Knight is averaging 21.2 points and 10.9 rebounds per game. He leads the CAA with 1.4 blocks per contest. He's first in the nation in defensive rebounds with 228 (and fifth in overall rebounds), as well as Player Efficiency Rating.
Knight needs 108 points to become W&M's all-time leading scorer (he has at least four games left). He'll finish third all-time in rebounds, and second in blocks. It is possible - and increasingly logical - to argue that he's the best player in Tribe history. And if you know how I feel about Marcus Thornton (who's jersey was retired on Saturday), you'll know how blasphemous that sounds. But it's getting closer to true.
7'0" senior Andy Van Vliet (a lefthander like Knight), averages 13.5 points and 8.5 rebounds per game, and makes 36% of his threes (he's taken and made more than any other W&M player). Junior guard Luke Loewe averages 10.4 points per game and has proven to be a very effective on-ball defender. In two games against Charleston, Loewe held defending CAA Player of the Year and likely NBA draftee Grant Riller to 20 points on 6-21 shooting. Four other Tribe players are getting at least 4.4 points or 2.0 rebounds. They're all chipping in.
As always, the CAA Tournament will be a crapshoot. League leader Hofstra will deserve the top seed they'll likely get, and they beat W&M by 23 in Williamsburg a few months ago. But the Tribe beat them by 27 on Long Island in January. The Tribe have beaten every team that's beaten them in league play, other than Towson, and they'll get a chance to rectify that on Thursday.
This will be Dane Fischer's first trip through the postseason as the head man. The evidence suggests it won't fluster him. Seeing W&M get to the tournament final might fluster me, though.
I'd probably get over it.
I want W&M to succeed. I want Dane Fischer to build on the fine start to his head coaching career. I want the kids to thrive.
I don't want Samantha Huge to be rewarded for the way she fired Tony Shaver.
And those are the dueling emotional states that have informed my interest in this most intriguing of seasons.
After starting 6-0 in league play, W&M stumbled a bit, losing five of their next seven games before righting the ship and winning two in a row. The Tribe are now 18-10, 10-5 in the CAA, good for outright second place behind red-hot Hofstra. They'll be favored in each of their final three games (at Towson and Elon, and home against James Madison. The likely worst-case scenario for Fischer's team is a top-four seed in a CAA Tournament that promises to be wide open.
#1bid4wmtribe isn't necessarily likely, but it's a hell of a lot more possible than our early-season prognostication might've suggested. We didn't think they'd win 10 games after losing six of their top seven scorers from 2018-19 via graduation or transfer. Dane Fischer, it turns out, can coach.
The 39 year-old Fischer is calm, measured, and smart. He reminds me a lot of Brad Stevens on the sidelines. I've seen the Tribe play twice in person this season, the latter of those games from front-row seats, courtesy of W&M's athletic development staff. During that game, Samantha Huge sat down right next to me and spent about a half engaging with the high-dollar donors that also had seats in the area. She may have thought that I was one of those fancy types. Reader, I tell you that she is very invested in Fischer's success. I did not offer my opinion of the way the young coach got his job. Who do you think I am, Marls?
On the court, Fischer's team is winning through a combination of a very unique pair of lefty bigs, defensive effort that's not been the norm in Williamburg, and balance throughout the team after those twin towers.
Knight needs 108 points to become W&M's all-time leading scorer (he has at least four games left). He'll finish third all-time in rebounds, and second in blocks. It is possible - and increasingly logical - to argue that he's the best player in Tribe history. And if you know how I feel about Marcus Thornton (who's jersey was retired on Saturday), you'll know how blasphemous that sounds. But it's getting closer to true.
7'0" senior Andy Van Vliet (a lefthander like Knight), averages 13.5 points and 8.5 rebounds per game, and makes 36% of his threes (he's taken and made more than any other W&M player). Junior guard Luke Loewe averages 10.4 points per game and has proven to be a very effective on-ball defender. In two games against Charleston, Loewe held defending CAA Player of the Year and likely NBA draftee Grant Riller to 20 points on 6-21 shooting. Four other Tribe players are getting at least 4.4 points or 2.0 rebounds. They're all chipping in.
As always, the CAA Tournament will be a crapshoot. League leader Hofstra will deserve the top seed they'll likely get, and they beat W&M by 23 in Williamsburg a few months ago. But the Tribe beat them by 27 on Long Island in January. The Tribe have beaten every team that's beaten them in league play, other than Towson, and they'll get a chance to rectify that on Thursday.
This will be Dane Fischer's first trip through the postseason as the head man. The evidence suggests it won't fluster him. Seeing W&M get to the tournament final might fluster me, though.
I'd probably get over it.
Friday, February 14, 2020
I really want to stay in the Pitfall! suite
I've got travel on the mind, as my next fortnight is filled with trips to Vegas and Orlando for work. I really wish this Atari hotel was completed in one of those two cities, because, well, it would be fucking cool to stay in the Pong Penthouse.
I look forward to other 80s video game companies copying this format. Can anyone say Coleco Motel 6?
I look forward to other 80s video game companies copying this format. Can anyone say Coleco Motel 6?
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
Shosholoza
The word in the title of this post means 'Go Forward' in the Zulu language. Today, Ladysmith Black Mambazo founder Joseph Shabalala went forward into the great beyond, passing from this life. Personally, my interest in world music traces directly back to hearing Shabalala's group play with Paul Simon on 'Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes'.
So, for the great Joseph Shabalala, here's Ladysmith Black Mambazo doing Shosholoza:
So, for the great Joseph Shabalala, here's Ladysmith Black Mambazo doing Shosholoza:
Monday, February 10, 2020
Promoting a Comment to a Post
FOGTB and 1989 Monroe Dormitory denizen Donna dropped a comment about David Teel's last official column for the newsprint conglomerate that has come to be down here in Southeastern Virginia. It's a comment worth sending to The Show. It's a gheorghey sort of tale, and, of course, Postcount!
The link is here: After 36 years, it's time for this scribe to begin a new chapter
Subscribers to The Virginian-Pilot (like myself) and/or The Daily Press have seen a recurring segment this week in a story sadly destined to keep recurring: Farewell columns from a proud legion of journalists who go by names such as "keyboard jockeys," "The Sons of Smith Corona," or even "Remington Steel." Newshounds, hacks, and scriveners who write for a living.
As "write" continues to become "wrote," it's almost become . . . rote . . . (sorry) . . . for us to wax sadly indignant here at Gheorghe. But three things to note:
But here's the thing that gets me. Shirley Povich, iconic sports journalist extraordinaire for The Washington Post for 342 years, kept writing 'til the day he died in 1998. Here's a link to his final column, printed posthumously. Give it a quick read.
While I'm capable of burying a lede like a body in a back lot, I'll give you the takeaway: He was 92 and still had most of his fastball, plus maybe some Gaylord Perry / Amanda Whurlitzer special sauce. He might've been guilty of some old-man "they did it first (and, by the way, better) back in my day" barbs, he came by that pretty damn honestly. He was the only guy to cover the Mark McGwire's Ruthian assault on the record books who'd actually covered Babe Ruth as a sportswriter. Yeah, okay. Let's just hear the man out.
Here's a morsel:
Anyway, G:TB freelance consultant Dave Fairbank, the more prolific of the Daves I know who write for this blog, has certainly earned the R and R respite he gets in the Outer Banks these days. (Interrupted annually by the OBFT invasion and our merry band of revelers.) And we sincerely appreciate the contributions he makes herein that elevate us beyond dipshittery now and again.
But with so much talent being systematically, mind-numbingly culled out of the newsrooms for several years now, aren't there minds like mine who'd rather be regaled with a series of his (and his comrades') intelligent takes and clever writing than what we get instead? The AP reprints, the online typo-graphy, the outright snarksmanship, and the tritely half-baked cracks at insight? If Mr. Povich could go on cranking out Post-worthy pieces until he was 92, there's more to be gleaned from this 'not dead yet" troupe of newsmen and women.
Just a thought. Until then . . . Dave, rob has your next assignment.
The link is here: After 36 years, it's time for this scribe to begin a new chapter
Subscribers to The Virginian-Pilot (like myself) and/or The Daily Press have seen a recurring segment this week in a story sadly destined to keep recurring: Farewell columns from a proud legion of journalists who go by names such as "keyboard jockeys," "The Sons of Smith Corona," or even "Remington Steel." Newshounds, hacks, and scriveners who write for a living.
As "write" continues to become "wrote," it's almost become . . . rote . . . (sorry) . . . for us to wax sadly indignant here at Gheorghe. But three things to note:
- It's still a tale worth retelling.
- The photo below just never gets old.
- Did we mention Postcount?
 |
| Tango and Cash, eat your heart out |
But here's the thing that gets me. Shirley Povich, iconic sports journalist extraordinaire for The Washington Post for 342 years, kept writing 'til the day he died in 1998. Here's a link to his final column, printed posthumously. Give it a quick read.
While I'm capable of burying a lede like a body in a back lot, I'll give you the takeaway: He was 92 and still had most of his fastball, plus maybe some Gaylord Perry / Amanda Whurlitzer special sauce. He might've been guilty of some old-man "they did it first (and, by the way, better) back in my day" barbs, he came by that pretty damn honestly. He was the only guy to cover the Mark McGwire's Ruthian assault on the record books who'd actually covered Babe Ruth as a sportswriter. Yeah, okay. Let's just hear the man out.
Here's a morsel:
To judge McGwire a better home run hitter than Ruth at a moment when McGwire is exactly 300 homers short of the Babes’s career output is, well, a stretch. It is not in the mind-set of nice guy McGwire to challenge the Babe’s place as the No. 1 idol and most famed personality in the game. Too many truths forbid it. Before he started hitting home runs, did McGwire pitch three consecutive World Series shutouts? The Babe did. Does McGwire in the batter’s box command the high excitement Ruth did with his head cocked back, a scowl on his face, his toes turned in, and his bat poised for that pirouetting swing that engaged all parts of his body? And if the Babe did whiff, it was with such gigantic gusto that the fans could still chortle.Anyway, the world of sports journalism was a very, very different realm back when Shirley Povich retired after 50 years at the Post . . . and then wrote columns for the paper for another 25 years. While I have seen some folks "retire" from the local ragsheets and then pop up in by-lines thereafter in ad hoc cameos, by and large that's not what's happening.
Anyway, G:TB freelance consultant Dave Fairbank, the more prolific of the Daves I know who write for this blog, has certainly earned the R and R respite he gets in the Outer Banks these days. (Interrupted annually by the OBFT invasion and our merry band of revelers.) And we sincerely appreciate the contributions he makes herein that elevate us beyond dipshittery now and again.
But with so much talent being systematically, mind-numbingly culled out of the newsrooms for several years now, aren't there minds like mine who'd rather be regaled with a series of his (and his comrades') intelligent takes and clever writing than what we get instead? The AP reprints, the online typo-graphy, the outright snarksmanship, and the tritely half-baked cracks at insight? If Mr. Povich could go on cranking out Post-worthy pieces until he was 92, there's more to be gleaned from this 'not dead yet" troupe of newsmen and women.
Just a thought. Until then . . . Dave, rob has your next assignment.
Friday, February 07, 2020
The Rich Get Richer (Or: And You Thought Tua's Last Name Was Hard to Spell)
I was busy doing my nautilus session at the gym a couple weeks ago and got caught in a common conundrum. The cardio machine I wanted to use had crap programs on the tellies in front of it, while the machines I didn't want to use had good stuff on in front of them.
(Aside: I refuse to try to change TV channels at my gym. An errant arm angle can change 6-9 TV channels at once, irritate many people and create a ruckus. I saw one guy verbally abuse another guy for absentmindedly changing all channels at once. I thought it might progress to fisticuffs. I don't want any part of that. I prefer to keep to myself, scowl and silently judge people. It's what I do.)
Anyhoo, I decided to just do my stairmaster work and ignore the telly, where some high school football program was on. As I was banging out my steps, I noticed it was a show about five-star QB prospects. I slowly got drawn in. The program had a long feature on DJ Uiagalelei, the nation's #1 pro style QB prospect. And boy oh boy, I would be excited if I was a Clemson fan. Uiagalelei committed there and will be a true freshman this fall.
DJ is a 6'5", 240 lb monster who looks like the real deal. He comes from St. John Bosco High School in Cali. Unlike hefty QBs that size, like Big Ben, Byron Leftwich or JaMarcus Russell, this dude is all muscle. I know his highlights above are against high school kids, but he looks like a grown-ass man playing against these poor boys. He has speed, can throw on the run, and once (allegedly) won a long-throw contest by throwing a ball over 80 yards. The mythical narrative has already begun. And he's a very religious kid, so it's unlikely he pulls a Stephen Garcia and tries to set a South Carolina state record for most arrests while still a member of a college football program.
While it's way too premature to know how things will play out, some recent "can't miss" QB prospects that have come out (Tua and Lawrence, for example) did/may leave after three years to grab them dolla dolla bills in the NFL. It will be interesting to see how many reps Dabo gives DJ as the back-up to Lawrence this year. He may only have him on campus for three years.
Thursday, February 06, 2020
Rock the Vote, Please - Right Now
Ladies and gentlemen, GTBers, FOGTB, and gheorghies: I have a quick favor to ask.
I need your vote.
No, I'm not running for office. Neither is Clarence. Neither is Igor.
I need you all to vote on one side of a pending decision I need to make. It's crucial. It's critical. It's totally asinine.
It's controversial. Well, it's totally not, at all, but it's a subject that's hotly debated 'round these parts. And I sense that I already know the snarky answer, but I'm going to ask, anyway. Postcount and all.
My little sister reached out to me last night. She received as a Christmas gift from her husband four (4) tickets to a big concert in a big city. She now has two extra tickets to it, and she asked if a date and I would want to accompany her.
(If you translate that as: she spent a month looking for a better companion and failed... well, so did I.)
So, here goes. Should I make it happen, or should I let it go?
There's a Clash song that paraphrases that sentiment, but this sure as shit ain't The Clash, for obvious reasons, or I wouldn't bother asking.
So it's more like this: Should I be in a New York state of mind, or should I leave a tender moment alone?
Yeah, that's right. It's Billy Joel.
Cue the B&B video when Beavis says, "Oh . . . it's Rush." Sorry, guys.
He's a Hall of Fame act I don't think I've ever seen. I say "think" because lately I've reviewed a few festival lineups of yore and realized I have watched bands play that I would have otherwise told you I'd never seen. Like the Foo Fighters, Radiohead, and ATCQ. Huh. Getting old.
He has his once-a-month residency at Madison Square Garden. A cool concept made more impressive by playing 72 months in a row, all sold out.
Okay. Here's the deal:
I need your vote.
No, I'm not running for office. Neither is Clarence. Neither is Igor.
I need you all to vote on one side of a pending decision I need to make. It's crucial. It's critical. It's totally asinine.
It's controversial. Well, it's totally not, at all, but it's a subject that's hotly debated 'round these parts. And I sense that I already know the snarky answer, but I'm going to ask, anyway. Postcount and all.
My little sister reached out to me last night. She received as a Christmas gift from her husband four (4) tickets to a big concert in a big city. She now has two extra tickets to it, and she asked if a date and I would want to accompany her.
(If you translate that as: she spent a month looking for a better companion and failed... well, so did I.)
So, here goes. Should I make it happen, or should I let it go?
There's a Clash song that paraphrases that sentiment, but this sure as shit ain't The Clash, for obvious reasons, or I wouldn't bother asking.
So it's more like this: Should I be in a New York state of mind, or should I leave a tender moment alone?
Yeah, that's right. It's Billy Joel.
Cue the B&B video when Beavis says, "Oh . . . it's Rush." Sorry, guys.
He's a Hall of Fame act I don't think I've ever seen. I say "think" because lately I've reviewed a few festival lineups of yore and realized I have watched bands play that I would have otherwise told you I'd never seen. Like the Foo Fighters, Radiohead, and ATCQ. Huh. Getting old.
He has his once-a-month residency at Madison Square Garden. A cool concept made more impressive by playing 72 months in a row, all sold out.
Okay. Here's the deal:
- February 20
- It's a Thursday. Bad because I have class that night, good because I don't have work the next day.
- It's at MSG. Never seen a show there. I don't think. (Saw a hoops game with Marls. Thanks, Marls.)
- He's a Rock and Roll Hall of Famer.
- Probably my only shot to see him.
- It's undoubtedly a fun time.
- Plus, NYC afterwards.
- Though I am going to be in the City a month or so later for Dave's birthday.
- WHICH YOU SHOULD ALL GO TO. Brooklyn 3/28.
- Setlists look to my Billy Joel taste, with the most tunes from the 3-album pinnacle of The Stranger, 52nd Street, and Glass Houses.
- I'd have to fly up and back, most likely. Ain't a backbreaker, ain't free.
- And stay over. Same story.
- And missing class... doable, not ideal. I'm missing a week later for a conference (plus DBT's with GTB).
- Most importantly, I do actually enjoy BJ's music. Not my favorite by a very long shot, but I'll know virtually every song, and I'll have fun.
- No clue how good the seats are. Don't have the lead to ask my sister before deciding.
I'm usually a sucker for a singular opportunity. But I'm on the fence on this one. Looking for a helping hand here.
Please cast your vote, all gheorghies!
Wayback Machine, Where We're Still 12 Year-Old Boys
On more than one occasion we've referenced William and Mary's early-90s three-man backcourt, which consisted of Kurt Small, David Cox, and Derrick Peters. In those days, the juvenile (and still amusing - let's not kid ourselves) sobriquet made from their surnames entertained us at least as much as the squad's on-court performances.Last weekend, as I was watching my daughter's future alma mater take on Rhode Island, I was reminded of what happened to David Cox. (I also got to check out FOG:TB Mike Litos' sublime beard - our guy's got it going nearly ZZ Top-style). The '95 Tribe alum, who's 8th on the all-time W&M assists list, is in his second season as the head coach of the Rams program.
Cox led Rhody to an 18-15 record last year, 9-9 and smack in the middle of the Atlantic 10. 2019-20 is a different story, altogether. After his team went Ram to Ram against VCU and got the better of the kids from Richmond by an 87-75 score that belied Rhode Island's dominance, Cox's squad has a 17-5 record, 9-1 in the A10. They lost their first league game against Richmond before running off nine straight wins.
Rhode Island plays George Washington this week before heading to Dayton next Tuesday to take on the unbeaten league-leading Flyers.
Small, Cox, Fatts, Peters. It's got a ring to it, no?
Wednesday, February 05, 2020
The Return of the Dipshittery
Kelley O'Hara is a sublime talent. The 31 year-old is a stalwart member of the two World Cup-winning U.S. Women's National Soccer Teams. She's indefatigable, bombing up and down the wing from her outside back position, serving crosses into the box that her more famous teammates convert into goals.
She's also, if you listen to Men in Blazers, infectiously fun and very self-effacing.
Earlier this week, the USWNT took on Costa Rica in an Olympic qualifying match. The U.S. ladies had no trouble handing the distaff Ticos, but O'Hara did have a bit of an embarrassing moment. As she herself highlighted on Twitter:
Everyone, you’re welcome. https://t.co/HH6anxqGNF— Kelley O'Hara (@kelleymohara) February 4, 2020
We've all been there, at least metaphorically. Good on you, Kelley, and good luck in Tokyo
Tuesday, February 04, 2020
Bleak on Bleak
I came here this morning to elevate the mood, moving on from the darkness of the previous post and ignoring the Democratic Party clusterfuck in Iowa. And then I read this interview with Patterson Hood about Drive-By Truckers' new album, The Unraveling.
Rolling Stone's review of the album features a headline that reads, "Drive-By Truckers Channel Their Disgust With Trump’s America on ‘The Unraveling’" So Hood, et al, are kinda feeling it, too. "Stick it up your ass with your useless thoughts and prayers" from the aptly named "Thoughts and Prayers" may well be the rallying cry for the frustrated and increasingly less silent majority.
So here's that song for your listening pleasure(?):
There's a little bit of hope peeking out, which I suppose describes our time well. In the NPR interview linked above, Hood says, "The last line of the song, "Awaiting Resurrection," that ties in with the album cover, which has the two little boys standing on the beach watching the sunset. I'd like to think that somehow that is the ray of hope at the end."
We need a ray of hope, for sure.
Rolling Stone's review of the album features a headline that reads, "Drive-By Truckers Channel Their Disgust With Trump’s America on ‘The Unraveling’" So Hood, et al, are kinda feeling it, too. "Stick it up your ass with your useless thoughts and prayers" from the aptly named "Thoughts and Prayers" may well be the rallying cry for the frustrated and increasingly less silent majority.
So here's that song for your listening pleasure(?):
There's a little bit of hope peeking out, which I suppose describes our time well. In the NPR interview linked above, Hood says, "The last line of the song, "Awaiting Resurrection," that ties in with the album cover, which has the two little boys standing on the beach watching the sunset. I'd like to think that somehow that is the ray of hope at the end."
We need a ray of hope, for sure.
Saturday, February 01, 2020
God Help Us
"A republic, if you can keep it." -- Benjamin Franklin
This will be a short post. Others will write the history of this era, with lenses both short-term and expansive as time passes. Smarter, less lazy people than I will compile all of the dizzying details into cogent timelines and brutally revealing analysis. I write this only to get my personal feelings on the record, because I'm goddamned sure that I'm on the right side of history, and my ancestors need to know it.
America is broken.
Senator Lamar Alexander (R-TN) eulogized the version of it we knew when he said last night, "The question then is not whether the president did it, but whether the United States Senate or the American people should decide what to do about what he did." In other words, we know he's guilty, but we're not going to do anything about it.
Marco Rubio (R-FL) added today, "Just because actions meet a standard of impeachment does not mean it is in the best interest of the country to remove a President from office."
The fix was in from the beginning in the impeachment trial of President* Donald John Trump. Rep. Adam Schiff (D-CA) summarized it succintly, saying, "What we have seen over the last couple of days is a descent into constitutional madness".
Our country is increasingly more culturally diverse, less religiously observant, and less, well, white than it ever has been. That simple group of facts and the eventual outcomes that they herald is a recipe for the death of the current power structure. And if there's one thing that history teaches us, it's that power always seeks to hold power, usually with disregard for morality, norms, and anything other than short-term gain.
In this sense, Trump is a symptom. Mitch McConnell is the disease.
The Senator from Kentucky is betting that Democrats won't have similar willingness to use raw power when they eventually regain control of its Constitutional levers, instead deferring to the norms of the last century of the American political story. He is probably right. His genius (demented, appalling, infuriating genius) lies in his utter disregard for precedent, fairness, and comity. Machiavelli worships at his feet.
He'll be dead soon enough. Most 77 year-olds have a limited shelf life. The damage he wrought, which reached a climax that may well be a plateau this week, will long hereafter haunt us.
“God help us,” said Sen. Mark Warner (D-VA).
This will be a short post. Others will write the history of this era, with lenses both short-term and expansive as time passes. Smarter, less lazy people than I will compile all of the dizzying details into cogent timelines and brutally revealing analysis. I write this only to get my personal feelings on the record, because I'm goddamned sure that I'm on the right side of history, and my ancestors need to know it.
America is broken.
Senator Lamar Alexander (R-TN) eulogized the version of it we knew when he said last night, "The question then is not whether the president did it, but whether the United States Senate or the American people should decide what to do about what he did." In other words, we know he's guilty, but we're not going to do anything about it.Marco Rubio (R-FL) added today, "Just because actions meet a standard of impeachment does not mean it is in the best interest of the country to remove a President from office."
The fix was in from the beginning in the impeachment trial of President* Donald John Trump. Rep. Adam Schiff (D-CA) summarized it succintly, saying, "What we have seen over the last couple of days is a descent into constitutional madness".
Our country is increasingly more culturally diverse, less religiously observant, and less, well, white than it ever has been. That simple group of facts and the eventual outcomes that they herald is a recipe for the death of the current power structure. And if there's one thing that history teaches us, it's that power always seeks to hold power, usually with disregard for morality, norms, and anything other than short-term gain.
In this sense, Trump is a symptom. Mitch McConnell is the disease.
The Senator from Kentucky is betting that Democrats won't have similar willingness to use raw power when they eventually regain control of its Constitutional levers, instead deferring to the norms of the last century of the American political story. He is probably right. His genius (demented, appalling, infuriating genius) lies in his utter disregard for precedent, fairness, and comity. Machiavelli worships at his feet.
He'll be dead soon enough. Most 77 year-olds have a limited shelf life. The damage he wrought, which reached a climax that may well be a plateau this week, will long hereafter haunt us.
“God help us,” said Sen. Mark Warner (D-VA).
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