Hey, DC, Enjoy Our Festival

Gheorghe: The Blog has a number of active roster members as well as readers who reside in the nation's capital region, or at least did at one point.  Myself included.

To those still there -- hey, enjoy our festival.

By "our festival," I mean the event that was brought to life by someone from my hometown as a way to lift up the sagging spirits and local economy in a way that benefited those that needed it most and unified the region in neighborly love and a give-a-shit attitude massage.

The Something in the Water festival was awesome. 

Virginia Beach's own Pharrell Williams was the driving force behind the festival, which launched in 2019 as a three-day, action-packed mélange of music, artistic expression, youth programming, and neighborhood-building activities. There are music festivals, and then there are events that serve as building blocks for total community formation. This was the latter.

And I missed it. I don't even recall why . . . what a blockhead. It was this time of year, the weather was great, and there were concerts on the beach 25 minutes from my house. My daughters went and loved it. So did my friends. Maybe I figured this was the beginning of a long-standing festival, and that I'd catch it when the artists were more of my favorites.

Who played? Well, Pharrell did, obviously, with his hometown buddy Chad Hugo. And Va Beach's own Pusha T. And Norfolk's own Timbaland. And Missy Elliott, who grew up in Portsmouth. This town can produce some music.

Dave Matthews also played, as did Gwen Stefani, Busta Rhymes, Jay-Z, Diddy, Usher, Travis Scott, Tyler the Creator, and Sir Snoop Dogg OBE. By all accounts, it was great.

To appreciate the value of this event, you have to understand the region in which I live. I won't bore everyone with a history lesson. Well, I definitely will, but I'll give it to you in Cliffs Notes format:

• This region is known as the Birthplace of Colonial America. Williamsburg was a 4-5-year home to a number of us, so we recall that it's not much of a drive to get to where Cornwallis surrendered or where the first permanent English settlement (Lost Colony RIP) began. 
• In 1619, the first slave ship supposedly landed on Old Point Comfort in Hampton, Not all history makes you proud.
• It's worth noting that this happened about 100 yards from the hotel that hosted the Pi Lam Sweetheart formal in the late 1980's and early 1990's. I have the distinct honor of having been a part of not one but two entities officially banned from this hotel for life: the Norfolk Academy Senior Party was there, and we were told never to return. Same went for the fraternity after we put the Best Pledge's head through a wall. 
• Later on, the region was the site of the storied battle of the Monitor versus the Virginia (née Merrimack). Bridge-Tunnel out front shoulda told ya.
• The cities down this way are all named for English people and places. La-di-frickin-da. Norfolk, Suffolk, Portsmouth, Hampton, Yorktown (from Yorkshire), Gloucester, a burg for King William, a town for King James, Princess Anne County, and two capes across the bay, one named for an English king and another for a Prince of Wales. Hell, the state (ahem, Commonwealth, my son) and the beach town here owe their names to the Virgin Queen. (Well, at least she was a virgin in her freshman year.)

History. History. History. Blah. De blah. De blah.

Okay, here's where it gets (mildly) interesting.

• Fast forward to the year of the Russian Revolution. 4,969 miles west, an installation was created to serve the US Navy. It was wartime, and down here we have the deepest natural harbor on the east coast. To date, Naval Station Norfolk is the largest Naval Base in the world. We're the best at superlatives!
• So for 100 years, we're been bringing sailors, seamen, squids, jarheads, frogmen, salty dogs, mariners, SEALs, and seafarers into this region. Many stay post-active duty.
• We also have Langley Air Force Base, Army bases Fort Eustis and Fort Story (where Rob ran during the Shamrock Marathon), a Marine command, 4 Coast Guard bases, a Naval Air Station, and a shit-ton of other military installations -- 15 in all.

• Also, as opposed to the tried and true model of one-city-with-suburbs, we've got Seven Cities. Seriously, that's what we're called. That and Hampton Roads, Tidewater, Coastal Virginia, or the 757. 
• That last one is our latest attempt to name a region that refuses to be named. See what I wrote about it here.

Anyway, Seven Cities sounds like a nifty moniker, but as an economic model, it's utter bunk.

Bored yet? You're about to be!!

See, here in Virginia (and in a number of other states), we operate under something called Dillon's Rule, named after a dude with a good beard and a novel idea that has grown a little shopworn over the last 130 years. According to this article:

So-called “Dillon’s Rule” states, including Virginia, operate under the assumption that localities can only wield powers explicitly authorized to them by the state. That approach has hamstrung cities that wish to solve some of the most pressing problems of their residents. States have voided municipal minimum wage laws, prevented local plastic bag bans, barred the municipal regulation of ride-sharing services and outlawed local family leave policies, to name a few examples. 

Plus sea level rise, according to a William and Mary Law alum. But it's way bigger than plastic bags -- no offense to my good friends at the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. Gun rights. Racial justice. Real change. You can be in the most progressive city or county in Virginia, but whenever we have a General Assembly whose middle name is Lee and a governor who signs vetoes like I sign Chris Chandler's autograph on cocktail napkins in a bar at midnight, good luck with all that.

This rule, either in actuality or by virtue of being used as a cop-out, has exacerbated the Seven Cities thing. Every locality is out for itself. Look, they always were. But now each city is utterly unincentivized to work together, share tax revenues, generate regionalism, and execute innovative economic development that would benefit anyone other than themselves.

Seven Cities, which are really 17 cities and counties in southeastern Virginia. Let's review, obnoxiously. Here's a callous, sloppy look at who we are.

• Norfolk, home to Les Coole, Clarence, Igor, and me. Nah-fuk. Produced Sweet Pea and Dee-Dubs and Bruce and Joe Smith. There's the east side of Norfolk, an "urban center" with folks in areas of chronic high poverty, and there's the whitest side of Norfolk where the money is. Norfolk used to be the epicenter of the region, but the star has faded over a generation. Votes blue.
• Virginia Beach. Vah Beach. Produced Percy Harvin, Gabby Douglas, J.R. Reid, and Ryan Zimmerman. Huge tracts of land. Lots of affluence and swanky domiciles around the oceanfront, lots of pick-up trucks and Let's Go Brandon stickers elsewhere in the city. Was residential and touristy as recently as the 1980's, now has quite a bit of commerce. Uppity fuckers. Whole lotta honk. Votes red.
• Portsmouth. P-town. Virtually no sports stars are from here (save LaShawn Merritt), though they host the Portsmouth Invitational Tournament every year, which is pretty cool. Tiny and with lots of federal land with no serviceable tax revenue, they're always cash-poor. Known as the "armpit of Tidewater" when I was growing up, it has a cool Old Town area and a not-as-cool amount of crime. Fast fact: Patton Oswalt, Missy Elliott, Wanda Sykes, Bebe Buell, Mike Watt, and I were all born in the same hospital in Portsmouth. Votes super blue.
• Chesapeake. The Dirty Chez, as it's known in some places. Hometown of Zo, D. Hall, the Upton brothers, Brian Hightower, and Ricky Rudd. The most countryfied of the Seven Cities. Lotta Navy residents, lotta businesses because land is plentiful and cheap. Dollar Tree HQ, for example. Truck nuts and "more miles of deepwater canals than any other city in the country." That's about as interesting as Chesapeake gets. Votes as bright red as their necks.
• Hampton. Crabtown.  The origin story of Allen Iverson, for fuck's sake. And Tyrod Taylor, Ronald Curry, and a number of others. Small, lots of waterfront, and a Black population near 50%. Always feuding with Newport News. Votes very blue.
• Newport News. "Newpert" News, say the locals. Bad News, but not Bad Newz, the "kennels" funded by NN product Michael Vick. Mike Tomlin, Aaron Brooks, and Al Toon are also from Newport News. What's the story in NN? Building ships. The city doesn't do much at all that isn't tied to Newport News Shipbuilding. Your tax dollars at work, every day. Boring. Slight blue vote advantage.
• Suffolk. "Surprising Suffolk." It's not surprising. It's rural. The guy who played Uncle Phil in "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" is from here, and he might've been an athlete. What's Suffolk about? Peanuts! The Peanut Capital of the World. For real. Mr. Peanut is from Suffolk. I didn't make that up. Votes rather red. 

The Seven Cities stupidly doesn't include Williamsburg (LT and Mel Gray; retirees, college students, tri-cornered hat people, tourists, and townies; red city), Yorktown (Terry Kirby & Chris Slade; stuck in 1781; super red), Poquoson (no athletes you've heard of;  "one of the oldest continuously named cities in Virginia" . . . my, that's stretching; as red as the blood that flows through the arteries of these proud Americans), and other localities, but you get the point. 

Like much of America, we're a melting pot. Lots and lots of seventh generation folks who talk about the good old days. Lots and lots of transplants and imports bringing fresh new ideas and unreasonable expectations. Red. Blue. Purple. Urban. Rural. Military. Civvies. The Southside. The Peninsula. History-loving traditionalists. New-style movers and shakers. A series of twains as permanent strangers. Disagreement. Judgment. Consternation. 

Still a lovely place to live, but you kind of need to have an elbow-bending ritual and a friend with a boat to endure the politics of the place that prevent progress.

But then came Pharrell! And we were happy!

The 2019 Something in the Water festival felt like real change. A hometown kid gone big time was actually coming back and hanging with us. (Okay, so Bruce Smith hangs with us at the Dirty Buffalo, and I saw Allen Iverson sitting outside the Buffalo Wild Wings in Hampton waiting for his ride a few years back.) More importantly, Pharrell was investing in us. 

And it was music and sun and fun and community. The week leading up to the festival had lots of programmatic offerings for at-risk youths and schools and neighborhoods near or below the poverty line. It was art and culture and fun and joy. It was beauty.

It was the beginning of a sea change for this city by the sea.

When I was in Indianapolis a couple of years ago, the ED of the city's Chamber of Commerce told me that he was stunned our region hadn't branded itself as a true music hub. I couldn't agree more. We are a wellspring of popular musicians from way back til today:

• Ella Fitzgerald
• Ruth Brown
• Gene Vincent
• Pearl Bailey
• Clarence Clemons
• Bruce Hornsby
• Seven Mary Three (oh yeah)
• Charlie Byrd
• Juice Newton
• Robert Cray
• Gary U.S. Bonds
• Steve Earle
• Les Coole (you knew that was coming)

And Pharrell, Missy, Timbaland, Chad Hugo, and Pusha T, of course. Why wouldn't we market this? Pharrell was going to be a gateway to a new image, and a new future.

Remember when I said we started tagging ourselves as The 757? Honest to god, I heard more than one regional leader say we needed to pick that moniker because Pharrell wanted it. Wait, what?

But that happened. And soon thereafter the State Corporation Commission announced that we would be getting a new area code down here. 948 on top of the 757. Whoops-a-daisy . . . whoops-a-daisy.

No worries, we were heading in the right direction. And a music festival, of all things, would be the catalyst for regional reinvention!

Except for one thing.  Two things.  Three things. 

1. COVID-19. The pandemic neutralized the 2020 Something in the Water. And the 2021 version as well. My daughters got tickets to the 2020 fest as Christmas gifts. No refund, they simply kicked the can down the road and said, "See you next year, same time, same place!"
2. $$$. Word on the street was that Pharrell took a bath on expenses to put the festival on, and that it might not be sustainable. Ruh-roh.
3. A tragedy made worse. In March of 2021, a young Black man was shot and killed by police in Virginia Beach. He happened to be Pharrell's cousin. I don't know enough to render a judgment, but when the City investigation exonerated the officer, shocking no one, a bit of hell broke loose. And Pharrell severed ties with his hometown, yanking the festival away and sending an open letter to the city, mentioning "toxic energy." He took his ball and went away from home.

Whoops-a-daisy . . . whoops-a-daisy.

There it went. As did the dream. Unity fading. Community returning to its permanently fractured status.

Next week, Virginia Beach is expected to pull out of the local economic development alliance in a move seemingly unimportant, but one that speaks volumes about the "my town over your town, fuck the region" mentality that continues to grow. The Virginia Beach-raised governor has won about as many points with regular denizens as he scored in his much-hyped college basketball career. We are sliding quickly and inexorably back into the mud of low tide.

And the music hub? Eh. All I know is that when our local music venue the Norva opened its doors after two years of pandemic void, there was a much-hyped first act to hit their stage. Limp Bizkit. Wait, what?

So hey, DC, enjoy our festival. It's June 17-19, coinciding with Juneteenth. It's on the mall. The "water" is now the reflecting pool, judging by the amended logo. A handful of the 2019 acts are back, but there are a lot of artists I don't know. Probably good stuff, though. It's not cheap, though. 

Oh . .  . also . .  . I didn't much care for this tidbit I saw on the site. For $50 one-way or $95 round-trip, they offer:

Local Shuttle: We are so happy to be offering direct shuttle bus service from Virginia Beach, VA to Washington, D.C for Something in the Water Music and Arts Festival 2022. It just wouldn't be the same without you!

I gotta say, uh . . . go fuck yourselves. It is without us. You bailed on us. Maybe for valid reasons. But don't throw us that bone wrapped in olive branches and piss on us and tell us it's raining and expect us to lap it up. You're done? So are we.

Oh, and just so you readers know, "The 2022 LOYALTY PRESALE ends today at 10pm." Maybe not a word we want to throw around when it comes to this particular event.

We had our hopes built on something that proved as solid as the coffee table Matt Foley landed on.

Whoops-a-daisy . . . whoops-a-daisy.

Book. Worms.

As the site’s media grump, I’m about up to here with national reporters gathering vital information on our

leaders and our systems, and stowing it for months awaiting some blockbuster book release. The latest addition to the library is from a pair of New York Times reporters, Jonathan Martin and Alex Burns. Their upcoming book, “This Will Not Pass,” is a deep dive into the 2020 election, Donald Trump’s actions during his last days in office, the Jan. 6 insurrection, and the early days of the Biden administration. 

It’s undoubtedly well reported and sourced, and it’s already caused ripples within Republican circles. House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy said that sections in which he was reported to call on the President to resign after Jan. 6 and was critical of Trump were false. After which audio was leaked of him saying exactly that. Senate Republican leader Mitch McConnell reportedly told advisors post-Jan. 6 that “the Democrats are going to take care of the son of a bitch for us,” referring to Trump’s second impeachment trial, and “if this isn’t impeachable, I don’t know what is.” After which McConnell and most of his Republican colleagues voted not to impeach. 

Look, I’m guessing that Martin and Burns didn’t get information in real time. It likely took months to gather documentation and to verify from sources. But they certainly knew about it long before the book’s pub date. And I’d argue that they should have reported what they could ASAP. It’s not only their job, but their duty – to citizens and to the republic at large. 

This wasn’t some insider policy debate that the principals are trying to massage, or an innocent what-I-saw-at-the-White House travelogue. This was a president trying to subvert a free and fair election and to remain in power, enabled by one of the nation’s two major political parties. You report that when you know it, not when you have 400 pages of material. Hell, the book subtitle spells out its importance: Trump, Biden and the Battle for America’s Future. 

Burns and Martin have plenty of company. ABC national correspondent Jonathan Karl’s “Betrayal” came out late last year. In it, he quoted Attorney General Bill Barr that Trump’s repeated claims of election fraud were “bullshit.” Washington Post reporters Carol Leonnig and Philip Rucker co-wrote two books, “A Very Stable Genius” and “I Alone Can Fix It,” the latter about Trump’s final year in office after he sat down with them for an interview at Mar-a-Lago. 

And then there’s Bob Woodward, the Post editor and investigative Hall of Famer who’s written three books about Trump, two himself and the most recent, “Peril,” with fellow Post reporter Robert Costa about the 2020 election, Jan. 6 and the Biden inauguration. I’ve banged on Woodward in this space, when
his book “Rage” came out in the fall of 2020. Trump admitted that he knew COVID was far more serious than he let on during the winter and early spring of 2020, but downplayed the severity because he didn’t want it to hurt him politically or tank financial markets. Once COVID death tolls began to spike, Woodward could have reported what he knew and perhaps affected pandemic response decisions and potentially saved lives. Instead, he sat on the information until the book came out. 

It isn’t as if Trump lies, dysfunction and competence are revelations. There was plenty of daily reporting in the past five years. I’m under no illusion that any of it will change minds. Most of us have reached conclusions about Trump and the present state of our politics. But anything that further opens the curtain to the words and actions of our leaders is not only valuable but necessary. The nation’s framers thought enough of a free press to preserve it in the First Amendment to the Constitution. The press should hold up its end of the bargain, and not just to make a buck from a book.

Rally Round the G:TB Family: The Belated Rock Hall Noms

This one slipped past me in February, not sure why. I'm usually far more prompt about all things Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. No matter . . . the induction announcement is in a couple of weeks, so there's still time. For me to tell you about it, for you to vote.

The following nominees were announced as the pool of candidates for Rock Hall inclusion this year:

• Beck
  
• Pat Benatar
• Kate Bush
• Devo
• Duran Duran
• Eminem
• Eurythmics
• Judas Priest
• Fela Kuti
• MC5
• New York Dolls
• Dolly Parton
• Rage Against the Machine
• Lionel Richie
• Carly Simon
• A Tribe Called Quest
• Dionne Warwick

Whom do you like?

I'll tell you whom the Hall doesn't like: The MC5. This is their sixth (6th) nomination. And I doubt they get in now, unless the RnRHoF opens a side door for them. Early influence or something.

Dolly Parton is the talk of the lot. She graciously bowed out of her nomination, saying she didn't feel she'd earned the right to be in this HoF and that she didn't want to split votes. And then the Hall said sorry, but we're still including you. Way to go, people.

If I were picking, here's my ballot.

• Beck
• Pat Benatar
• Devo
• Duran Duran
• Eminem
• Judas Priest
• Rage Against the Machine
• A Tribe Called Quest

But I don't get a vote . . . wait a minute, I do! So do you! Every day! Go here and cast a ballot once daily.

Below are my predictions. I had last year's class pegged for the most part, but I don't have as good a bead this go-around. Why's that, you ask?

• Dolly Parton may well get the nod, anyway. Stupid.
• This pool has very little ethnic diversity, so Dionne Warwick and Lionel Richie's chances improve. They're both solid picks, but (a) it seems like Diana Ross would get in first, even though she sucks and the Hall is still pissed she blew them off when the Supremes were inducted in '88 (though that wasn't the worst performance that night) and (b) Richie minus his killer Commodores work is slightly thin. But you never know.
• This pool has very little gender diversity, so Warwick's and Pat Benatar's chances improve. I love Pat Benatar, and she's hit for hit with Mellencamp, who got in 15 years ago. (Including what tune they both recorded for a hit? Answers below.) Anyway, women are finally starting to get their due in the Hall, and that helps her. But you never know.
• Rage has a super thin catalog, but they were a force to be reckoned with, once upon a time. Oh, and Tom Morello is on the nominating committee. Interesting.
• Eminem is a lock. Would the Hall dare usher in two hip-hop acts? They did last year . . . sort of. Jay-Z was inducted, as was LL . . . through the side door: The Award for Musical Excellence shall be given to artists, musicians, songwriters and producers whose originality and influence creating music have had a dramatic impact on music. G:TB readers know how I feel about that bullshit. So maybe Tribe gets in. Front door, please. We shall see, Z.
• My locks include the aforementioned Slim Shady plus Beck, and Duran Duran, surprisingly. They have the catalog, the staying power, the fan base, and the hair. Rob agrees with me.

Ultimately, I'm guessing, but here goes:

Go vote! 

Is It That Day Again? So Soon?

Good morning, Sodom and Gomorrah. Good morning, sinners. No, that wasn't your radio set on the blink again.

While that Big Audio Dynamite lyric struck me as appropriate for some weird reason, here's another multicultural band with a fitting song to help you celebrate today. Read along!

And here's the quintessential scene from the quintessential bad brothers of bong. And oldie but a so very goodie.

Toke 'em if you got 'em.

Good Look!

Rob asked for filler...Rob asks, Rob receives. Image taken just a bit ago here at the office lavatory - shared by those "doing business" on the 6th floor. I'm happy to inform that the subject of the photo is not a co-worker.

Discuss! Note - I was doing a #1 at the adjacent urinal. 

Woman Drink Drunk

Not to mix secular pleasures with a weekend of somber religious observation while also using words from the wrong holiday, but I bring you glad tidings of great joy, friends.

On May 13, one of the legendary sketch comedy shows of our time returns for its sixth season. A mere 27 years after its fifth. 

Ladies and gentlemen, accompanied by Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet, I give you:

Watch it, or you will be...errradicated.

The Latest in Beer News

Around the horn in beer, because . . . Beer. It's what's for dinner.

Aggro-rocker Dave Mustaine is "looking for a new company to manufacture Megadeth Beer," according to an article on Blabbermouth.Net. Apparently a French Canadian brewery called Unibroue has produced a couple of brews in Megadeth's honor. One's called À Tout le Monde Ale, and the website says this:

This saison ale was brewed at the request of Dave Mustaine, lead singer of heavy metal band Megadeth. It uses a dry hopping technique and, to date, has the lowest alcohol content of any Unibroue beer. À Tout le Monde Ale honours the mutual passions and friendship of Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine and Unibroue’s Brewmaster Jerry Vietz.

"Lowest alcohol content" and heavy metal . . . two great tastes that go great together. À Tout le Monde, for those of you who didn't take four years of French in high school, means "to all the world," or "to everyone." How very peace and love, Dave.

They did another called Saison 13, which sounds only vaguely different than the original. The article details the red tape that has made Mustaine seek a new partner. But color me surprised that this partnership even existed.

Maybe Lars can team with a Danish brewery for something called Kærlighed og Kram. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Local Norfolk brewery SmartMouth, owned and operated by friends of mine, has been a top dog around here for the last 5-10 years. They raised a few eyebrows around here a few years back when they made a big to-do as they issued something called Saturday Morning Marshmallow IPA. 

Sounds gross, doesn't it? Eh . . . it's actually far better than I thought it would be. Details are here.

It came out in limited release form before, but it's now on tap at the brewhouses and in tall boy cans for distribution. It's worth checking out if you happen upon it, or you can just come down and hang with the Whitdog and I'll snag you some.

Here's the write-up:

If you can recall weekends of watching cartoons while you separated the colorful little marshmallows from your favorite box of cereal, then this brew is for you. We tossed pounds of marshmallows into this batch (toasting some for flavor), then added loads of citrusy and tropical, fruity hops. The result: nostalgically ridiculous.

Definitely odd.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

And finally, you probably should have figured that a Maryland brewing company would come up with this offering at some point, right?

This West Coast Double IPA packs a punch. Citrus and pine notes come together in a higher ABV beer that sneaks up on you. Though it doesn’t come from the west side of Baltimore, we feel like we should warn you……Omar’s Comin’!!

This was released last year by Smoketown Brewing in Frederick, MD, and yep, it's called Omar Comin' (Or Omar's Comin'!, depending on where it's printed. Can says the former.) 

Seems like this should be more dangerous than 8.4 ABV, even though that packs a punch. I doubt that it will take aim at unseating, say, the King of Beers, but if you do come at the king . . . well, you know.

They should shelve this one for a while at the brewery. Just to have a campaign that reads: 

“Spread the word, darling. Omar back.”

Enjoy your beer drinking escapades, and be careful out there. Until the next time...

Gheorghasbord

Excellently diverse selections sure to delight you regardless of your preference in things whimsical.

I started this post as a spinoff of the venerable Fashion is Stupid recurring bit because I came across a story in The Washington Post that was tailor-made for a Food is Stupid take. Old Bay is, let's be honest, okay. It's perfect on crabs (and on crab-flavored potato chips) and pretty good in a Bloody Mary. It's a bit overrated otherwise. That didn't stop the big marketing brains at Old Bay from going one step too far and creating this:

None for me, thanks.

Very close to home, though, I found something that checks a lot of boxes for me. Dynasty Brewing was started in Ashburn, Virginia, just a few miles down the road from my house. About a year ago, they opened an outpost that's almost literally in my back yard, tucked off a side street in downtown Leesburg. I was there celebrating the launch of a buddy's collaboration with Dynasty when I heard angel choirs, saw bright lights, and was drawn to this menu option.

Tiny. Dictator. Bourbon. Barrel. Aged. Stout. I mean, come on. 13.7% ABV, chocolatey and boozy, and now a permanent resident of my beer fridge. Got one in hand as I type this (so excuse any mishtakes). I may have to get the logo tattooed on my person.

Speaking of tattooed, a quick update about the official Senate candidate of Gheorghe: The Blog. John Fetterman is the clear polling frontrunner for the Democratic nomination in the Pennsylvania U.S. Senate race. The former President* and persistent threat to democracy just endorsed TV doctor and obvious quack Mehmet Oz in the Republican primary. The hulking, plainspoken everyman Fetterman would mop the floor with that fraud in a debate. Please make it so.

"When I was in high school, they loved it," she says. "They're like, 'Oh, you're cute; you work really hard' ... But when you get in the professional world and you're outpacing people and you're doing things different, then it becomes a competition and they don't appreciate it. I've heard it all, and this is very typical: 'Are you just trying to overdo it because you're a woman.' No, motherf---er. This is how I am."

That's a quote from Tampa Tarpons manager Rachel Balkovec. She made history this week by becoming the first woman to work as the full-time manager of a Major League Baseball-affiliated team. Her Tarpons won their first game, 9-6, over the Lakeland Flying Tigers on Friday. The Tarpons are 2-1 after taking the rubber match over Lakeland today in Single-A Florida State League action. I commend to you the ESPN article linked above. Balkovec is an impressive human. I'm the closest I've ever been to purchasing gear that's associated with the New York Yankees.

And last, but most certainly not least, allow me to wish a Happy Squirrel Week to all who celebrate.

Your New Neighbor

I have finally figured out how to turn rob and Dave into Build-the-Wall, anti-immigration, anti-globalization, pro-isolation, full-throated Trumpists:  the Joro spider.

That's a little one.  They can be up to 4 inches across.  The Joro spider, or Trichonephila clavata to the cognoscenti, is indigenous to Asia but a bunch of them snuck into a cargo freighter and wound up in Georgia.  According to the Washington Post, they tolerate cold weather and are migrating north, towards Leesburg and eventually Highland Park.  Here's an entomologist's take:

You'll know they're in your neighborhood when you start seeing giant yellow cobwebs on your power lines.

Apparently you will also encounter them while riding your bike, riding a horse, skateboarding, running, walking, really just doing anything outside--you will walk into one of their giant webs and the spider that lives in it will land on your face.  They are big and venomous, but don't worry!  Their mandibles are typically too small to pierce human skin, except for the big females' mouths, and their venom is irritating but not deadly.  You will survive the bite, if not the ensuing heart attack.

There's more!  They can spin a web like a parachute to catch the wind and fly for miles across the land.

On the plus side, they serve as an additional food source for native birds, and will help control other invasive species like the (dreaded) spotted lanternfly.  

Enjoy your time outdoors this summer!

Bump and Grind, It's Good for Your Mind: Whitneypedia

Here's some shit you might not know.

Bruce Springsteen wrote "Hungry Heart" for the Ramones. Which is just awesome. But then he thought he'd go ahead and keep it. And record it. And crush it. Check out this kick ass 1980 version of it.

David Bowie offered Ian Hunter's band Mott the Hoople his song "All the Young Dudes." You know, geniuses like these two guys (and Prince) can do that, what with all the great spare tracks they have lying around. Here's the thing: he first offered them "Suffragette City," and they said, "No thanks, what else you got?" Cheeky little bastards. So they took his second option and made a Top 10 hit out of it. Bowie's unreal.

You can hear the Bowie influence on this, well, in part because you can hear Bowie on it. He sang backup.

You know who covered this tune in 1990? Legendary producer Bruce Dickinson. Well, actually, bad ass Iron Maiden singer Bruce Dickinson. (He never produced, especially not "(Don't Fear) The Reaper" with Gene Frenkle.)

Anyway, Ian Hunter, Mott the Hoople's frontman, had a successful solo career you might know nothing about.

Or do you . . . not?

Perhaps you've heard the cheesy hair metal remake of this song that torched a bar it was so hot. Here's Ian Hunter's 1975 original.

He also was the original behind this song, which you might have heard co-opted by the Presidents of the USA and Drew Carey...

But wait! Hunter's "Cleveland Rocks" came out in 1979. But this song came out in 1977! What gives, dude? Which one is it???

Ian Hunter later said that the real song was the Cleveland version, and that the England version was to satisfy a record label who thought that Cleveland doesn't sell. (They may have had a point.)

Anyway, this next one doesn't have much to do with this theme, except that like Bowie and Hunter, Marc Bolan was a glam rock god. Gone before his time, but he squeezed some juicy stuff into his (2 weeks shy of) 30 years. As Bowie write and Hunter sang, "The television man is crazy / Saying we're juvenile delinquent wrecks / Man I need a TV when I've got T. Rex."

There's little I can show you more brilliant and intriguing than this one. If I've aired it before, please forgive. Take one part T. Rex superstar freakazoid and add in the piano playing superstar for the ages and oh yeah a dash of primo mulleted Fab Four drumming. Make it super weird and also make it one of my favorite T. Rex tunes. (The Femmes did a nice cover in the '80s.) 

Hard not to watch.

You won't fool the children of the revolution, aka the gheorghies...

Now ya know.

Until the next time, listen well and learn a little "useless knowledge," as my father calls it.

Just a Thought That Christmas Is Coming...

 ...or my birthday, or some other reason to do some shopping.

Well, we missed an opportunity. Months ago, the Gheorghe roster agreed that we would try to have a summit at the Washington Wizards game on March 27. While a Sunday night seems strange for a get-together with out-of-town friends, there was a singular occasion for which we would congregate. 

March 27 was Gheorghe Mureșan Bobblehead Night.

As part of the year's promotions, the team produced bobbleheads for what they were calling The Big Three: Wes Unseld, Manute Bol, and our buddy Ghiță.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Life and other crap gets in the way.

Fear not, collectors of things silly and sentimental!  The market for these products is wide open, and here's one avenue through which you can make the Big G bobblehead yours!

Or mine!

Just a thought... and here's a link.

Wrenball: The Hemorrhage

In which an actual professional journalist goes slumming on our beat and finds common cause.

At least they aren’t LSU. That’s about the most charitable assessment of William and Mary’s men’s basketball. After one of the most dismal seasons in program history, the Tribe has seen six players enter the transfer portal, severely testing the notion that “at least it can’t get any worse.”

Four of the top six scorers are gone, including 2021 CAA Rookie of the Year Connor Kochera, and those four played at least 24 minutes per game. A fifth logged 15 minutes a game. Two freshmen and two sophomores are among the departing, so a chunk of what appeared to be the future is out the door. Granted, it’s not as jarring as LSU losing 11 players to the portal and two more to the NBA Draft since Will Wade was fired, but for a program in the basement of a mid-level conference on a competitive uptick that just added several quality teams, the climb becomes much steeper.

Coach Dane Fischer and AD Brian Mann tried to fit the sow with a ball gown in a piece in the Newport News (Va.) Daily Press, my old rag. Mann said, “I still think that Coach Fischer is the right guy for the program and he’s got my full support. What I’m learning about this and hearing about this is that this is not a program in trouble. It’s not about a bad culture. It’s not about a poor student-athlete experience. (The transferring players) are making their own individual decisions. I think Dane has created and built a really strong culture and he cares deeply about our student-athletes. That means a lot to me.”

Fischer said, “The transfer portal is the new reality of college basketball,” and that he views the portal as a means to rebuild the roster. He said that he’s jazzed about the returning players and three incoming recruits. Because what else is he gonna say?

Fischer is correct about the transfer portal as the new reality. Players are emboldened by the new rule that permits immediate eligibility after a first transfer, without sitting out a year. More than 1,000 players have entered the portal so far this spring, which means there’s plenty of options for teams to fill gaps and rebuild. But how many are interested in a program that just finished 5-27, even with ample minutes available? More important, how many qualify and would be a good fit in one of Division I’s more strenuous academic environments? How deftly can Fischer and his staff navigate the new normal?

The jury’s still out on whether Fischer can coach. By all accounts, he’s a quality, likeable chap. He inherited an NBA-level talent in Nathan Knight and the remnants of Tony Shaver’s final team in his first season – a team that, as constructed at the time, would have been a conference favorite and still won 21 games. There was predictable regression in Fischer’s second, pandemic-plagued year, and then this season’s face-plant, in which the Tribe won only four games against Division I opponents.

Which leads us to address the griffin in the room. There’s a through line from former AD Samantha Huge’s ego-driven ouster of Shaver in 2019 to W&M’s present predicament. There’s no way of knowing how Shaver would handle the transfer portal and the changing landscape of college hoops, or even if he would still be head coach three years later. Barring illness or catastrophe, it’s a safe bet that he’d still occupy the Big Chair, if only to continue what he built. He developed a system that made Tribe hoops competitive and relevant after years in the wilderness. He brought continuity to the program, critical for sustained success at a place such as William and Mary, which rarely lands top-tier recruits and for which there are no quick fixes. When he was canned, several players and recruits bolted, interrupting the talent and development pipeline. 

Fischer hasn’t picked up the mantel. Not to say he won’t or is incapable, but his and every head coach’s job is more difficult than just two years ago. Coaches must retain as well as recruit, that is re-recruit their own players, and keep one eye on the transfer portal for potential help and to replace departures, in addition to the usual X-ing and O-ing their way past conference rivals. There’s a Wild West component to the portal, as coaches and programs figure it out. Mid-major leagues are suddenly farm systems for Power 5 conferences. A lot of kids who average 17 points per game for a mid-major are convinced that they can play for Michigan State. And there’s certainly tampering, with Power 5 programs reaching out through back-channels to gauge kids’ interest in transferring up. Many P5 programs would rather fill gaps with kids who’ve already played a year or two of college ball than with a high school recruit. On the flip side, a lot of players at P5 programs who don’t think they’re getting enough run bolt for what they believe are better opportunities rather than persevere. And in William and Mary’s case, sometimes players are just looking for something else, whether it’s better than 5-27 or being closer to home or simply a different environment. This isn’t an old guy lament. I’m all for players having more freedom and for being able to make money from their abilities. While the degree of roster churn is probably greater than most envisioned, it’s simply another result within a microwave society.

I observed a lot of sludge in Tribe basketball over the past 35 years. Good coaches, smart coaches struggled to gain footing. Success was often fleeting. Backslides were jarring. Shaver came closest to consistent success, and it even took him years to hit upon the right mix of playing style and recruiting to that style. Fischer says, publicly at least, that the transfer portal provides opportunities for the program. Spinning it positively is understandable, since he isn’t in a position to say, “it stinks,” and then turn to a potential transfer and say, “but not for you.” The portal feels like one more hurdle for a program that has plenty already.

Catharsis

Filler to celebrate the Baby Yanks' finally qualifying for the 2022 Men's World Cup. They did it by the slimmest of margins, besting Costa Rica on goal differential after losing to the Ticos in San Jose, 2-0, on Wednesday night. As I said on Twitter, "Not a single complaint about how. Just happy that it is. We goin' Qatar." To which BOFOGTB T.J. Quinn responded, "Great paragraph. Until that last bit. It will never not be idiotic."

I choose to believe he's talking about the shambolic mockery that is FIFA awarding a World Cup in a shamefully corrupt way to a nation with no soccer history. 

Bygones.

Here to amuse you, the best moment in recent U.S. soccer history, and a harbinger (hopefully) of things to come:

And here, a touch of the modern, Christian Pulisic's sublime third goal against Panama last week in a game that made yesterday's loss to Costa Rica a blip of a bump of a memory on the way to the World Cup.

Kanye Ain't Shit

Kanye West fancies himself a tough guy. He's coming hard at Pete Davidson for the comedian's relationship with West's ex-wife Kim Kardashian, for example. In the words of Senator Clay Davis, sheeeeeeit. Kanye doesn't know from tough. Check out Taras Topolya, lead singer of the Ukrainian band Antytila:

Unfortunately, the organizers of the charity event scheduled for this evening declined Antytila's offer because they seek to avoid military involvement in the concert. Which is a shame. It's not as if Antytila wants to be wearing helmets and flak jackets at this moment in history. I'm for recognizing their bravery as warrior-poets and taking a side in this conflict. 

Instead, we're left to show a couple of their videos in a very pale homage to Topolya and his bandmates.

And buy their music and tickets to their shows when the world shakes off this lunacy.

Sundays with OBX Dave: A Civil Path Amid Incivility

In which our man at the beach gives Jean-Jacques Rousseau a nickname.

One worrisome aspect of current American society is the gradual ebb of unity and lack of empathy among the citizenry. We can still work up a collective cheer during an Olympiad and a group hug for Ukraine and victims of natural disasters, but for most folks beyond arm’s length – not so much.

Almost two-thirds of Americans (65 percent) think the country is headed in the wrong direction, according to an aggregate of recent polls compiled by RealClear Politics. Only 27 percent think the U.S. is headed in the right direction. The public relations firm Edelman has run an annual “trust barometer” for the past 22 years, surveying tens of thousands of people worldwide. Twenty-six percent said that since the start of the pandemic they’re less trustful of people from other countries, and 22 percent said they’re less trustful of people from other states and regions within their own country. Not asked was how many already were mis-trustful of fer’ners and people outside their circle.

Sixty-four percent said people lack the ability to have constructive and civil debates with others about issues with which they disagree. More than 60 percent think they’re purposely lied to by reporters and the media, government and business leaders. Almost half of respondents said government (48 percent) and media (46 percent) are divisive forces in society. Only 43 percent of respondents expressed trust in American democracy, down five points from last year and 10 points since 2017. Only 40 percent of Americans surveyed think that they and their families will be better off in five years.

Grim as all that sounds, there’s a path forward. It’s not easy, but democracies aren’t potted plants that you can stick in a corner and water now and again. It requires people to hold government and media and business accountable. It means re-establishing trust in our institutions and each other and leaning into our American-ness. Not some tinpot, American Legion, love-it-or-leave-it patriotic litmus test, but a broad, grounded idea such as civil religion – a set of tenets that provides guidelines for being good citizens. 

Civil religion, or at least parts of it, dates to ancient Greece and Rome. Enlightenment-era philosopher and Big Brain Jean-Jacques Rousseau coined the phrase and wrote about it at length in his seminal 1762 work, The Social Contract, whose memorable opening is, “Man is born free, and he is everywhere in chains. Those who think themselves masters of others are indeed greater slaves than they.” For him, civil religion was a way to foster sociability and the embrace of public duties by citizens. The more stakeholders, he figured, the healthier the society. It contained religious underpinnings, as well as the idea that a country’s laws would be administered evenly and fairly, with those who lived honorably happy and those who committed evil punished. It condemned religious intolerance.

Former Harvard and Cal-Berkeley sociologist Robert Bellah conceived of a distinctly American version of civil religion in a 1967 essay. He used John F. Kennedy’s inaugural address as the launch for the notion that Americans have a particular set of ideals, symbols, sacraments and rituals that both distinguish and bind us, often rooted in religion and faith. Liberty, equality, justice and opportunity. Documents such as the Constitution and Declaration of Independence. Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address and Washington’s first inaugural and more recently, MLK’s “I Have A Dream” speech. The Fourth of July and Memorial Day. Free elections and the orderly transfer of power.

JJ and Bellah were under no illusions that it all couldn’t go sideways, depending on who was in power and how ideas were executed. JJ worried that established religions could undercut citizenship and operate independently of societal good. Bellah acknowledged that the country’s history with slavery and race relations and its treatment of Native Americans don’t exactly jibe with routinely invoking God and believing ourselves a Chosen People. He wrote that, “With respect to America’s role in the world, the dangers of distortion are greater and the built-in safeguards of the tradition weaker.”

(Side note: Apologies that this is more dark and dense than what y’all come for to this here digital tree fort. I mean, if you wanted this kind of stuff, you could go to a poli sci lecture at the local community college or tune in to current affairs public radio at 4 a.m. These are ideas and essays that crossed my path, and I have too much free time. I will try to be a better goofball going forward.)

Which brings us to today. We’re divided along numerous lines: economic, ideological, geographic, educational, age. Division and conflict sell, mostly to society’s detriment. If people believe that their voices aren’t heard and their votes are irrelevant, it preserves a minority, moneyed ruling class. Now, if you want to argue that a sprawling, ethnically diverse, multi-cultural nation of 330 million grounded on liberty and a big, fat middle finger to monarchy and divine rule is beyond a cohesive identity, well, that’s a more than fair point. If I’m being honest, there are days when I’m less than optimistic about how it plays out.

But I believe it’s at least worth the effort. We’re better collectively, flaws and all, than fractured and everybody left to themselves like a clothed version of “Survivor.” Otherwise, we’re no longer a nation and more like a loose collection of tribes spread between two oceans. As JJ wrote in The Social Contract: “As soon as any man says of the affairs of the State: what does it matter to me?, the State may be given up for lost.”

Oh No

Yoko Ono is fairly well reviled in rock and roll circles. You know this.

She's given way too much blame for splintering the Beatles. That party line has been somewhat discredited by now, but there's still a bit of conventional wisdom therein.

For those that have seen the amazing Get Back documentarathon, you saw evidence that she could add a divisive element with her very presence (sitting there for hours on end silently as the fifth person amid the Fab Four as they work hard to pretend she's not). You also saw that the infighting of those sessions had nothing to do with her (George whining about Paul being a steamroller; Paul being a fucking unbelievable musical genius and not understanding why George just wouldn't get out of his way; John showing up late every day; Ringo saying not a damn word the entire time, presumably because he quit during the prior album's sessions and the others said no problem, Paul can play drums, too).

For those that haven't seen Get Back, carve out eight hours and watch it. It's gorgeous and marvelous.

Yoko Ono showed some guts going along with nutty John on this project / album cover. Gotta give her that.

And that she tolerated John's Lost Weekend, which is more patient than some people would be. For the unfamiliar, Lennon cruised to the west coast and partied with Elton and Harry Nilsson and even Paul and took up with a young lass (May Pang) for 18 months. Called it a "lost weekend." Pretty bold, dude.

And then they reunited and had a kid, Sean Ono Lennon. You might've heard his music. You might not've. It's not great, not terrible. Which makes perfect sense.

John stopped making music for five years while Sean was a tot to dedicate himself to family. Which must've pissed off one particular teenager super damn mightily. I mean, that one's a tough pill. At least he/we got an all-time great song out of that whole drama.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, John and Yoko released the album Double Fantasy in 1980. It's 50% solid. "Just Like Starting Over" is a quintessential comeback song.

So what caused him to dust off the axe and start making music again? Among other things, would you believe it was hearing a rock?

It wasn't a rock! It was a rock lobstaaaaaaaaaaah!  No, for real. Hearing "Rock Lobster" influenced John to start recording new tunes. Wait, what? Yeah, because, you know, it felt like modern music had finally caught up with the forward-thinking genius that is Yoko Ono and the stuff they were recording 10 years prior. Um, I guess he was hearing what Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson were doing starting at the 6:00 mark of this fantastic, live, must-watch video from way, way back when. (Fred Schneider. Wow.)

Anyway, that album had some great Lennon-penned (Lenned?) singles, each juxtaposed with some . . . interesting . . . stuff from Yoko Ono. Okay, it's tripe, and I've really tried to avoid saying such things about art forms. Truly, there's only one listenable track among them.

"Kiss Kiss Kiss" is actually a cool little number if you like punk rock, and I do. There's some of The Slits in there, maybe even some Tanya Donelly if you turn it down real low and walk in the other room . . . where "Gepetto" is playing. And in true punk form, it's 2:41 long but much shorter. At the 1:40 mark, and you really need to hear it to believe it, most of the instrumentation stops. All that's left are three things:

1. A super high-pitched, possibly out of tune, guitar track
2. The sounds of Yoko Ono feigning (or experiencing) orgasm
3. Yoko's signature caterwaul, as unwelcome as ever

Punk rock, Yoko. But awful. Like really really bad, like unwashable piss stains on her only decent song. Dammit, guys.

The song up until that point is decent enough that it might actually work in the hands of someone else's pipes, to make metaphor gumbo. But it doesn't seem like that's happened yet.

Anyway, you all know the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day that happened later that year. December 8, to be precise. And I won't go into it. except to say two things.

1. John Hinckley shot the President of the United State because he wanted to hump Jodie Foster. He's out of the bin and living in Williamsburg, VA "without oversight." Meanwhile, Mark David Chapman is still behind bars outside of Buffalo, has been denied parole 11 times, and will likely die in prison. I'm oversimplifying it (and being flippant about horribly evil deeds), but society has spoken. Politicians have to take their chances out there, but you don't shoot musical royalty.
2. Frequently beautiful art comes from terrible tragedy. Elton John lost his good buddy in a senseless murder. Out of that misery, he wrote and recorded "Empty Garden," one of my favorite tracks of his. A lovely tribute to his friend. Also, the only Elton song that will ever be played on ORF Rock. (Penny Baker was in the bathroom and I played it without her permission.)

Unsurprisingly to you all, no post about Yoko Ono could possibly be complete without this next one, the Barenaked Ladies tune off their debut Gordon. That album is still a fun listen all the way through, and I first heard it thanks to my good buddy rob who heard it in Canada when he toured the northeast States and a few stops north of the border as the Pi Lambda Phi national rep. He lent it to me in cassette format. (Read: we're old.)

Look how young these cats were.  

"I know that when I say this / I may be stepping on pins and needles (ho, ho, whoa) / But I don't like all these people slagging her for breaking up the Beatles / (Don't blame it on Yokey!)" 

So there you have it. Oh, Yoko. Maligned, mistreated, and mocked meanly. Did she deserve it?

Well, the reason I write to you today, fair gheorghies, is because while I already knew everything I wrote up until this point, I had never, ever seen / heard the clip below. If you watch nothing else from this post, watch this! Watch from the start, but know that at the 1:55 mark, something truly remarkable happens. 

Stay on until exactly one minute later, and watch how the video seems to support that she's singing again, but magically the mic isn't picking up her "sounds"!

Holy shit, that is the worst thing ever. The profaning of a rare moment of Chuck Berry and John Lennon singing a classic tune into the same mic with . . . with . . . with I don't know what the fuck that was. 2 Live Crew were less profane.

The comments on that YouTube track are good chuckles. My favorite: "Imagine being there... witnessing not one, not two, but THREE legends of rock n’ roll!!!  1. John Lennon 2. Chuck Berry 3. The guy who cut Yoko’s mic off."

Welp, now I know. And so do you. In case you ever hear someone saying that Yoko Ono is "misunderstood," "powerful," or even . . . dear God . . . "a genius" . . . well, just send them this URL. It's a dandy. And worth a eye-widening chuckle.  

Enjoy.

Gheorghe: The Blog Adopts a Basketball Player

As most of you know, my friends and I spent over a decade's worth of summers scrimmaging a local High School (Melbourne High) Basketball team. I played some AAU for their Head Coach and he liked the idea of grown men (most of which played some level of College Basketball) kicking his team's ass throughout the summer. It toughened them up and, often, humbled them. For us, the chance to get in a good 2 hour run once a week against talented 17-18 year old kids was a great opportunity. The competition was good and there's nothing like pickup games with a group like this school regularly boasted to keep you in shape.

This was/is a very good program. They won more than a handful of District and Conference titles during this span, as well as 4 Final Fours in Florida's largest classification. Not surprisingly, they've sent a bunch of kids off to play in college at various levels. Even a decent number to Division 1. But most of those were places like Winthrop, Rice, etc. They also sent a ton of kids to the local Junior College- Eastern Florida State University (formerly Brevard Community College). Eastern Florida also has a great program. They're regularly ranked in the JUCO top 10 and have made a couple of JUCO Final Fours themselves. 

A few years back, Melbourne had one of their best teams in a while. Their PG was a rising senior who'd started on a Final Four team as a sophomore. They also had a big kid (also a rising senior) that was getting some looks. To be honest, I didn't see it. We'd been scrimmaging this kid for two summers and he didn't seem like anything special. That is until that last summer. I can vividly remember him catching a rebound in the air with one hand and emphatically flushing it on one of our big guys. A couple of us looked at each other like "Where the fuck did that come from?". To be clear, the kid always had ability but seemed indifferent and like one of those big guys who plays because, well, he's big. I can also remember the PG openly motherfucking him during scrimmages. As a PG who played with bigs who needed motivation from time to time, it's a great strategy. Get them pissed off at you so they'll play hard to prove a point. But I digress.

Fast forward to the season and Melbourne is kicking the shit out of everyone around here. They cruise to Conference and District titles and (in an upset) the big kid wins Area Player of the Year over his teammate. To be clear, he deserved it but it's not something that anyone saw coming even 6 months prior. Melbourne would advance to Regional Finals to take on Bartow and McDonald's All-American (and current Chicago Bull) Tony Bradley. And what do you know? Melbourne won handily and the big kid outplayed the larger, much more heralded Bradley. Melbourne would eventually lose in the State Finals.

After the season, despite his impressive senior year, no substantial scholarship offers came in so the big kid took a scholarship at Eastern Florida where he'd join his PG. The big kid had a very good freshman season and transferred to North Florida. A step up to be sure but not exactly a basketball powerhouse. Once in Jacksonville he continued his ascent through his two years with the Ospreys. And then he transferred again. To the Big East. If you had told me that he would be a Big East player when he was 17, I would've laughed you out of the gym. But now he was. And he was contributing. Averaging 21 minutes a game and 7 points and 6 boards. And usually, that's where this story would end. But, due to the pandemic all college athletes were granted an extra year of eligibility. So he came back for a 6th year. A 6th year that's undoubtedly been a magical ride. He starts now. Averaging 31 minutes, 11 points and 8 rebounds on 50 FG% and 37% 3pt FG. Oh, and his team won the Big East. And they play tomorrow night in the Sweet 16. 

That "big kid" is named Noah Horchler and he's one of the Friars most essential players. Doing a little bit of everything, leading the team in rebounds and knocking timely 3s. So, Gheorghies, root for the Friars tomorrow night and a kid (now a man) who earned every single minute of his basketball journey.

You Asked for This

Since nobody posted anything, you're stuck with this. My daughter and her friends found it this weekend while we were in Myrtle Beach for a cheer competition. The first time I heard it, I thought it was the single worst song ever recorded - in fact, the sheer stupidity had me laughing for the rest of the evening. And every time I think about it.

Subsequent listens didn't change my opinion, but they did make me realize something important: this may be the single best encapsulation of Myrtle Beach ever put on wax. And for that, it deserves your attention.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you 'Myrtle Beach', by Sunny Ledfurd. It'll change your life.

Bite Me, Mike Tyson?

Here's a sentence I read online this week:

"Mike Tyson's cannabis company is releasing an ear-shaped edible called "Mike Bites" almost 25 years after he famously bit off a chunk of Evander Holyfield’s ear."

There may be other sentences more purpose-written to elicit a response from this blog*, but that one's got a lot going for it: the weird and enigmatic Tyson, one of the strangest sporting moments in our lifetimes, the fact that I was 28 when that happened (passage of time, man, damn), edibles (most definitely edibles).

*Bert and Ernie gave Nathan Knight the key to Sesame Street after the W&M hoops coach led the school to its first NCAA Tournament bid, for example.

Here's a surpassingly weird Fox Business hit that starts with a shoutout to the genuinely heroic Klitschko brothers and pivots to convicted rapist/oddly rehabilitated hipster darling and weed entrepreneur Tyson shilling edibles after a tour through Mike's willingness to fight one of the brothers for charity. Read the room, loon-ass Fox host.

Tyson has spoken frequently of how cannabis has helped him deal with anxiety and provided mental clarity. According the Mike, "Cannabis has changed me for good both mentally and physically, and I want to share that gift with others who are also seeking relief." His Tyson 2.0 brand seems to be a serious player in the weed market. And as marketing stunts go, using one of his worst moments to generate interest is a nice bit of jiu-jitsu. 

Mike Bites are available in Nevada and California at the moment. They'll be on the market in Massachusetts soon. And I'm hoping that I might have a free second or two in a few weeks when I'm flying in and out of Denver to swing into a local and ask for them by name. 

See you at OBFT.