The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Twelve

On the Twelfth Day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me

Twelve Weird Couplings

Eleven Months of Dipshits

Ten (plus) Buffalo wins
Nine Joyous Moments
Eight Hot (or Lukewarm) Takes

Seven Books For Reading

Six Footie Jerseys

Five musicians from San Antonio known as the Sir Douglas Quintet

A four-part Japanese life strategy (as told by our man in the OBX)

Three 80's Baseball Sports Looks

Too Many Entries,

and a Cameo That Will Go Down in History

Greetings to all the gheorghies on this New Year’s Eve, one that is dreary, muggy, and rainy here in southeastern Virginia. How perfectly apropos for a year that began with promise and ended with resignation.

My Day 12 last time around included this at the end: 

“I have tickets to They Might Be Giants in DC with Rob and The Black Crowes in Va Beach unless they implode again. Seeing the Hoodoo Gurus down here in November. Beyond that: Cold War Kids, The Allman Betts Band, Southern Culture On the Skids, Sturgill Simpson, The Revivalists, Waxing Poetics, The Lumineers, . . . join me, gheorghies?”

Well, I didn’t see any of those shows, for one obvious reason. Nor did I see The Revivalists, Violent Femmes and X, Wilco and Sleater-Kinney, The Black Keys, and Patton Oswalt -- all of which I had tickets purchased to see. 

I did catch the Drive-By Truckers and Carbon Leaf on back-to-back nights in DC and Leesburg alongside several gheorghies. Terrific shows they were, made more glorious now by the finality of such endeavors.

For the first handful of Gheorghemases, I would reserve Day 12 exclusively for appreciations. While 2020 doesn’t seem to have made itself a strong candidate for such a list, there are a number of hidden treasures within the past 366 that stand out. Indeed, lamenting this shabby year in review and yet uncovering some real greatness is something of a paradox.

To that end, here are a dozen weird couplings for 2020…

Live Music vs. The Absence Of
If you’d have told me a year ago that my Concerts Attended number would go from 29 last year to 6 this year… and that the latter half of those shows would be masked and distanced and a bit stressful, I’d have told you it would utterly and completely suck. And I would have been right. 

But there were some unforeseen bright spots. Rhett Miller, the lead singer of one of my favorite bands, took to doing one-hour shows from his basement every week and then several times a week. The format was “pay what you want," though if you tip the most of the show, you get a request at the following one.

Which I did.

In the absence of live music, I'll take this.

Lockdown Laziness vs. Confined Creativity
As much as I should have utilized all the days and nights of lockdown to get a hundred home projects done and do something special... I didn't. There was much lounging. 

That said, I also pined for the lost days of packed venues enough to finish a project I’d been mulling for a while:

Want to see a cool gift? The QR code plays the song, the song is represented by the waves on a cool wooden plaque. My woman is a hip, hip, hip lady.

Punk vs. Mainstream Rock, Product Placement Version

I was amused and impressed when I saw The Clash Chuck Taylors.

Then I saw the Led Zeppelin pinball machine(s). Check this shit out.

Eric Clapton and Van Morrison vs. Eric Clapton and Van Morrison

When I was in high school (just a few years ago), classic rock reigned supreme, and Clapton Is God was a generally accepted principle. Eddie Van Halen was the new regime, but Slowhand was the man all the young dudes loved.  Meanwhile, Van the Man was the ladies' choice but unisexually appreciated. He may not be listed in Steven Hyden's Five-Album Test article, but a lot of folks would suggest that Astral Weeks/Moondance/His Band and the Street Choir/Tupelo Honey/Saint Dominic's Preview certainly qualify. To wit, 88% of every mixtape made for a girl in the 1980's contained "Crazy Love," "Brown-Eyed Girl," or "Tupelo Honey"... and they all contained "Wonderful Tonight."

That was then, this is now. Through the years, I learned about how Van Morrison was something of an insufferable prick with a massive ego. And within the last year I listened to the Spotify podcast on The Clash (narrated brilliantly by Chuck D) and heard about Eric Clapton's 1976 rant on a Birmingham. England stage about "keeping Britain white" and what-not. Real vulgarian type of stuff.  Yuck.

Fast forward to 2020. Van Morrison's creative content dried up years ago, but he has rediscovered his muse in the form of anti-masking songs. He has four now.  The most recent is a collaboration with Clapton called "Stand and Deliver." The afore-linked article about it begins with a great line: "Eric Clapton and Van Morrison, both age 75 and therefore at 220 times the risk of death from COVID-19 compared to people 18 to 29, have released a blues-rock track raging against public health codes." 

Oh, well. On the plus side, they will get some fresh ink written about them when we issue the next version of GTB's Top 20 Douches in Rock and Roll.

"Stand and Deliver" vs. "Stand and Deliver"
You decide.  I know which song Dick Turpin would prefer.

Gone from Home vs. Never Gone from the Heart

On a personal note, my first-born fled the nest this year. She's at the University of South Carolina, and COVID struck a few weeks after she got there. It unnerved me rather significantly. And then she got better. And made tons of friends, despite the state of things. And went to an SEC football game. And hosted her Dad for a weekend, where he got awfully jealous. And then she got a 4.0. 

And like rob mentioned, the lockdown downtime I got with her before she left was unforeseen and exactly what the doctor ordered before her departure. 

Love vs. Hate, Beatles Style

I mentioned Steven Hyden earlier. He's one of my favorite music writers and has been for some time. I think I first read him at Grantland.  I like his tastes, his style, his consistent output.

A couple of weeks ago he posted on Uproxx, his current home, with a piece called The Best Beatles Songs, Ranked. Whew, there's a big and bold idea. I do like that he says up front that such lists are inherently stupid. As Neko Case said, "Ranking lists do NOT represent music or art. That’s some sports bullshit." I said during Gheorghemas three years ago that I dropped good/better/best/bad/worse/worst because "there's just shit you like and shit you don't." But... it's always fun to hear other people's favorites.

Hyden's list is a highly enjoyable, informative read, and he personalizes it quite a bit. There are selections obviously and far less so, and like I sometimes do in such challenging music lists, he totally cheated. (See his #2.) It's worth the time it takes, and you should definitely have the Beatles songs at your fingertips if you read it. You'll want to play one or two you haven't dug up in a while.

One weird thing is that the word "hate" appears in this piece eight times. Mostly in the context of which Beatles hated which songs, or each other. Seems like this labour of love list would dispense with the hate a bit more.

Fran Healy vs. Fran Healy

(also titled "12 is a lot of anything")

Fran Healy was a light-hitting catcher in the 1970's, most memorably for me as a member of the 1977 New York Yankees I bandwagonly cheered for as a kid. My grandmother got his autograph for me when she jumped onto the dugout in Lauderdale that spring, a story I mentioned in the GTB comments recently. In the early 2000's, I got the Extra Innings baseball package to watch and chronicle every miserable game the wretched Mets played, and Fran Healy added color commentary to many of those games. He was light fare, as silly and ineffectual as the team was.  This was my favorite exchange between Healy and the all-timer past his time Ralph Kiner in 2005 after a home run. Fran: He got all of that, he knew it, and he was Cadillacking around the bases.

Ralph: Well, you know what they say about Cadillacs . . . home run hitters drive Cadillacs.

F: I tell you, Ralph Kiner coined that phrase many years ago, and kids in the Little Leagues from that moment on said, “Bunt? Forget bunting, I’m going for the long ball.”

R: That’s where that expression came from – he Cadillacked around the bases.

F: Did it come from that?

R: I doubt that.

They don't call them the best color men in baseball for nothin’.

And then there's Fran Healy. The frontman for the band Travis.  I dig their stuff, it's Britpop, fairly mellow, like the Scottish Connells. (There's a musical connection 'twixt the two bands, actually.) You may have heard "Why Does It Rain on Me," "Turn," "Writing to Reach You," "Side," but here they are singing "Sing" at Live 8 some 15 years ago.

Release vs. Resurrection
Last year I assured you that the debut album by Les Coole and The Cukes would come out in 2020. It didn't.  No excuses, what with all the downtime. I did get a few songs done, as Rob linked to last Gmas post.  I am extremely disappointed to confess that my dream of an album release simply did not happen.

And yet, something I was dead sure did not happen, something glorious and profound, did occur. From the ashes, Penny Baker and Les Coole (and original ORF Rocker DJ Bombay) rejoined the on-air crew at WODU for ORF Rock after an 18-month hiatus that by all accounts was permanent. Same lovable co-hosts; same punk, alt, and Elvis bent; same technical difficulties. But we are back on! I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. 

Wednesdays at 7pm, starting back up in a few weeks. Give us a listen.  Here was one of our shows from a few weeks ago. In it, we play a Les Coole and The Cukes song, so there's that solace.

Strychnine vs. Arsenic

So, 2020 was a disaster by any measure. I don't need to recap it. (But if you need that, go watch Netflix's Death to 2020 for some fun.)

But if you could replay the year and not have any of the disease, death, destruction, lockdown, worry, fear, and angst that COVID caused... but Donald Trump were re-elected... would you?  Lots good did actually happen in 2020. Some things rather momentous.

Downward Trending vs. A New Hope

Gheorghe: The Blog, through the years, based on the Number of Posts:

2003: 14

2004: 129

2005: 219

2006: 103 (wtf??)

2007: 192

2008: 373

2009: 394

2010: 402 (!!!)

2011: 365 (perfect)

2012: 307

2013: 338

2014: 289

2015: 265

2016: 235

2017: 212

2018: 216

2019: 193

2020: 258

Hallelujah. Long Live Gheorghe.

Hard Drive vs. Spotify

I grew up with cassettes. Buying them, making them, popping them into the car stereo as soon as I got in, repair-splicing them when they'd break, and collecting as many as I could. When I was in college I switched to CD's. And how. What you can see in one of the Les Coole Studios shots above is a fraction of the 2000+ discs I collected at some stupid price (although Columbia House and BMG were good to me) in the 90's and beyond.

About 14 or 15 years ago, I ripped most of those to mp3. iPods and iTunes made it relatively simple (though still time-consuming), and the portability was amazing. I compiled a hard drive with 37,000 songs on it, and it was a treasure. On this day 12 years ago I related the saga of accidentally wiping said hard drive (back when it had just 22k tunes) and having to pay handsomely for its recovery. I filled my friends' iPods and hard drives for them. It was gratifying.

Of course, of course that technology went by the wayside. Firstly because that's what technology does, secondly because as soon as I and my completist self feel like I've got it all, it goes away and renders my collection obsolete. Natch. 

Spotify and other streaming services came along and eliminated the novelty of me having an album or a song that people couldn't find and hadn't heard in ages. Oh well. The truth, however, is that it's an amazing development (if one that squeezes artists out of nearly all royalties) and very useful. I have shared music over the medium with several of you. Zman and I have a collaborative playlist and share rare/new stuff. I dig it.

There are still some songs that aren't on Spotify, some that never will be, that I carry in my own collection. That's a post for another day. For now, though, here's my annual best-of-the-year list.

While you peruse and listen to it, keep this in mind. I love you, gheorghies. You people are the finest in all the land, by some margin. Happy New Year.

Rear View Mirror, Motherfucker

While we wait for our Norfolk correspondent to put a bow on this turd of a year, a short, simple message for 2020 from JMU's own Everything.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Eleven

On the Eleventh Day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me

Eleven Months of Dipshits

Ten (plus) Buffalo wins
Nine Joyous Moments
Eight Hot (or Lukewarm) Takes

Seven Books For Reading

Six Footie Jerseys

Five musicians from San Antonio known as the Sir Douglas Quintet

A four-part Japanese life strategy (as told by our man in the OBX)

Three 80's Baseball Sports Looks

Too Many Entries,

and a Cameo That Will Go Down in History

As we sat together at dinner on Christmas Day, my wife asked each of us what positive things happened to us during this annus horribilis. I said something about getting to spend so much more time at home with family, which has been a true blessing - one of the silver linings this year for me is the literally thousands of hours spent at home that would have normally been spent in an office or commuting. Had I been more aware at the time, I would've also noted that the pandemic has been good for business, G:TB division.

We're nearing 260 posts for 2020, which marks our highest output since 2015, back when we were young and fit. The total number of posts will wind up nearly 70 more than 2019. And our posts had much more diversity than in years past, at least according to the eye test. 2020 marked Whitney's most productive year, and TR's too. OBX Dave lit the lamp (that's what we call it when someone posts) far more often in this, his rookie year, than while he was merely guest-posting. Old Dave, less so, but he was trying to teach while wearing PPE and working from a steampunk standing desk setup. If nothing else, COVID-19 has helped us all understand our true priorities. Those being, obviously, postcount. 

But this annual post is a celebration of quality rather than quantity. We had a bit of both this year. And so, as Bugs and Daffy used to sing, on with the show, this is it.

January

Came out firing in the first month of the year, by...posting Day 11 of Gheorghemas 2019. That shoulda been a harbinger. Also foreshadowing, fully 10 of the month's 22 posts featured music prominently. I'm not going to look it up (because lazy), but it certainly feels to me like music played an even more significant role here in 2020. And I'm very okay with that.

The first real post of 2020 was TR's celebration of his Amazon account turning 22 years old. Doozy.

Whitney closed the books on 2019 with Day 12. Who needs a Gregorian calendar when you've got a Gheorghian one?

Zman rolled out his Shazam! search history.

Mark was (very) briefly pretty closely connected to a Division I hoops coach, and I got to drop Brett Blizzard into a post.

And when the wombat comes, you should embrace him, for he is a noble motherfucker.

This filler post by Whitney featured one of my favorite videos of the year - kids in sundresses and Vans performing Fugazi's 'Waiting Room'.

Squirrel died too soon.

In another bit of foreshadowing, new resident of the masthead Dave Fairbank closed the month with an insider's view of decline of local news.

February

We dropped 21 posts in the last normal month of 2020. We were so innocent then. Ten more music posts, too. 

Mercifully for us and for our readers (which, I guess, is redundant), we pulled back on our overtly political posts this year. But the first post of February was a pretty fucking bleak essay on the Impeachment of our asshole President*. As I've said before and will again, Trump is a symptom. The disease is the corroded, wayward core of the Republican party.

Fatts Russell meets a third of Small, Cox, and Peters.

Fairbank's Comrade Teel moved on from the Southside, and Whitney was there to chronicle it. In a manner of speaking. Also gave us an excuse to post our favorite photo of OBX Dave.

Shosholoza.

Teej found an Atari hotel. Pretty on-brand.

2020's first Wrenball post found me caught between emotions. The rest of the year nearly fully vindicated me. #hugemistake

The year's first WCSAGD, in which Zman called Mark the Gheorghie "the only Gheorghie who could plausibly be a character in a Fast and Furious movie".

Whitney managed to work the Beastie Boys and Clint Eastwood into a lengthy musing about Michael Bloomberg's suitability as a potential Trump-beater/country-savior. I know what you're thinking, and you're correct.

The Teej is moving up in the world.

Zman said this in a post about the Democratic Presidential candidates: 

"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!" 

We should probably listen to Z more often.

Whit exhorted us all early in the year to post more content, and he did his part. This musing on Mazzy Star's only hit was dope.

March

Twenty-three posts in March, and damn near every one worth a re-read. The beginning of the pandemic in the U.S. brought out both comedy and impressively thoughtful work (though only five posts about music). You guys should write a book.

Z has written a lot of glorious posts featuring charts and gifs. This exposition of the Curve of Drunkenness might be his magnum opus.

Nathan Knight is the GOAT.

Whitney tried his hand at zjurisprudence.

And bid a fond adieu to The Trellis, where I asked my wife to marry me.

Though we'd been talking about it in the comments, our first real mention of the pandemic came in this post, which featured Turkish soccer and U.S. Reed. Because Gheorghe.

Our next post was the first of our semi-recurring feature that petered out eventually, Corona Files. OBX Dave gave us the view from the beach, pandemic version.

TR kicked off the Official GTB Post-Apocalypse Soundtrack.

Speaking of soundtracks, zman created one based on the 'neck.

Since we couldn't have an NCAA Tournament, we asked OBX Dave to write about it. Decent consolation prize.

Danimal's WCSAGD is flat-out gorgeous. Like Danimal.

My daughter made her G:TB posting debut. Proud of that kid.

Here's what all of our beards and several of our dogs looked like early in the time of the Corona. Marls looks like a deejay at a second-rate EDM festival. For the record, I still haven't gone back to being clean-shaven.

April

Music returned with a vengeance in April, the topic of 55% of the month's 20 posts. Soothes the savage beasts, or something.

The prolific Dave gave us a piece about his work on a story about Joe Paterno. Before, y'know.

The Teej's birthday Zoom call was wonderfully weird and epic. With bonus Kato Kaelin.

Rootsy had a close shave, in more ways than one.

I bought an Austrian soccer team. As one does.

Whitney embarked on an ambitious documentary film (watching) project.

He also wrote a meta-review and an album review all rolled into one.

I amused myself with my own words more than once during this trip back in time. For instance: "When they write the history of Gheorghe: The Blog, I hope they spell my name right. I also hope they describe us as a mix of Sports Illustrated, High Times, and The State. Also, Cat Fancy. Can't forget about Cat Fancy.

There was Zoom music. Still is, actually.

May

May, as you'll see, was fucking weird, man. We posted about our crazy hair and mustachery. The Teej briefly lost his mind and became the Vincent Van Gogh of pie-charting. Whitney took the ball and did some research about the history of filler here. We wrote a lot about the future of college sports. And not much at all about music - only two posts this month.

TR kicked off the insanity with his resemblance to the not-very-lamented former coach of the Detroit Lions, Matt Patricia.

Les Coole released new music.

In a two-part series, I displayed my Heat Miser-esque hairstyle and then documented my daughter's taming of that mess.

Fairbank told a tale of streaking.

Z penned a beautiful and moving remembrance of his grandmother, who passed this month.

TR's pragmatic pandemic-purchases did not resemble my more spree-based spur-of-the-moment consumerism.

Teejay created a vivid graphic depicting Bonnie Tyler's Hero Requirements. It might be the Gheorghiest/Teejiest thing ever made.

Spurred by the Teej's half-assed effort at meta-filler, Whitney researched the first usage of filler as a tag on G:TB (in February 2008), then compiled a list of every single type of filler we've ever used. 145 of 'em, as of May.

Fairbank and I both had thoughts about the future of intercollegiate athletics post-pandemic. We should update our pieces post-George Floyd after watched college kids start to test their considerable collective leverage.

We took a look at the 230+ posts we had in Draft form. Some gems in there. It so inspired TR that he wrote the same post in November.

June

June was a somber month, among the most such months in G:TB's long and less-than-distinguished run. The killing of George Floyd in late May loomed large here, as we grappled with the black community's pain and the long legacy of white supremacy that's so central to it. We managed our lowest output of the year with only 18 posts, seven of which were at least tangentially about race in America.

The first day of the month saw the first post that was a mix of angry and bemused at the fuckers that perpetuate the gross inequalities in our society.

My kids are full-on ACAB. I think I know better. It's been a hard and ongoing conversation.

Shlara's first non-guestie post was a lesson.

Whitney and OBX Dave teamed up on a series about late, lamented dive bars.

Langston Hughes made what is likely his first appearance here.

The Triumphant Return of the Ghoogles.

Closed out a strange, sad month with our first celebration of Negro League baseball.

July

Strong month for Whitney, in what was a strong year by our post player. (Get it?) The month was anchored by a most unusual and definitely welcome OBFT, which we chronicled in pictures. The crowd was smaller and grayer than usual, but the effort was undeniable.

We kicked the month off with our first Gheorghasbord of the year.

"Don't Take Your Foot Off the Gas". Life lessons from Whitney.

Here's the aforementioned OBFT in visual form.

Rest in Power, John Lewis.

TR's kid is a good man.

A story of connections, youth, sadness, crowdsourcing, and humanity.

R.I.P. Dave Fairbank.

The Teej opened the Vhault. And there were cereal mascots within.

My daughter left the nest. And I had feelings about it.

August

After a string of relatively low-energy months, postcountally speaking, we began to ramp it up in August, mustering 22 mostly forgettable but entertaining in the moment efforts.

We started with the definitive ranking of the top five logos in American sports. As predicted, Minnesota United got the dub.

There's a bigger point to TR's mini-essay about slaughtering lethargic flies, but I can't quite connect the dots.

Oskar Blues made a mustard beer. For the love of all that's holy, that needs to stop.

Whit got wistful about his little girl. Been there, appreciate that.

Cooley.

Buck O'Neil, Gheorghie as fuck.

Whit has found him a home.

Zman had ideas about COVID-19. They were interesting, but they didn't age all that well. 

SVP, homecoming, and Trouble Funk.

September

We cranked it up to 25 posts in September, and if I say it was an eclectic month, I'd be doing a disservice to eccentric. Three compelling think pieces from OBX Dave, Whitney's 50th birthday, and extended run of silly homemade 'art', and a month-closing run of music-based filler.

The month got off to a rocking start as we released new singles by both Les Coole and Greasetruck. The former was set to autoplay, and thus annoying as fuck every time I opened G:TB. No offense, Les.

A post about the WNBA logo led to a series of posts that culminated in the long-awaited design of Gheorghe: The Logo. Which in turn became Gheorghe: The Blog: The T-Shirt, thanks to Rootsy.

Civil War generals as Muppets, a definitive thread.

"A cornerstone of newspapering is being able to humanize the day’s activities."

Our Ombhudsman Could Kick Your Ombudsman's Ass.

COVID came way too close to home for the G:TB family.

TR and I posted videos of our dogs doing dog things. Big year for canines at G:TB.

First guestie from King Juan Carlos, who taught us how to make a Negroni.

When historians stumble upon G:TB, the juxtaposition of this piece on income inequality by OBX Dave with funk filler, Negroni recipes and dog videos will lead to some interesting conclusions about our time.

Smells Like Van Spirit.

October

Strong, strong month for TR, and in general for all of us. 25 more posts in the year's tenth month, marking our highest two-month output since February/March 2015. You kids have been putting in the work.

Z kicked us off with Rootsy's WCSAGD, which is bitchin'.

Road Warrior Animal passed, and with him a bit of TR's youth.

"When a parrot tells you to 'fuck off' it amuses people very highly. It's brought a big smile to a really hard year."

More about TR's youth, a chapter on Dave Winfield.

And here he is again with a story about how Van Halen made him realize he liked girls.

WCSAGD and real life collide.

Whit finished The Wire. Finally.

Saved by the Bell, back.

My baby kidlet communicated with me. In her own way.

Original Dave posted for the one of the very few times in 2020, a doozy of a scary poem.

November

We slowed it down in November, probably because we were so flabbergasted that Fairbank finally figured out how to post by himself. 20 posts in total, grappling with electoral anxiety in the beginning of the month and the reality that this fucking pandemic ain't going anywhere by the end.

More zShazams!

A beautiful post by Danimal connecting death, life, and cats.

Election Day anxiety open thread.

G:TB on the John Fetterman for President bandwagon early. Remember where you heard it first.

Supertankers of Guano, an Exploration of America.

Garden variety Gheorghasbord, all-time headline: Great Tits in Crisis.

Dave Fairbank finally posted without training wheels. Big day.

Hand of God, in the hands of God.

And the final Wrenball of the year, in which we're skeptical of...lots of things.

It's a tradition in this space that I wax philosophical about how this weird little electronic meeting place carries with it real meaning. That it's a recurring bit makes it no less true, especially this year. We've been at this for 17 years now, and I daresay we've all got enough going on in our lives that we wouldn't do it if it didn't bring us joy and camaraderie and community. And so I thank you, Gheorghies, for your time and creativity and humor and insight. You're the best, you magnificent bastards.

A Differential Gheorghemas Interlude

Did you ever wonder how your car's differential works?  Do you know what the differential is?  It's that round thing behind your truck nuts.

Luckily, in 1937 a guy named Jam Handy made a movie explaining it in an accessible way.  Parenthetically, Jam Handy sounds like a good guy to have around if you need to throw a particularly large or belligerent person in the bowl.

You can fast forward to 1:55 if you don't want to watch the introductory nonsense.  Postcount!

More Interludes, Gheorghemas Style

I wrote about my subversive Christmas playlist here before.  For your Gheorghemas entertainment, I transferred it from iTunes to Spotify and embedded it below.  You should play it on shuffle because I'm too lazy to mix it up myself.  Enjoy.

Another Gheorghemas Interlude

Our pocket emperor demanded another Gheorghemas interlude while he works on Day 11, so a Gheorghemas interlude he shall have.  Few musicians are as Gheorghe as Action Bronson so here's a new-ish Bronsoline joint to tide you over while waiting for a different fat man to slide down your chimney.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Ten

On the tenth day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me

Ten (plus) Buffalo wins
Nine Joyous Moments
Eight Hot (or Lukewarm) Takes

Seven Books For Reading

Six Footie Jerseys

Five musicians from San Antonio known as the Sir Douglas Quintet

A four-part Japanese life strategy (as told by our man in the OBX)

Three 80's Baseball Sports Looks

Too Many Entries,

and a Cameo That Will Go Down in History

It's a great time to be a Buffalo Bills fan, the best time in the past 21 years.  They won 11 games so far this year, and this is the first stretch of back-to-back 10-win seasons since 1998-1999.  It is also their first back-to-back playoff appearances since 1998-1999.  Almost as emotionally important, they haven't beaten the Patriots twice in one season since 1999, and it looks like they have a good shot at doing so on December 28.  

via GIPHY

Oh, they also won the AFC East for the first time since 1995.

via GIPHY

The offense has scored the 5th most points, accumulated the 6th most yards, and picked up the 6th most yards per play.  Josh Allen has the 4th most passing yards, the 6th most passing TD, the 7th best passer rating, and he's finally starting to play more like John Elway and less like John Elway with a lobotomy.  Stefon Diggs leads the league in receptions and has the 3rd most receiving yards.  Based on these numbers, it's no surprise that they have the 4nd best passing offense according to pro-football-reference.com's "expected points contributed" metric.  

via GIPHY

What is surprising is Josh Allen's progress over the last three seasons.  His passing yardage went from 2000 to 3000 to 4000 yards, his passing TD went from 10 to 20 to 30, and his completion percentage went from 53% to 58% to 69%.  The fact that he has the 6th best completion percentage blows my mind.  Also mind-blowing: his 26 career wins are the most of any Buffalo QB since Jim Kelly.

via GIPHY

The defense is middle of the road statistically for the season, but they've tightened up over the last 4-5 games.  Tre'Davious White is a badass (although I'd still rather have Patrick Mahomes with the 10th pick in the 2017 draft), and Jordan Poyer and Micah Hyde are as good a safety tandem as any.  AJ Klein and Tremaine Edmunds are affirmatively good and Edmunds wears #49 (I love the new rules allowing LBs to wear numbers in the 40s).  They're a fun group to watch.

via GIPHY

The Bills are also fans of our Bite Me Randy Newman recurring bit, with a not insignificant number of their significant players being relatively short.  There's Devin Singletary (5'7"); Cole Beasley (5'8" and zson is getting his jersey for Gheorghemas, luckily no Gs in his name); Isaiah McKenzie (also 5'8"); Zack Moss (like me an ideal 69" tall); and Tre'Davious White, Taron Johnson, John Brown, and Andre Roberts (all 5'11").

via GIPHY

I'm really happy about the team's direction.  If your team fails to make the playoffs, root along with me for the Bills.  They might pull off a Gheorghemas miracle, they're a pretty Gheorghe crew.

via GIPHY

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Nine

On the ninth day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me

Nine Joyous Moments
Eight Hot (or Lukewarm) Takes
Seven Books For Reading
Six Footie Jerseys
Five musicians from San Antonio known as the Sir Douglas Quintet
A four-part Japanese life strategy (as told by our man in the OBX)
Three 80's Baseball Sports Looks
Too Many Entries,
and a Cameo That Will Go Down in History

I'm generally drawn to iconoclasts in my professional life, even as I'm not really one myself. I do have a bit of a 'fuck it, ask forgiveness rather than permission' streak at work, but I'm not tilting at a lot of windmills. Several years ago, an iconoclastic senior leader at my company addressed a gathering and told us that "culture eats strategy for breakfast". It's stuck with me since. (I didn't realize until later that it was the formulation of legendary business theorist Peter Drucker. Even iconoclasts get their ideas somewhere, I guess.)

Over the past two years, I've had a chance to lead a team that's larger than any before it in my career. A lot of the people that work for me are sales reps. I don't have much of a direct background in sales, and I certainly don't have very much experience in sales leadership. So I decided early on to let the people that knew what they were doing do their jobs while I focused most of my energy on building a culture of teamwork and accountability.

This year, it goes without saying, has tested that culture and my leadership.

I made a decision early in the pandemic to eschew the normal metrics-driven sales performance management process and tell the team their jobs were safe regardless of how much they sold, as long as they demonstrated the behaviors that matter to our culture. And I started ending every work week with with an email to the entire team entitled 'Week-Ending Moment of Joy'. 

It began as a way to help people feel connected to the bigger world and have something small to feel good about during the scary early days of the pandemic. It's become a cathartic act for me, and a community rallying point for our team. Most weeks, people on my team react to the WEMOJ (that's what we call it now) by sharing their own stories that align with the weekly theme. It's connected us across cultures and geographies and roles. It might be the single best thing I've done professionally.

And so for Gheorghemas, here are nine of my favorite WEMOJ themes:

I started sharing moments of joy back in April with this one, which we've actually featured here.

A colleague recommended this one, entitled 'Weightless'. It's a rush. I also dropped some Danny MacAskill on my team in May (in retrospect, there's been a decent about of cross-platforming going on - I've stolen liberally from G:TB to bring joy to my professional relationships. I think there's a best-seller to be written about that.)

In May, I shared the story of Emerson Weber, an 11 year-old girl from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Emerson wrote her mail carrier a letter thanking him for his service. What ensued was awesome:

Joy and sorrow are two sides of the same coin. So on Juneteenth in a year where more people became aware of that day's emotional tension, I shared Khalil Gibran's On Joy and Sorrow.

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.

     And he answered:

     Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

     And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was 

oftentimes filled with your tears.

     And how else can it be?

     The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy 

you can contain.

     Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was 

burned in the potter’s oven?

     And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was 

hollowed with knives?

     When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall 

find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you

joy.

     When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall 

see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your 

delight.

    

     Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, 

“Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

     But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

     Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your 

board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

     Verily you are suspended like scales between 

your sorrow and your joy.

     Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

     When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his 

silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

While I was away on vacation, I asked one of my leaders to fill in for me. He's an older guy, nearing the end of a very successful career in sales leadership. He's a teacher in the best sense of the word, and he's still working long after he could have retired because he takes great joy in helping people reach their potential. He wrote about The Kindred Spirit mailbox on Bird Island, NC. His wife's Uncle Frank plays a key role in the story.

Tim and Fred Williams are 22 year-old twins from Gary, Indiana. By their own admission, they grew up listening almost exclusively to gospel and rap, so their exposure to other musical genres was limited. From those limits came a unique opportunity to experience “old” music through new ears. The Williams twins started a YouTube Channel called TwinsthenewTrend, where they film themselves listening to songs they’ve never heard before and reacting in real time. Their authenticity and enthusiasm are contagious. (That's actually how I started the WEMOJ message that introduced these dudes. So, yes, I'm plagiarizing myself here. Also, you gotta watch to at least the 4:55 mark of the first video when the drum break hits.)

In late August I told the story of the inspiration for my newest tattoo, and showed this picture:

Her handwriting on my arm, and mine on hers. A joy that will remain with me.

“The first person on Earth who went to Machu Picchu since the lockdown is meeeeeee” – Jesse Katayama

Jesse Katayama is a 26 year-old boxing and fitness instructor from Japan. In March, he traveled to Peru in hopes of seeing Machu Picchu, the fabled 15th Century fortress. Before he was able to use his entry ticket, Peru declared a state of emergency, closing the UNESCO Heritage Site to visitors.

As my colleagues from Reuters chronicled, Katayama’s next move was unexpected. 

Rather than returning home to Japan and making plans to come back at a later date, Katayama found a room in the local town of Aguas Calientes, explored other local sites, and began teaching boxing to local children. His Instagram feed is filled with photos of kids wearing his favored basketball jerseys and having fun.

Finally, after seven months, the Peruvian government made an exception and opened Machu Picchu for one visitor: Katayama. 

And finally, I shared this incredible video of a groom surprising his bride (who is a teacher of special needs kids) by having her students join the ceremony as ringbearers and flowergirls/boys. I'm not crying tears of joy, you are.

If I were a little bit more secure in my place in the cosmos, I'd write a WEMOJ about G:TB, 'cause this place gives me a great amount of joy. It's always a balm, and this year all the more so. Happy Gheorghemas, y'all. Hard to express how much you mean to me.

Scraping the Archives (aka TR's Picks, Vol 1): Freddy Mercury Sure Liked Hats With Horns on 'Em

Hi folks! Gheorghemas will be back soon. In the interim, I decided to dive into the deep end of the G:TB post history. I saw that we had 247 draft posts that never made the light of day (versus 4,700+ posts that went live on the web). I decided to review the drafts that I started to see what (if any) deserved to be finished. 

Turns out there were lots of turd sandwiches! Posts I started that did not make the cut included: 1) a post I did in early 2015 opining on the Warriors' ability to set the single-season NBA wins record, and 2) a post where I tried to create a love song "battle" b/w Jack & Diane and Brenda & Eddie (Scenes From an Italian Restaurant). Heady concept, but I struggled with the delivery. And I hate Billy Joel. Other drafts were of even lesser quality. 

But there were a couple posts worth resuscitating, if only for the cause of "filler" and/or "post count." Let's start with Queen. I have no memory of starting this post in 2015, but re-reading it made me laugh. Apparently, I came across an old "video" for Another One Bites the Dust. I noticed that Freddy was into hats with horns during the video. REALLY INTO THEM. I watched the video and recorded each of the nine (!) hat changes he has during the video. I'm sure there's a horns/penis joke in there somewhere. I'll leave that part to you wordsmiths. 

Anyhoo, the video is below and the hat change time stamps are below that. Enjoy the song. And the hats. 

[Side note: Another One Bites the Dust was one of my first favorite rock tunes. My mom had the album and it was on the FM dial all the time. I used to think the title was "Another One Bites the Doctor." I was six. Cut me some slack. At least I was hip enough to dig that funky bass line.]

1:50 – purple cap w/ yellow horns

1:58 – white cap w/ purple horns
2:04 – yellow cap w/ yellow horns
2:06 – back to white w/ purple horns
2:11 – full-blown buffalo hat
2:22 – back to purple w/ yellow horns
2:26 – back to white w/ purple horns
3:06 – back to purple w/ yellow horns
3:10 – back to white w/ purple horns

Gheorghemas Interlude (NOW WITH MORE INTERLUDE)

There's nothing our demographic clamors more for than Patton Oswalt short films about suicidal priests. And today, you're in luck, courtesy of our man in the OBX. I haven't watched it yet, but I already know it's going to entertain. 

THE PRIEST from Michael Vukadinovich on Vimeo.

(MORE INTERLUDE)

Courtesy of zman, this very much encapsulates my worldview, and aligns with my previous commentary about liberals' need to embrace the fuck.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Eight

 On the eighth day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me

Eight Hot (or Lukewarm) Takes
Seven Books For Reading
Six Footie Jerseys
Five musicians from San Antonio known as the Sir Douglas Quintet
A four-part Japanese life strategy (as told by our man in the OBX)
Three 80's Baseball Sports Looks
Too Many Entries,
and a Cameo That Will Go Down in History

Eight Hot (or Lukewarm) Takes: 

1) Go watch a football doc with your kids! We are doing a whole lot of TV watching as a family these days, since recreation options for the kids are limited. Both are doing outdoor paddle tennis clinics, one is doing a basketball clinic, and one will start on-line chess soon (though he doesn't know yet and will make a fuss, but will end up loving it). We recently watched the Tua doc produced by FS1. It's a one-hour review of his journey from Hawaii to the NFL. You will come away liking him and his family quite a bit. The guy really seems grounded. So he'll torch the Jets for the next fifteen years. You can watch the one-hour doc on-line here. 

2) And then go watch a football series! When you are done with the Tua doc, I recommend watching the HBO Sports mini-series The Cost of Winning. It tells the story of St. Frances Academy, a high school football powerhouse in inner-city Baltimore that is bankrolled by a wealthy hedge fund guy. The doc was filmed in Fall 2019, and many of the players highlighted are now in college (many at big-time programs). It's easy to have a knee-jerk reaction to a football factory high school, but learning the back story of the kids and learning more about the grim realities in that part of Baltimore may change your view. 

3) Go watch a sports doc with your spouse! Wife and I recently started the four-part Oscar Pistorius doc on ESPN+. We're halfway done. It's worth watching. South African accents amuse me. The backstory is fascinating - his disability, his rise to fame, his trial, and his ability to date the hottest blonde women in the country. The story around his celebrity status and the awful crime is riveting. Lots of parallels to Orenthal James. 

4) The USDA's dietary recommendations are hot garbage and you all should consider a low-carb diet. A recent study was released that further validated the benefit of a low-carb diet. The study entailed putting patients with Type 2 diabetes on a "nutritional ketosis" diet for two years. Patients had lower cardiovascular risk and better body weight figures than the control group. The findings are here. The USDA's 2015-2020 Dietary Guidelines continue to call for grains and low-fat dairy as staple foods. I bet those fools still think Fish Oil is good for you. (spoiler: it's not) 

5) Denver Riggleman seems like my kind of Republican. The Rig-man is a Congressman representing the 5th district in Virginia, a comically gerrymandered area that approaches the yards of a few of our readers. He is not afraid to piss off fellow Republicans. This means he probably has no shot of having a successful career in Congress. He has become a pariah in his party for officiating a same-sex wedding (sweet blazers on the dudes getting hitched) and speaking his mind about the election. He was on a Bulwark podcast yesterday (h/t to Zman for getting his pal TR a one-year subscription to Bulwark+) and appeared amazingly coherent and fact-based in his comments. What he had to say about being concerned about the future of his country and the future of the Republican party was not comforting. I'm guessing some of you Virginians are already aware of him. The podcast is here. 

6) It's (about to be) a good time to be a Jets fan. No, really. The team's awful season will be over in less than three weeks. The team has nine picks in the 2021 draft, five in the first three rounds, and two in the first (they have Seattle's pick, which is projected at #25 now). The two top picks from 2020 look like winners (stud LT Mekhi Becton and talented WR Denzel Mims). And my neighbor (and awful coach) Adam Gase will soon be gone. Salary cap experts predict the team will be second in available money for free agency at $76 million (nerd out and review the info here). And the team should be able to get a quality coach who likes the idea of Trevor Lawrence and lots of cap room. NFL teams can turn things around quickly. Hop on the bandwagon now. Plenty of room. 

7) My favorite guilty pleasure song these days is an 18 year-old Busta Rhymes/Mariah Carey sex jam. At the end of last summer, the wife and I went out for outdoor cocktails at a nice joint in Asbury Park with another couple. I was 2-3 drinks deep and in the proper headspace when I excused myself to use the indoor restroom. As I walked in, I heard a smooth beat I hadn't heard in quite some time. It was playing LOUDLY. And it was awesome. Busta and Mariah. Go figure. Busta Rhymes has been in my life since early 1992, when my friends and I bumped Leaders of the New School cassettes in my Dodge Caravan. Always liked the guy. This song is mesmerizing to me. The beat is sick. His singing is very amusing (kinda bad, but still fun). And the lyrics are all about lovemaking, like he is paying homage to Barry White. I downloaded the song on the spot and promptly forgot I did. A month or so later, I found it and have been enjoying it. I want you all to play it and think of me the next time you're making sweet sweet love. On second thought, no need to think of me mid-coitus. Post-coitus is fine.  

8) I really really dig the Sturgill Simpson country record. Almost every music fan I respect loves the guy. I have it on my To Do list to get through his catalog. I even drunkenly committed to go see him at MSG in May 2020. That didn't happen. Not sure why or how, but I ended up downloading his 2020 album Cuttin' Grass - Vol 1. It's good!  It's filled in when I want to hear country-ish tunes these days. The musicians are top-notch and the banjo gives a dash of bluegrass sound that my ignorant ears like. 

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Seven

 On the seventh day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me

Seven Books For Reading

Six Footie Jerseys
Five musicians from San Antonio known as the Sir Douglas Quintet
A four-part Japanese life strategy (as told by our man in the OBX)
Three 80's Baseball Sports Looks
Too Many Entries
and a Cameo That Will Go Down in History

Lately, I've been trying to stay off screens in my free time, since I'm spending my days teaching virtual high school. By the end of the day, my eyes are tired, so I'm working on my core. Core exercises are TOUGH. Remember when working out was just benching and lat pulls, along with a few sit-ups and a couple of curls? Those days are long gone. Try this:

But I'm still reading plenty of books, either on paper of my Kindle Paperwhite (which has a nice albedo . . . it's not harsh like a screen). The pandemic has been good for reading. I've already read 51 books this year (including Tom Jones, which is a monstrous tome). 

Here are seven good ones.

NUMBER ONE . . . Deacon King Kong by James McBride.

READ THIS BOOK. I've never read anything quite like it. It's a fictionalized account of the Brooklyn housing project in McBride he grew up; the year is 1969 and it's all going down: urban decay and revitalization, baseball, drugs, race, language and tall tales . . . the book is so much fun, even when it gets dark-- and there's some romance and a mystery to keep the plot cooking. . . . t

The story begins with a bang-- in the first sentence Sportcoat-- the old drunk church deacon, walks up to a young heroin dealer (who he coached as a child) and shoots him in the ear . . . but really the book begins with the mystery of Sportcoat's friend Hot Sausage and the free cheese. A must read.

NUMBER TWO . . . Why We're Polarized by Ezra Klein

This is my non-fiction choice of the year. I learned so much. The takeaway: stop wasting your time following national politics (unless you enjoy it as a hobby . . . like rooting for a football team). If you want to enact change, get off social media and do something locally. If you think the current state of affairs is going to change, you're wrong. It's all identity politics-- the parties have figured it out, they've stacked the identities on top of one another, ballot splitting is rare, folks don't care about policy on the national level, and emotion reigns supreme. National politics is a team sport, dominated by psychological traits that aren't going to be mollified any time soon, so you're just going to get frustrated if you get involved. This might be the last book you read on this topic.

NUMBER THREE . . . The Secret History by Donna Tartt

This Bacchanalian murder mystery set in a college town is way too much fun. You won't put it down.

NUMBER FOUR . . . The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

I read a lot of incredibly dense and difficult sci-fi this year. Kept my mind off the election and the pandemic. I won't bore you with it-- it's for the diehards. This book is breezy and fun sci-fi . . . but also epic. If you want to read another fun and breezy sci-fi book (that's reminiscent of Kurt Vonnegut) check out Set My Heart To Five by Simon Stephenson.

NUMBER FIVE . . . Devil in a Blue Dress by Walter Mosley

Great hard-boiled mystery, but the knight in a powder blue suit is a black dude. You might as well read the trilogy. A Red Death  and White Butterfly are the next two.

NUMBER SIX . . . The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey

Another great mystery . . . but the detective never leaves his hospital bed. Enough said.

NUMBER SEVEN . . . The Inner Game of Tennis by W. Timothy Gallwey

One of the strangest sports books ever written. T.S. Eliot quotations and Zen consciousness tips will help you reach peak performance. I've been playing a shitload of tennis during the pandemic, and this book makes me realize that everything I need to hit the ball better is between my ears.

These are all excellent and fun reads. If you want some hardcore sci-fi recommendations, just ask. Add your 2020 favorites in the comments.

Gheorghemas Interlude: I Still Love the South Park Guys Very Very Much

I have loved the South Park guys since their first episode aired. I loved their back story, including how they finally started getting in to Hollywood parties, and their goal at these parties was to fart on a celebrity and have the other capture the moment in a photograph. 

They did a deep-fake video of Trump that they released today. It's not brilliant, but it is funny and sorta immature. Hopefully, it will  irritate the people we like least these days. 

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Six

On the sixth day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me

Six Footie Jerseys
Five musicians from San Antonio known as the Sir Douglas Quintet
A four-part Japanese life strategy (as told by our man in the OBX)
Three 80's Baseball Sports Looks
Too Many Entries
and a Cameo That Will Go Down in History

What do you get the guy who has everything? I know that's the thought running around your brains when you think about me. So in the spirit of the season, I'm here to give you some ideas from the footie world. Altruistic all the way down, I am.

I've even started on the list, saving you from having to get all six. My Liga MX kit is taken care of after my Xolos jersey showed up a few weeks ago.

You know about my favorite Premier League (for the moment) side. Fulham are currently perched precariously above the drop zone, 17th of 20 teams, having won twice in 11 games. But their gaffer, Scott Parker, is inarguably the best-dressed manager in the league, and they've shown real improvement over the past month. I'm not backing them to stay up just yet, but I'm sayin' there's a chance. I've got a jersey from several years back because my youngest is an excellent, if moody, kid, but it's a bit form fitting (thanks, Kappa!), so you could send either of these 2020/21 tops my way:

I've never really settled on a favorite Serie A side. I was partial to Roma for a while because they were owned by a Bostonian named Jimmy Pallotta and featured the legendary Francesco Totti. Because of my longtime Red Sox fandom, I reflexively hate Juventus, with their Yankee-like hegemony over the league and acquisition of Cristiano Ronaldo. But within the past month or so, I found new love. Diego Maradona's passing gave me occasion to dig into his history. His relationship with the people of Naples, as chronicled in the excellent documentary, Diego Maradona, was remarkable. I've long admired Napoli's swashbuckling style of play, and their manager, Gennaro Gattuso, was a snarling pit bull as a player - a defensive midfielder I admired. And then Napoli busted out these kits in the first game after Maradona's passing as an homage to the Argentinian's national team jerseys:

Closer to home, my MLS rooting interest is a function of geography. D.C. United are a storied side, boasting the second-best haul of MLS Cup trophies, trailing only L.A. Galaxy. Those four cup wins are increasingly ancient history, with the last of them coming in 2004. And they dismissed my guy Ben Olsen after ten mostly mediocre (and definitively undermanned and underinvested) years. But we don't get to pick our teams from the top of the deck (unless we're Yankee fans), so Vamos United.

My family lived in Germany for three years, so you'd think I'd choose a Bundesliga rooting interest from one of the teams nearest to Stuttgart, where we were based. But Mainz, Hoffenheim, and Eintracht Frankfurt never stirred my footie passions. No, much like my initial support for Fulham was based on the club's history of successful American players, I support Borussia Dortmund because of Christian Pulisic. And now Gio Reyna (Did you see the goal he scored yesterday? An American did that? Holy shit. We're winning the World Cup.). It doesn't hurt that Dortmund are the Red Sox to Bayern Munich's imperious Yankees. Their kits are pretty dope, too.

As for as Ligue Un goes...ah, fuck it. Nobody cares about the French.

But Spain is an entirely different story. I do love Lionel Messi, and I do despise Real Madrid, but Barca isn't my team. I back Athletico Madrid for their gritty workmanlike style and their permanent underdog status in their own city. Diego Simeone might be the world's best manager, and young Portuguese forward Joao Felix is one of the best players in the world. Los Colchoneros currently sit atop La Liga, though yesterday's dismal performance against Real Madrid was bleak. Their kits haven't changed much over the years, so I'll take one of these classic models:

I wear a men's medium. Eleven shopping days until Christmas. You guys are the best. Merry Gheorghemas.