Wednesday, August 30, 2023

Fusion Ain't Just for Oppenheimer

Been a minute since we posted about ground-breaking food innovation/disgusting culinary adventurism. That one tipped the scale of intrigued to explosive vomit well towards the latter. This week, though, as I wandered into my local Giant in search of coffee grounds near closing time (because you wouldn't like me in the morning without caffeine), I saw a sign advertising this:

For the layperson, that's the Hissho Sushi Bahn Mi Inspired BBQ Roll. And this time, I'm very intrigued.

I love Banh Mi sandwiches. Even crappy Banh Mi tastes good. The best of it will transport a soul to French Vietnam, minus all the inconvenient colonialism and such. I had a sublime version from a food truck in the District back in the day, and it's hard to beat the stuff you can get in and around Eden Center in Falls Church. (Note to self: been a minute since we went to Eden Center - maybe should work on that.)

I also love sushi, barbecue, and Jack Daniels (hard to tell by the picture, but the roll includes Jack Daniels' pulled pork). I really don't see how this can miss. 

Usually, we'd assign this to The Marls, our Director of Culinary Extremism. But I don't have anything better to do, and I'm willing to take one for the benefit of the Family Gheorghe. 

Watch this space for updates, and wish me luck.

Monday, August 28, 2023

I read two books!

I read Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead a while ago because Dave suggested it.  It was great so I read the sequel, Crook Manifesto, while on vacation.  It was great too, sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, other times chillingly evil.  Both books read like screenplays and Dave said Netflix should turn them into a series.  He's right.  We're currently figuring out who to cast but we agree on Eddie Murphy for the lead.


via GIPHY

I polished Crook Manifesto off in two days and followed it up with Underground Railroad, another SoD (and maybe OBXD) recommendation (from 2016, I need to keep up).  It was not at all laugh-out-loud funny but it was often chillingly evil.  I am not eager to write about literature given the much greater qualifications of the Daves on staff here.  However, I am comfortable opining that Underground Railroad is an incredible piece of writing.  Each chapter is either a new setting with a new vibe or an eight page backstory of a secondary character.  The main character rides the underground railroad (which in this novel is literally a railroad under the ground) to different destinations.  As the first stationmaster tells her, "The problem is that one destination may be more to our liking than another .... You won't know what waits above until you pull in."  Sometimes it reads like Brave New World, other times it's like Blood Meridian, there's a chapter like The Lottery through the eyes of Anne Frank, a smattering of Sula and maybe Beloved at the beginning, then it feels like Animal Farm for a few minutes and then it hits your stomach with a crowbar at the end.  But throughout it's a horror movie, just nonstop dystopian misery.  It's a must-read.

Friday, August 25, 2023

Fresh Friday Music, Nostalgia Style

Good morning, gheorghies. Good morning, lescoolies. No, that wasn't your browser on the blink again.

More good music to throw your way for a weekend. My friend Ned and his video design chum worked some real magic on a tune that conjures up old images for me.

I've highlighted my old growin-up buddy Ned Henry 'round these parts here before. In March of last year, his dad passed at age 95, a couple of years after his mom had left us unexpectedly. His folks -- Bucky and Barbara -- were truly amazing... 15-20 years older than most of my friends' folks, they were grandparently, congenial, hospitable, in on every joke, and always quick to whip up a mean breakfast when I woke up on their couch with a hangover at age 17. They seemed never to age, and my memories of them in their 80's and 90's conjure nearly identical images of them in their 50's and 60's when they lovingly took care of "The Whit."

In 2016, five of us from the old gang took Ned's mom, a William and Mary alum from way back, to a Jimmy Buffett (Ned's fave) show in a limo. Say what you will about Buffett, but that experience -- especially now knowing what lay in store soon thereafter, is a memory we all will continue to treasure.  Especially because COVID stole our good buddy Bill a few years later. 

At the show, I offered to hoist Mrs. B up onto my shoulders so she could see, but I was shot down. I mean, you can see how diminutive she was!

Plastic cup chalices...

She frequently chugged around town in a baby blue 1965 Mustang with a big smile. You saw her coming a long way away, and that was probably for the best, safety-wise. 

Anyway, this year Ned and his siblings took on the job of finally going through the old house and his folks' belongings. Unenviable a task for reasons of sadness as well as burden; when I asked Ned how long his family had lived there, he pondered, "Since the Kennedy administration... maybe Eisenhower." Whew. It just sold last month... God bless the new owners and the work ahead of them.

Just before the house went on the market, I woke up one June morning to a belated flurry of texts from Ned and his little brother, both back in town to sift through Henry trash and treasures, imploring me to come meet them out in the old neighborhood. They had been boozing on gin and tonics and blaring the Violent Femmes. They texted that flare sometime after midnight. Somewhat surprisingly, I was already sacked out and caught it on the flip side. 

But that didn't stop me from listening to them wax nostalgic and a bit plaintive the next morning, and right thereafter, I sat down and scratched out some lyrics to a song I then offered up if he had any interest. To his amazing credit, as soon as he got back to New Orleans he had figured out the music and was laying down the track. He tweaked my words just a touch and made me feel really good about the thought. He's a great dude. 

Ned released the track a few weeks ago and had a Crescent City cohort expertly compile a video with footage from the old neighborhood, Ned's NOLA home, and some photos of the old days. At the 1:46 and 2:54 marks you can see a few long-lost pics of a big galoot with his whole life ahead of him...

Anyway, if you feel like it, check out Ned, old Unit 11 (the Mustang), and our collaboration in this here music video.


Thursday, August 24, 2023

Poetry Up Your Ass

It's been a while since we celebrated poetry around these parts. Last time we tried, some of you troglodytes found it less than macho. I trust you've all grown up. Ish.

As you know, I went to my first poetry reading a few weeks ago. Enjoyed this up and comer, who goes by k. Just k. You'll need to turn the volume way up, because the videographer isn't very good and videographing.

Here's "Broad Broad Broad":



And this one is entitled "Incantation for the Changing of the Seasons":



Wednesday, August 23, 2023

Let Me Clear My [Long-Assed] Throat

As reported by "Good Morning America" and other sources, Brights Zoo in Limestone, Tennessee is leaving the task of naming of a highly rare baby giraffe to the general public.  Sort of.

The giraffe's rarity owes to its spotlessness. No, not like Rob's arrest record or Zman's car floor -- it's stark lack of the same brown spots that its parents bear. It's the sort of thing that makes a father perk up and ask the mother where the hell she she was 15 months ago. (Sad answer: necking in another pasture.)

This adorable, spot-free giraffetus popped out on July 31. 

According to Brights:

"She is the only solid-colored reticulated giraffe living anywhere on the planet."

I had to check on that reticulated part. Yeah, the only one without spots. Nothing weird, people. 

But it is odd! Let's name her!

Oh, wait... you're simply choosing from four names predetermined by the zoo. Vote before September 4 on their Facebook page if you'd like. 

Your choices:

The names and their meanings in Swahili are below:

  1. Kipekee - Unique
  2. Firali - Unusual or Extraordinary
  3. Shakiri - She is most beautiful
  4. Jamella - One of great beauty

Vote today. 

For posterity, here are the Top 10 Names Not Selected as Finalists for the Baby Girl Giraffe with No Spots:

10. Plain Jane
 9. Spopposite
 8. Rudolpha
 7. Destiny (full name: Destined for Therapy)
 6. Teaneck
 5. Babs' Uvula
 4. Uneque
 3. Browntown
 2. Semigazelle
 1. Reticulaura

Write one of those in if you wish...

Tuesday, August 22, 2023

Hurricane Filler

On Friday, with Hurricane Hilary bearing down on southern California, the New York Times ran the following headline and image:


Sandbags are a good idea if you want to mitigate flooding, but you need enough of them to build a wall against the rising water.  The car in that photo is a BMW Z8, a roadster manufactured from 1998 to 2003.  Only 5,703 were made and they currently sell for around a quarter of a million dollars.  And they have about five cubic feet of cargo room.  This is not the car I would select to haul sandbags, but I guess that's how they do it in SoCal.

I waited to post this until after the hurricane passed--luckily it wasn't too bad so I am comfortable with my snark.  In the future, Californians should review our wealth of hurricane-related content to prepare for wet weather.

Monday, August 21, 2023

Gheorghasbord

Odds, ends, ephemera, as you like it.

Speaking of ends, this is how we concluded our Definitive Women's World Cup Final preview: "The women's game is in excellent shape, and this World Cup has showcased its growth across the globe. There's still work to be done to root out misogynists and creeps, but I suppose that's true of a lot of domains."

Right on cue, creeps Gianni Infantino and Luis Rubiales demonstrated the accuracy of our words. Infantino, tone deaf as ever, gave a speech on the eve of the Final in which he said, "Pick the right battles, pick the right fights. You have the power to change. You have the power to convince us, men, what we have to do and what we don’t have to do. You do it, just do it. With me, with FIFA, you will find open doors. Just push the doors, they are open."

This will come as news to women from multiple countries who are still fighting with their federations to get the pay and World Cup bonuses they've been promised, including but not limited to finalist England, Nigeria, and Norway. Infantino is better than his predecessor, the odious Sepp Blatter, but that's increasingly damning with faint praise. That's just the start of what's wrong with Infantino's patronizing blather.

At least Infantino didn't kiss a player on the mouth without permission. That special moment came courtesy of Rubiales, the President of the Spanish Football Federation, who laid one on La Roja's brilliant midfielder Jennifer Hermoso as the champs were receiving their victory medals. Hermoso later downplayed the incident, and Rubiales apologized for it, saying he was caught up in the emotion of the moment. Fine, I guess. As long as he does the same to Alvaro Morata the next time Spain's men do something of note.

I suppose it's something that the only thing I got right about the Women's World Cup is predicting that men in power would be gross. Evergreen, that one.

Moving on to less gross things sporting, a celebration and a pair of previews of things to come for your edification. 

Prodigious golf talent Viktor Hovland has been the Next Big Thing for a while now. Yesterday, the young Norwegian showed us what all the fuss has been about. The 25 year-old picked up his fifth PGA TOUR win (and 9th title worldwide) yesterday by shooting a final round 61 to come from behind and win the BMW Championship. Hovland shot a combined 14 under par in his final two rounds to finish at -17 and top Scottie Sheffler and Matthew Fitzpartrick. Grabbed a check for $3.6m, too. Decent weekend.

Today, Americans Christian Pulisic and Yunus Musah make their Serie A debuts for AC Milan as they take on Bologna their regular season opener. Pulisic had an up and down four years at Chelsea amidst injury trouble and a parade of managerial changes. He'll be featured at Milan, and needs to take the opportunity to relaunch his club career.

In news closer to home and far more important to Gheorgheworld, you can catch the University of Colorado Buffaloes football squadron on national television at noon Eastern on the first two Saturdays of September. On the 2nd, the Buffs travel to Fort Worth to take on national finalists TCU in head coach Deion Sanders' first game at the FCS level. Then, on the 9th, Colorado hosts Nebraska in the renewal of a once-fierce rivalry. You may be able to catch my kidlet on the television in the latter game. Plan accordingly. 

And finally, got to spend a few hours in the car with my elder kidlet taking them back to school in Richmond yesterday. Not nearly the adventure I had on the road to Colorado, but enjoyable nonetheless. My kid is nothing if not eclectic in their taste, so I got to listen to a whole bunch of experimental noodling and jazz I hadn't heard before. Dig on "You Can't Steal My Joy" from Ezra Collective:


Friday, August 18, 2023

GTB's Definitive Women's World Cup Final Preview

The 2023 FIFA Women's World Cup wraps up Sunday at 6:00 am EST (it'll be 8:00 pm in Sydney at kickoff). The final match pits two of the world's top 10 teams in England and Spain. Neither country has won a World Cup, though both have been knocking on the door. 2023 marks England's third consecutive trip to the World Cup semifinals, while Spain made the semis in 2019.

By most measures, the Australia/New Zealand edition of the tournament has been excellent. There have been more goals than in any previous Women's World Cup. The crowds have been immense and spirited. We've seen significantly more parity than many (this guy included) thought, with a number of big teams out early (Germany, Brazil, and Canada failed to reach the knockout stage, while the U.S. went out in the Round of 16), three African teams (Morocco, Nigeria, and South Africa) in the knockouts, and a surprising Colombian squad pushing England in an entertaining quarterfinal.

No less a legend than Brazil's Marta talked about the parity after her Brazilian side was knocked out in the group stage, saying, "This competition is like a box with so much surprise, [Women's] soccer has become so competitive." This event was Marta's sixth and final World Cup, as she, Canada's Christine Sinclair (who also competed in her sixth event), and the U.S.'s Megan Rapinoe ended long and outstanding international careers when their teams were eliminated.

Notably, this playing of the Women's World Cup may also be, as The Washington Post called it, "the gayest World Cup ever". Or perhaps not all that notably, as The Post notes parenthetically, "(and no one's batting an eyelid)". That the tournament is generating boffo ratings, significant positive buzz, and excellent on-field play while celebrating the presence of proud, out players, coaches, and fans, is a positive sporting step.

The good news for the women's game is that so many brilliant players remain active and showed the world their skill, tenacity, and power. Sam Kerr's story arc was nearly the stuff of movies, injuring her calf the day before her Aussie squad started the tournament, slowly working herself back to full fitness, and scoring this banger to level the Matildas' semi with England, only to fall short.


Linda Caicedo burst on the world stage, the precocious 18 year-old Colombian dazzling with her technical ability and speed. She eliminated Germany with this wondergoal:


England's young Lauren James (sister of Chelsea men's player Reese James) scored three goals and dished out a tournament-leading three assists before a rush of blood to the head saw her stomp on Nigeria's Michelle Alozie in the Round of 16. The act led to a red card and a two-match suspension, so James will be eligible to compete in the final. 

19 year-old Spaniard Salma Paralluelo scored game-winning goals in both the quarters and semis for La Roja, coming off the bench both times.

Japan's Hinata Miyazawa leads the race for the Golden Boot with five goals, and barring a monster game by one of the finalists, will likely win the award. England's Mary Earps is the odds-on

And beyond individual brilliance, the closeness of the women's soccer community shone through as players shared their joy and pain with their friends, teammates, and partners who happened to play for their opponents. Witness, for example, Kerr and England's Millie Bright, who are club teammates at Chelsea, after the Lionesses beat Australia in the semifinals:


One might think that we'd beg off from making predictions after our fairly disastrous pre-tournament prognostication. Right back on the horse, friends. We're warriors. And we did have both finalists make it as far as the quarterfinals, and we had the host Aussies in the semis, so that's, like, good-ish? We did miss on the other semifinalists, which I think is a pretty good indicator of the aforementioned parity. To be sure, we definitely weren't the only wrong-getters.

The final shapes up as a fascinating affair. England are the defending European champions, beating Spain in the quarters along the way. The Spanish currently hold the U17 and U20 world titles, and are stocked with exceptional young players, in addition to two-time Ballon d'Or winner Alexia Putellas. La Roja have had a famously tumultuous recent history, with a significant number of players criticizing manager Jorge Vilda's dictatorial style, and a number of prominent players left off the World Cup roster as a result. In the meantime, England manager Sarina Wiegman just keeps winning - her England teams have lost once in 37 matches. USWNT veteran Sam Mewis, who missed this World Cup with an injury, said recently on a podcast with Men in Blazers' Roger Bennett that she would be rooting for England despite being fond of Spain's players because she doesn't want Vilda's authoritarian tactics to be vindicated. I suspect many others feel the same way. 

In the end, I think England will win, but it'll be a close-run thing. The Lionesses have depth (they've advanced to the final without Beth Mead, Keira Walsh, and Leah Williamson, all members of the 2022 FIFAPRO World 11 side), experience, and the ability to bring a player with James' pace, strength, and skill off the bench to harass a tiring Spanish back line (at least I'm guessing Wiegman will take that approach after her team won consecutive knockout matches without James). But no result would really surprise me after the World Cup we've seen.

The women's game is in excellent shape, and this World Cup has showcased its growth across the globe. There's still work to be done to root out misogynists and creeps, but I suppose that's true of a lot of domains. 

Wednesday, August 16, 2023

College Breakups and Shakeups

The gladiatorial pit with suits that passes for major college athletics has been quite active this summer. In the past month we’ve seen the implosion of a hundred-year-old conference, membership raids, geographic insanity, posturing and threats from within leagues, forecasts of doom, and pleas for national oversight. And that doesn’t even touch on the pie fight between the NCAA and Jim Harbaugh. 

At last count, the Pac-12 Conference was getting affairs in order in advance of last rites. The Big Ten is at 14 schools on the way to 18 and will stretch from New Jersey to Los Angeles and Seattle. The Big 12 is up to 11 schools, headed for 14, and will run from Florida to Ohio to Utah and Arizona. Two of the primo academic and athletic institutions in the nation, Stanford and Cal-Berkeley, are soon to be homeless, though there’s a case to be made that the ACC should partake of the geographic mad-libs and welcome both. 

Of course, all of this is tied to feeding troughs, specifically TV money and revenue distribution from each league’s respective broadcast contracts. The Big Ten and Southeastern Conference are by far the wealthiest leagues. In 2021-22, the most recent year records are available, the Big Ten disbursed $58.8 million to each member school athletic department – several million less to new-ish members Nebraska, Rutgers and Maryland. The SEC distributed $49.9 million per school. Both numbers are expected to mushroom as the Big Ten adds Southern Cal and UCLA, while the SEC adds Texas and Oklahoma, and both conferences have new TV contracts in the next couple of years. Meanwhile, the ACC distributed approximately $39.4 million per school. That number will increase, but only incrementally, and the league’s present TV deal runs through 2035-36. The Big 12 distributed between $42-44.9 million to its members in 2022, though that number is likely to be diluted as the league adds BYU, Central Florida, Cincinnati and Houston for the coming year and several Pac-12 refugees ahead. 

Unlike the other three conferences, the B12 does not have its own dedicated TV network. That revenue gap is untenable, say a handful of schools not in the Big Ten or SEC, and will make it increasingly difficult to compete for championships. Though I’d argue that supposedly “underfunded” Clemson and Florida State remain a heck of a lot closer to competing for football championships than Indiana and Mississippi State, no matter how much more money the latter bring in. 

Revenue uncertainty and the widening gap prompted the current round of realignment. The Pac-12, by most accounts, botched its broadcast negotiations and network distribution and whatever plans existed in swift and stunning fashion. A buddy and former newspaper colleague opined that the Pac-12’s demise will be studied in business classes and have books written about it. Colorado began the exodus, opting for the Big 12. The Big Ten, eschewing collegiality and tradition, then poached Washington and Oregon. Smelling blood, the Big 12 threw lifelines to Arizona, Arizona State and Utah. Suddenly, the Pac-12 was down to four, and whatever collective comes next is anyone’s guess. 

The SEC remained on the sidelines this go ‘round, with Texas and Oklahoma in the bullpen that brings membership to 16, but rest assured its accounting beavers are busily vetting and parsing myriad expansion combinations as the Big Hats contemplate their portion of world domination. 

Which brings us to the ACC. There’s been no movement, but plenty of noise and smoke. Florida State, notably, is and has been the whiniest kid in the playpen. The Seminoles have believed for years that they and their football program haven’t been sufficiently rewarded for carrying water for the conference, that their accomplishments and profile merit a larger piece of the revenue pie. 

To be fair, several schools have proposed some kind of performance-based revenue sharing plan (the ACC presently distributes equal shares to all members, save Notre Dame because of its football independence). ACC brass hasn’t signed off on a tiered distribution plan, but will implement a so-called “success initiative” for football and men’s hoops – extra millions here and there for good work. That doesn’t mollify the Seminoles, whose prez said earlier this month that the school would have to seriously consider leaving the ACC without revenue overhaul, to a chorus of ‘amens’ and tough talk from the Board of Trustees. 

The proper response is: and go where? The Seminoles fancy themselves a national brand attractive to all, but they bring nothing to the SEC that the conference doesn’t already possess. Also, folks in Gainesville might like a word about the prospect of elevating a state rival with no commensurate value. The Big Ten may want a presence in Florida, but it’s about to be an 18-team, coast-to-coast conference and likely wants to acclimate to its new footprint. In addition, Big Ten schools take their academic chops seriously (most are certified members of the American Association of Universities, which signifies lofty research and innovation tracks), and FSU is not credentialed within that group. The Big 12 would be a lateral move, at best, and likely a step down in terms of revenue distribution, given its own expansion. 

And then there’s the cost of departure from the ACC. The exit fee is three times the average annual distribution, so three years at $40 million per is $120 million. Schools also signed off on something called Grant of Rights, which transfers a school’s media rights to the league. That agreement runs the length of the TV deal, through 2036. All told, bolting the ACC would cost north of $500 million. Unless the Saudis decide that American college football would be a swell complement to professional golf and soccer, and a school located within shouting distance of the Redneck Riviera would be a dandy cornerstone, Florida State is going nowhere. 

Florida State’s lawyers have studied the Grant of Rights for loopholes, as have other ACC schools, as everyone attempts to read the tea leaves and gird for what’s next. Short of a mass walkout, highly unlikely bordering on reckless, the league will remain intact for the foreseeable future. It’s the “foreseeable” part that’s the mystery. 

Enter Stanford and Cal Berkeley and SMU, objects of recent expansion discussion by ACC officials. The two California schools will soon need a home and would like to remain power conference competitors, while SMU has had its nose pressed against the major conference football window for years. 

Geographically, none of the three make an ounce of sense in the ACC. But the good sense ship sailed long ago. It’s about conference viability and money. Each new member means an additional year’s revenue payout, according to the TV contract. The ACC Network suddenly has footholds in California and Texas, which will bring in additional revenue, depending on ESPN’s negotiations with providers in those states. The new members won’t receive full shares of annual payouts for several years, and SMU, with its deep-pocketed donor base, reportedly offered to take zero conference money for at least five years. All of that could add up to as much as $200 million extra for the league over a number of years, money that might translate to several million per school each year or be funneled into the success initiative. 

According to multiple reports, the ACC fell one vote shy of the 75 percent (12 of 15) required for expansion, though discussions remain ongoing. Reasons for the rejection are unclear, sitting somewhere between geography and travel concerns, and more selfish motives that may allow more flexibility for the next round of realignment. Among the arguments by expansion proponents is “safety in numbers” – that the larger and more stable the conference is, the better positioned it will be if or when the next shakeup occurs. A stronger safety net for the Wake Forests, Boston Colleges and Georgia Techs and less attractive expansion targets. ACC Commish Jim Phillips, among others, has taken the position that, while they don’t distribute Big Ten or SEC money, there’s nothing wrong with being No. 3, and it can’t be all about accounting. 

If nothing else, this summer has further confirmed the hypocrisy that major college athletics is an “amateur” endeavor and that athlete welfare is a priority. It’s a cash grab that will see more kids traveling across multiple time zones to compete. The solution is as simple as it will be difficult to execute. As others have suggested, top shelf football needs to separate from the overall college athletic model. It needs its own governance, its own TV negotiations and contracts, its own scheduling. Smart money points to a future model comprised of a super league or two, and the top 50 or so programs, with everyone else finding their own level. 

We’re already part way there with the SEC and Big Ten. If they want to play coast-to-coast, big-boy football and the money’s there (which it apparently is), go for it. But don’t drag the rest of the athletic department along. Permit the other sports to play more regional and reasonable schedules. That’s liable to be a hard ask for athletic directors and school prezes and conference commissioners, to cede some level of control over their biggest moneymaker. It won’t fix college athletics, but it might restore a sliver of sanity. These days, that may be the most we can hope for.



Monday, August 14, 2023

Emergency Absurd Filler

With news coming out of Fulton County, GA that the grand jury investigating That Fucking Guy's conduct in the wake of the 2020 election is voting on potential charges, we're poised for a couple of the stupidest days online in recent memory. Which is saying a whole fucking lot.

In preparation and to let you focus on things whimsical, here's a song to get your head straight.


Please feel free to add your favorite absurdities to this thread-starter.

Saturday, August 12, 2023

Accent on the Funny

In one of those occasional coincidences of randomized music enjoyment, Ive heard "Outfit" by Drive-By Truckers and Jason Isbell (the latter's live version) several times over the past few days. The song has an admonition from a father to a son that goes, "Don't worry about losing your accent/A Southern man tells better jokes". Which is a lovely segue into today's topic.

I stumbled quite haphazardly across Corey Ryan Forrester during the early days of the pandemic. If you looked at him, and listened to him talk, you'd make some assumptions. You'd miss by a mile, too. The Chickamauga, GA (home of Marjorie Taylor Green) native is a deft comedian, an unabashed liberal, open about his mental health issues, and a thoughtful essayist.

Here's his alter ego, wrestling champ The Buttercream Dream on the topic of mental illness:


Here's a bit from a show in Denver a few years back:


And finally, another character, this one a Southern politician:

Forrester is part of a cracker comedy collective known as WellRED Comedy, which also features Trae Crowder and Drew Morgan. The Bitter Southerner did a recent story on the group that's both a good history and an insightful look at their complicated relationship with their heritage.

I don't know much about Morgan, but I've gotten into Crowder's stuff after finding him through Forrester. He's reliably excellent online in talking about hypocrisy in conservative politics, as you can see here.

He's also the headliner of the WellRED team's tours, where he brings the funny:

I guess Southern men do tell pretty good jokes. 

Thursday, August 10, 2023

Trippin'

A lot of folks I spoke to in the run-up to my cross-country car trip expressed surprise and even concern that my daughter and I were making the run from Leesburg, VA to Boulder, CO. I confess to being a bit confused by this reaction. I get to spend three days alone with my kid and see parts of the country we'd never seen? Cool! Sign me up.

Maybe I'd have gone for one of those fancy Sprinter vans or something, instead of a 2013 Hyundai Elantra with 142,000 miles and a non-functioning driver's side sun visor, but that's just a quibble. "Jean", as the car is known, was a champ. And so was my kid.

Here's the way it went down:

Leg One: Leesburg, VA to South Bend, IN

This was the longest of our three legs, weighing in at 569 miles. The costliest, too, as the EZPass folks stung us for $32.42. We hit the road at 6:24 am, looking sprightly, though my kid slept for the first three hours because she has a habit of not sleeping if she has an early wakeup call.


We took Route 15 to Route 70/76, passing through a little bit of Virginia before traveling across Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Ohio before entering Indiana. Made our first stop at a rest area just over the Pennsylvania border in Ohio for gas and a wee potty break.

We stopped for lunch at 1:08 at a rest stop somewhere in the middle of Ohio. It was under construction, and the only fresh food option was Hardees. I settled for a packaged turkey and cheese sammich, because Hardees. Grabbed some spicy pickle chips, too, and proceeded to spill most of the juice on myself. Pretty disappointing effort.

The kidlet drove the rest of the way, and we caught some pretty heavy rain entering South Bend. Put a serious kibosh on our plans (my plans, really - the kid would've been happy to vegetate in the hotel room) to wander the Notre Dame campus. I've got some letters to write, because my daughter was nonplussed with the road conditions in Ohio. 

Hampton Inn, bringing the funny

We arrived at 3:51, a total elapsed time of 10:17, including three stops.

For entertainment, we listened to a playlist I made, then a chill country-ish playlist of my daughter's making, and a punk/emo vibe to bring us into town. We supped at O'Rourke's (it's a solid Irish pub) in the shadow of Notre Dame stadium, then toured the athletic campus (My Lord in Heaven, but their football practice facility is absurd) in a futile attempt to roll up to Touchdown Jesus. We could see him, but we couldn't figure out how to get close. The Lord, it seems, had forsaken us.

Leg Two: South Bend, IN to Omaha, NE

We got up to watch the second half of the USWNT/Sweden match, and jumped in the car at the end of regulation so we could listen to the rest, hitting the road at 7:08 am after a stop at Biggby for coffee and iced chai. We heard to the overtime/shootout in a driving rainstorm that let up about when we crossed over into Illinois.

If we didn't want to, we could've made the entire trip without taking a turn, once we left South Bend. We took 80 West the whole way, fast and flat.

We stopped in Grinnell, IA for lunch and to celebrate the three-point shot.


We listened to 'Car' - the cleverly-titled playlist Whitney made - and a One Direction playlist of my daughter's design, where I failed repeatedly at identifying which of the lads were singing.

My daughter, who I learned is an aggro driver, took the last shift again, and brought us into Omaha at 2:30 pm local time. 541 miles knocked out in 8:22.

We stayed across the street from Charles Schwab Field, where the College Baseball World Series has been held since 2011 - the banners from the 2023 event are still hung.

The area around the stadium is clearly in the midst of a revival, with a number of baseball themed bars and restaurants mixed in with coffee shops, new-looking apartment complexes and a handful of hotels. 

Took a quick tour of Creighton University, which was about six blocks from our hotel. It's kinda meh. We had a good dinner at Blatt (named in homage to Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium, where the CWS used to be contested), which included a quite good hazy IPA called Fairy Nectar from Kros Strain Brewing in La Vista, NE. On our way to dinner, my kid and I raced up the steps at Schwab. She won. Gonna chalk it up to not wanting to fall on my face or dirty my new Air Max 90 Terrascapes.

Leg Three: Omaha, NE to Boulder, CO

We watched some of Australia's 2-0 WWC win over Denmark, grabbed a cuppa from Rally Coffee (much recommend), and hit the road at 7:08 am for the second day in a row. If it ain't broke, and all that.

My kid is not one that laughs easily, and her default mode where I'm concerned is eyeroll. So I was pleased in no small measure when I made her laugh out loudly at length by inventing the International Symbol For...which was a derivation of a long-ago birthed signal for getting free chips, no pay at La Tolteca in Williamsburg. That laughter might've made the whole trip worth it.

I'm an excellent photographer
We took 80 West to 76 West to 36 into Boulder. Nebraska was much more interesting than I expected, replete with lakes, rivers, creeks, museums, wide open spaces waving green and gold.

Stopped for lunch at a Wendy's in Oglalla, NE, right before we crossed into the Mountain time zone, because we needed to pee. I had a ghost pepper chicken sandwich that was flavorful and actually hot, unlike so many mass market 'spicy' foods. Made my eyelids sweat and all.

After much debate and a small wager, we saw the Rockies for the first time about an hour from Denver, at which point we played Rocky Mountain High at my kid's request. We sang loudly and not particularly well.

The scenery changed almost immediately as soon as we crossed into Colorado, the flat of Illinois, Iowa, and Nebraska heaving up into spectacular vistas. Gorgeous.

We switched from music to podcasts on this leg. Heard the latest We Defy Augury, a silly and funny episode of the Try Guys podcast, a couple Smartless episodes, and an interview of Niall Horan by Zack Sang. 

Like the first two days, the kid took the final shift behind the wheel, and we rolled into Boulder just after 2:00 pm local time. Took us 7:52 to traverse the 555 miles from Omaha. Ate at a little joint on The Hill, which is CU's bar district, and relaxed. 

All in all, it was a remarkably easy trip, and my kid and I had a really excellent time together - that ain't always the case between two stubborn people. To be honest, the only thing I really worried about when others expressed concern about the length of the trip was whether we'd spend 1,655 miles and 26 some-odd hours in a car together in silence. I needn't have worried. 

We'll probably get to do that trip a few more times, since we'll need to get that car back and forth from Colorado to Virginia for a couple more years. I'm sure we'll hit some headwinds in future journeys. But I'm feeling blessed to have had that much time with my little girl, and eager for the next opportunity.

Tuesday, August 08, 2023

Teaser Filler

Turns out you can see the Rockies for the first time on Interstate 76 when you hit Exit 49 for Painter Road in Weld County. That's about 130 miles into Colorado from Nebraska, and 50 miles or so from Denver. From the beginning of our road trip, my kid said we were gonna play a specific song as soon as we saw the mountains. And so we did. 

Here's a teaser for the travelogue to follow:

Friday, August 04, 2023

Great Moments In Local Advertising (NY/NJ Metro Edition) - A zman and Marls Joint, Alternatively Titled "Marls and zman's personal Chinese Democracy"

You've been waiting years for this one and now seems like the time to let it rip.

A recent G:TB comments discussion involving the classic Jhoon Rhee Tae Kwon Do commercial (featuring FoG:TB Chun Rhee delivering the now famous "Nobody bothers me either!" line) prompted Zman and me to go down a rabbit hole of local ads from our childhood in the NY/NJ metro area.


zcommentary is in blue.  I had a blast exchanging these vintage ads with Marls.  We dug up some serious gems.  It started as a 10 Best list so of course it now has something like 12 entries.

The Nevele:


This was a great pull by Marls.  I recognized the song the minute the beat dropped, and it's a pretty bangin' disco beat.

Mount Airy Lodge:  Have a fling in the spring in the Poconos!


The Nevele reminded me of another resort commercial, beautifuuuuuul Mount Airy Loooodge.  Although the Nevele had the harder beat, the Mount Airy Lodge ad makes it clear that it's the place for lovers to make their lovin'.

Children's Aid Society:


Hands down my favorite pull of the text exchange, Marls always adds value.  I recognized every second of this ad, including the girl who starts singing poignantly at the 0:30 mark, because I used to get psyched when it came on.  It made me wish I got some children's aid and it still swings.  No idea why no one combed their hair before filming though.

Coronet Baby Furniture:   This one features the tag line "no talking orangutans" which Z mentioned in the aforementioned Jhoon Rhee discussion.  TR and I may have been the only ones to pick up the reference, but nevertheless, these commercials are classics.  Low production values, porn staches, and cheesy outfits all scream Long Island in the mid-80's.  Um, when was the last time you went to the Island?  There are plenty of guys out there with the same staches and Mets Starter jackets they were rocking when this ad first aired.

Grand Hotel (aka TWICE MORE!!!):


Another gem.  Every class evaluation I wrote at W&M included "I loved it, I'm going to take this class two more times as soon as I get tickets, my husband works in the area."  I guarantee no one got the joke and I still don't care.  I bet this lady knew Doris from Rego Park (but probably not Sapphire, the hidden jewel of the Bronx).

Tommy Tunes:


Undoubtedly my best pull.  Tommy Tunes was the place to go in Bergen County if you were looking to pimp your ride in the 1980s/90s.  The woman in this ad is the epitome of North Jerzy beauty circa 1989.  Marls was so taken with this commercial that he found himself deep in an internet wormhole researching the guy who owned the store.  

Sasson Jeans (Featuring the NY Rangers):

Tight designer jeans, late 70's hockey hair, a disco soundtrack, synchronized skating, off key singing and awkward hand gestures made this ad an instant favorite.  In fact, the slogan "Ooh La La" became a nickname for Ron Duguay - the ranger with the longest hair in the ad.  In his second season with the Rangers, Duguay parlayed his new sex symbol status into relationships with Bianca Jagger, Cheryl Tiegs, & Kim Alexis.  

In related noos, they NY Post is now reporting that Ooh La La is now dating Sarah Palin.  Oh la la how the mighty have fallen.

I remember this one too.  Bamberger's!  Marls will always take an opportunity to dump on the Strangers to the Cup.

The Money Store:


We couldn't do this post without at least one spot featuring Phil Rizzuto for the Money Store.  And how about these interest rates?


Crazy Eddie:


We couldn't do this without Crazy Eddie either.

And nobody beats The Wiz!  This was a great place to buy stuff that fell off the back of a truck, or that was stolen off the back of a truck, or that was old and used but presented to the buyer as a "floor sample."  I bought one such deeply discounted "floor sample" at The Wiz in Paramus, a Yamaha pre-amp for the Unit M stereo (why the hell did we have a Carver amp with no pre-amp?) that survived for maybe two months before self-destructing.  More importantly, their jingle inspired Biz Markie.

Newmark & Lewis:


Seaman's Furniture gets the nod because (1) "See Seaman's first!" was ubiquitous even if no one particular ad is memorable, and (2) it provides context for Phife's line "Bust off on your couch now you got Seaman's Furniture."  Perhaps they're affiliated with Dr. Seaman from a previous post.

Tuesday, August 01, 2023

New Fettermans Just Dropped

We fancy ourselves on the cutting edge of certain social and political trends, which is why so many of our readers come to this space. For example, we were up early on Cocaine Bear and Mumford and Sons, among too many things to count. And let's not forget who introduced the broader populace to John Fetterman - how do you think Stephen Colbert found out about the Mayor of Braddock, PA?

We got the rise of that last fucking guy pretty right, too, burnishing our bipartisan bona fides in the realm of politics.

All of which is preface to this early (but perhaps not too early) look at a newcomer on the political scene who's may have some of the right stuff.

Rep. Jeff Jackson (D-NC) is a first-term Congressman representing North Carolina's 14th Congressional District, a sprawling area that spreads from Charlotte to the Tennessee border. The 40 year-old Jackson is straight out of central casting: handsome, married father of three, holder of a J.D. from the University of North Carolina, and a veteran who served in the Army in Afghanistan and remains an officer in the Army National Guard. Importantly, for the purposes of our interest, he's a very effective communicator who's savvy in the ways of modern social media.

Jackson's straightforward missives on Twitter and other platforms are at once homey, easily understood, and insightful. He does an excellent job demystifying Washington's arcana and calling out hypocrisy (it must be said that he hasn't been on Capitol Hill long enough to get jaded, so we'll keep our eyes open).

Here's a recent example that neatly encapsulate Rep. Jackson's style:

There's a long way to go from freshman Congressman to higher office and greater impact, and we once had high hopes for a fresh-faced North Carolina lawyer-turned-legislator with a great story until that dude turned out to be a creep with a problem keeping his dick in his pants. But Jeff Jackson's got something, says us, and us has a track record.

For what it's worth, we're also keeping an eye on Abigail Spanberger (D-VA), who served in the CIA for nearly a decade and was the first Democrat in 38 years to win Virginia's 7th District in 2019 - that's the same District that Eric Cantor wasn't conservative enough to retain, if it offers any sense of the political talent required for a Democrat to win twice. 

Spanberger recently announced her candidacy for Governor in 2025, meaning she won't seek reelection for her House seat. That makes me nervous, frankly, as the Dems need as many seats as possible, but Spanberger will be a formidable gubernatorial force, and if she's successful in her campaign, she'd be immediately on the short list of 2028 Democratic Presidential candidates. Keep your eyes on the Commonwealth, friends.