The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Three

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

Three Punk Rock Playlists 
Two Digits Throughout History 
And the debut of Mac McFis-ty 

On Friday, November 15, 2013, I unveiled a the first in a 5-part segment on punk rock. The quintet of posts would be a love letter to the music genre, as I hold punk in very high regard. (Clarence’s loves are known as the 3 P’s: punk, pilsner, and, well, this is a family blog, so we’ll leave it at that.)

I didn’t reveal the breakdown of the five posts at the time, but here’s what it came down to (click the links to review if you're killing time):

1. 1970’s punk, excepting three pillars 
2. The Ramones 
3. The Clash 
4. The Sex Pistols 
5. 1980’s through today’s punk 

Ah, the best laid plans of squirrels and men. Part 2 arrived on the G:TB scene in August of 2015. Reminiscent of the Cauc Hop final. But a hair better than Whitney’s still to-be-delivered Day 12 from last year. Or TR’s never-to-be-completed Topps baseball card review.

And so today I determine not to drag this out any further. It’s not all that fascinating a series of posts, and if this year has taught us anything, we just don’t know how long we have on this orb. I’d hate to have our intern have to finish this for me posthumously. Here we go, Parts 3, 4, and 5. In pieces. In reverse. Punk rock.


Holiday in Clarencia: Punk Chronicles Vol. 3 
-1980's until today-

Punk was preheated in the late 1960’s by The Stooges and MC5 and the like, prepped a bit in the early 70’s by the New York Dolls and T. Rex and friends, and then served up at the end of the decade by the horde of acts listed in Chapter 1 of this bus wreck and beyond. So what happened next?

The early 80’s saw some continuity; The Ramones, Dead Kennedys, and Black Flag kept on keepin’ on, while newcomers like X, Descendents, Minor Threat, and Social Distortion assumed the mantle. But… a number of bands previously punk now fell more into the new wave synth and melody, even they retained their punk f-u sensibilities. Devo, I’m looking at you. The Jam began flexing muscles that had a whiff of Motown. Blondie went pop, and for a second, hip-hop. Talking Heads got really good, but went to world music and a dozen other genres. And a bunch of groups who were pretty much punk could better be labeled something else. Bad Brains (hardcore), The Misfits (horror rock), The Cramps (psychobilly), and a whole lot of music that now got called “alternative rock.”

Hell, there are way, way too many categories and tons of crossover to where it’s pointless to even try: pop-punk, underground, indie, garage rock, post-punk, ska-core, 15 kinds of metal, alt-whatever, grunge, and just rock and roll. Random Idiots were as punk as they got, but the label filed them under “death reggae” and “folk speed metal.” What a mess.

So let’s not get hung up on rigid genre characterization. Let’s listen to some music. Enjoy the Spotify playlist below that is compiled of 69 Punk or Punkish tunes from 1980-2016.  There are the usual suspects (Dropkick Murphys, Green Day, The Minutemen, Fugazi), but more than a few random surprises.  Feedback and favorites welcomed.

It’s not really safe for work. You figured that, I figure.

Gheorghemas Gift Guide

This isn't a Gheorghemas post, but if it were, it'd fit perfectly on day number two. You'll understand soon enough. Honestly, I'm kinda pissed at my kids for not showing me this until last night.

Please enjoy this commercial interlude for an actual, real product. If you like this one, the makers have numerous other adverts to satisfy your interests.



I wonder if these guys know about Toto. The synergy there could be world-changing.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Two

On the second day of Gheorghemas
Big Gheorghe gave to me

And the debut of Mac McFisty
Two Digits Throughout History

Is it possible to fall victim to recency bias and still be watching something historically unprecedented? Let's find out.

Most NBA observers expected Russell Westbrook to put up large numbers in the absence of long-time running mate Kevin Durant, but I don't think very many of them thought he'd take a run at Oscar Robertson. Through 20 games, nearly a quarter of the way through the season, the Thunder guard is averaging 31.1 points, 10.5 rebounds, and 11.2 assists. Not since the Big O's second season in 1961-62 has anyone averaged a triple double for an entire year - and that's the only time it's ever happened.

Westbrook is in the top 10 in the league in all three categories (2nd in both points and assists/game and 10th in boards. He's a 6'3" guard. This isn't normal.). Despite the fact that his usage rate of 41.0 is off the charts, he's third in Basketball Prospectus' Player Efficiency Ratings.

It's not just the numbers that tell the story of Westbrook's absurd season, nor the fact that he's carried a Thunder team widely expected to struggle to a 12-8 record. No, the thing that's always made Westbrook a must-watch remains intact, and then some. He's the most athletic player in a league comprised of the most athletic people in the world. Watch what he does here to 7'0" Clint Capela:



That dunk, over a seven-footer, with his off hand, won that game for the Thunder. Westbrook is impossible.

People thought Oscar Robertson was impossible, too, in 1961-62. After one of the more remarkable rookie seasons in NBA history, the Big O was even better in his second campaign, recording 30.8 points, 12.5 rebounds, and 11.4 assists per game for the Cincinnati Royals. While the Royals wound up bowing out of the playoffs in the first round, Robertson's season echoes in history.

It says here that Westbrook's is better (or will be, if he sustains this pace). In 1961-62, Robertson's Royals averaged 124.9 possessions per game. The 2016-17 Oklahoma Thunder are averaging 98.7, fairly quick by current NBA standards. Basketball today is a very different game than it's predecessor. Robertson had 26 more opportunities per game to grab a board, drop a dime, or score a bucket than does Westbrook. The Big O's PER of 26 was fourth in the league, but it trails Westbrook's 30.1.

Russell Westbrook is on pace to have one of the most incredible seasons in NBA history, and stamp himself as the King of the Triple Doub...wait...that's...I hate to burst your bubble, but it's triple double trouble:



That's Magic Johnson's music!

While Westbrook is having a truly epic season, he's got work to do to track down the greatest triple double creator in league history outside of Robertson (who finished with 181). Magic recorded an amazing 138 in 905 career games (while Westbrook's up to 46 in 605 with the nine he's dropped this year - including four in a row).

Magic clearly wasn't the scorer, or devastating physical presence that Westbrook is, but his game remains the most unique blend of skills in the modern era.

I think I'd still rather watch Westbrook, though. I really just wanted a chance to post that song.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day One

Well folks, it's that most wonderful time of year again. No, not when we get to listen ad nauseam to such mega holiday hits as "Christmas Shoes" and "Christmas Eve in Washington", rather it is once again time for everyone's favorite faux holiday, Gheorghemas.

Gheorghemas has been around quite a few years now (get an intern on the official count), and it seems that once again Day One will be focused on yours truly, mainly because I am an egomaniac and lazy so by posting on Day One I get the other 11 days off. Gone is the fat guy in a jer-sey, and we're even eschewing Insane in the Posehn this year for something fun but of course still Teej-centric. To that end, I give you...


On the first day of Gheorghemas
Big Gheorghe gave to me
The debut of Mac McFisty

I had no idea this existed

It is awesome and horrific all at once. Enjoy.


P.S. I love that we already had a "Bee Gees" label

Believe the Hype

Back in the halcyon days of G:TB, or at least the days when we gave a shit about college football (as a collective - I know that many of you still do), Mark and I used to make a pretty serious effort to preview the SEC Championship when our teams were involved.

That happened in both 2008 and 2009, and though I'm not one to brag, I think our work speaks for itself. In 2008, as a matter of fact, no less a sporting expert than the late, lamented Jerry said this about our prognosticating prowess:

Florida and Alabama met again for the SEC title last season, two programs in decidedly different places than they were in the late aughts. And they meet again next Saturday, champions of their respective divisions, to decide who holds the belt as the winner of the country's best conference. (Get out of here with that Big Ten nonsense. Two teams worth a shit and Wisconsin, who might have a puncher's chance to win the SEC East.)

That's Leeburg's own
Jonathan Allen

Neither Mark nor I have the time or inclination to repeat our earlier efforts. We're both still a little worn out from the exertion, truth be told. And if we're telling the truth, I haven't followed the Tide nearly as closely this year as I have in years past, a combination of apathy, coaching soccer, and Alabama's entertainment-sapping dominance draining my reservoir of attention. I'm a pretty lousy fan. Alabama doesn't need me, though. They're going to win, and win handily. Let's call it 34-10. Local kid Jonathan Allen's gonna score a defensive touchdown. And Jalen Hurts is only a damn freshman. That doesn't seem very sporting.

In the spirit of nostalgia, and of hoping to catch lightning in a bottle again, I asked Mark for his prediction. Reached on a barstool during the Florida/Florida State game, he offered this, "I reserve the right to change it if Florida continues to suffer a plague of injuries. As of now I'll say 40-13."

Careful observers will note that both of us predicted the same digits. So if there's a way to bet on a score that contains a 0, 1, 3, and 4, I'd advise you to get on it. The past suggests it'll be worth your investment.

Each of the previous three times the Gators and Tide met in the SEC Championship, the winner went on to close out the season as National Champions. Odds are good that Alabama will make it four straight - they're basically a professional organization at this point. Barring a gymnastics meet, or a dance competition, or a really good soccer game on television, I might even watch it.

Happy Thanksgiving, Alternatively Titled: Ain't No Such Thing As Halfway Cooks

Happy Tgives! Are you stressed out because you have to make a side dish and have no idea where to start? Don't worry, Prodigy from Mobb Deep has you covered! He learned a bunch of cool recipes while in prison, so many that he wrote a cookbook called Commissary Kitchen. Here's how to make a dish using only stuff found at your corner bodega:



Despite Prodigy's assertions to the contrary, all that mayo and salt doesn't look particularly healthy. But who cares, it's Thanksgiving! Indulge.

New (Old) Prince. Same Old Awkward

Legend has it that Prince left behind hundreds of unfinished tracks upon his far too early passing a few months ago. Hopefully, that means we can expect scenes like this one to be repeated.

Somehow, ABC News got the hookup to drop the world premiere of 'Moonbeam Levels' recorded originally during the 1999 sessions, but never released. Enjoy it, but dig if you will the reactions of the live Prince fans who had the pleasure and/or torture of listening to it while being filmed.



It's probably safe to ignore the last 18+ minutes of this. But if it's not, maybe let me know.

Wisdom of the Crowd

Last night at the Second Annual Loudoun Soccer Ball (Soccer Ball, get it?), abetted by copious amounts of alcohol, I spent way too much money on the auction item described in the video below:



Now, to figure out what to do with it. I could have Rog and Davo fete my daughter's soccer team. Or they could record a G:TB theme. Maybe I go selfish, and have them tout me as a generous and remarkable human being. Or do a shoutout to TR's friend who hates them.

I've got options. What Would GTB Do?

I Laughed (Because I Was Confused)

Forgive me for dredging up something already mentioned in a previous Comments thread, but a day later, I remain completely confused. Here's the scene:

I'm waiting in line to board my plane from Minneapolis home to Dulles, and I hear a garrulous voice from behind me chatting up another line-dweller. The voice, a young man's, has a distinctly New England accent. And because it was loud, I knew that the voice belonged to a fellow who was heading to Rhode Island and claimed to have had five beers in the hour before boarding.

None of this is particularly remarkable. Obnoxious, maybe, but we've all heard that guy in airports before.

As we board the plane, Drunky O'Sullivan's voice stays behind me, and stays loud. At this point, I haven't looked back to catch a visual, because the last thing I want to do is catch his attention and get sucked into his conversational vortex. I find my seat, turn to place my carry-on under my seat, and finally get a view of our guy.

He's exactly what I thought he was. Twenty-something white kid, dark hair just below his collar and underneath a Boston Bruins cap. Zip-up hoodie over a flannel shirt. Fashionable jeans.

And shoes that looked an awful lot like these:

Slightly lower heel, maybe, and thicker straps, but definitely open-toed to show off the dazzling red paint job on his carefully pedicured toes.

I took a picture, because even I didn't believe it. The picture is terrible (my knee looks pretty nice), but it's here anyway. Zoom in:

I'm as baffled right now as I was when I noticed this. And to his credit, my loud, drunk friend never batted an eye, called attention to his feet, or acted like anything was out of the ordinary.

If this is what Trump's America has in store for us, prepare to spend the next four years questioning everything.

I Laughed

This is the first in a series of recurring posts that I (and most of us, honestly) need in order to keep our sanity in the face of an avalanche of evidence that our new President knows fuck all about what he's doing and/or really is a white nationalist racist ignoramus fuckstick. 

Today, I laughed, when my man Teejay joined in with a popular Twitter meme. People are asking 'What Does It Look Like I Do For a Living?', initially to make a point about how looks can be deceiving, but now mostly so that they can enjoy a roast at their own expense, or that of others.

Here's what the Teej posted:

On it's own, there's a lot we could do with that. (And I encourage you to do so in the comments.) But out of nowhere, from somewhere in Illinois, a great American gave us this:

I laughed.

Between Two Tribe Fans

Let's be honest, friends. 2016, by so many measures, sucks. I think we're all glad that it's nearly over. But in every dark cloud, there's at least some silver lining. For me and Zman, that shine was spelled the same way, as the following conversation (edited for comprehension) details. I'm the one with the stylish italics:

Yo, Z, what's the best thing to come out of the last few weeks of 2016?

The best thing to come out of the last few weeks of 2016, and maybe all of 2016, and maybe even farther back than that, is A Tribe Called Quest's new album "We Got It from Here... Thank You 4 Your Service." It's their first album in 18 years and boy could I use it. As I said here, "Phife's death bums me out. We'll never get another ATCQ album." So this was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise gloomy week. We got another Tribe album and it's damn good!

yo microphone check one, two, what is this

Funny you should bring up Tribe, 'cause I was going to go with the start of the Tribe hoops season, which happens to be today. Tony Shaver's boys take on Bridgewater to kick off the 2016-17 campaign. The real action tips off on Monday, though, when Omar Prewitt returns home to the Bluegrass State to lead the Tribe against Louisville. W&M shocked N.C. State in last year's season-opener. I'm betting that the result is slightly different this time.

Speaking of slightly different, new season, new team. Who's your pick for Tribe MVP?

You aren't going to believe this but I think it's Donald Trump. This album is more overtly political than previous ones and it's definitely influenced by the themes of the 2016 campaign. Check out "We The People" for example.



That's some golden age conscious stuff right there. Chuck D and KRS-ONE have this on repeat. And man is it nice to hear that old Q-Tip snare and high-hat.

I don't know if Omar gets down with Q-Tip (guess: he does), but if we're talking about basketball MVPs, the 6'7" senior is clearly W&M's leading man. The 2015-16 first-team All-CAA selection averaged 17.8 points per game on 49.1% shooting last season, and ranks 13th in Tribe hoops history with 1,361 points.

Prewitt's going to have to carry a big leadership load this year, too, as one of only two seniors on the roster. W&M will miss graduated do-everything forward Terry Tarpey immensely. The 2015-16 CAA Defensive Player of the Year averaged double digit points, and led the team in rebounds, blocks, and steals. There's never been a player like him in W&M's long (if not necessarily distinguished) hoops history. He's irreplaceable as a source of energy and intensity.

And Sean Sheldon's size and improved offensive skill will be difficult for the Wrens to replicate in the post. They're going to need a couple of new dudes to step way up. 

But that's true for both Tribes, isn't it?

Phife's death obviously means the end of ATCQ as we know it, I don't think anyone can step up and fill his shoes. Jarobi actually spits a few verses on this album (for the first time ever) but he can't replace Phife. No one can. You can't have a Tribe album without him. And his last two verses are memorable. The penultimate is a duo with Kendrick Lamar called "Conrad Tokyo" and it's predictably excellent.



Phife waded into politics in his first recorded verse ("Mr. Dinkins won't you please be our mayor?") so it's fitting that he offered up one last round of social commentary. His last song, "The Donald," is bittersweet--his verse is entirely braggadocio, bookended by a respectful introduction from Busta Rhymes and a props-filled outro from Q-Tip. Tip and Phife were friends for something like 40 years and it feels like Tip constructed this song as an homage to his oldest friend. This is the last ATCQ song we'll ever hear for the first time and I think Q-Tip wanted it that way.

Jeez, it's getting dusty in here. On a lighter note, the samples on this album are pretty risky in spots. The Ooompa Loompa song from "Willy Wonka," I think some dialogue from "Young Frankenstein," and ... "Benny and the Jets"?!? Sure, Biz Markie covers this song but it doesn't seem to lend itself to a hot beat. Credit Q-Tip's genius as a producer to turn an ancient Elton John song into a modern banger. "Solid Wall of Sound" takes big risks and they pay off.

Did Tribe hoops take any risks this year that need to pay off big in order to get that ever-elusive NCAA bid?

this makes me happy

If you consider playing with five guards and no post defense a risk, I guess they did, or will. Shaver's teams can fill it up - that's never been an issue, and it won't be this year, with Prewitt, fellow senior Daniel Dixon, and juniors Greg Malinowski, Connor Burchfield, and David Cohn all ready, willing, and able to shoot the ball. Cohn averaged nearly 5 assists a game with 3:1 assist to turnover ratio last year. With another season under his belt, he'll be one of the best true point guards in the CAA. The 6'6" Malinowksi's versatility and athleticism will be a big key as Shaver seeks a consistent third option behind the two seniors.

So we've got the scoring covered. The rebounding and defense, well, that's a bit of a different story. 6'9" junior Jack Whitman will get most of the early minutes, but he's on the thin side, and he's never put up more than 2.7 rebounds per game. Sophomore sensation Hunter Seacat (!) is a big body (and only a sensation because of his name) who showed some flashes in limited action last year, but he'll have to take a big step up to help fill Sheldon's role. 6'10", 250-lb freshman Nathan Knight is raw, but he's big and physical, and if he can adapt to the college game, he'll make an impression.

Game remains the same, though, for the Tribe. When we shoot the ball well, we can beat anybody. When we go a little cold, we can lose ugly. Last year's 91-63 loss to Hofstra says hello.

So what's your takeaway? Does the new Tribe record herald a turning point, or is it just one bright point in an otherwise bleakening landscape? And how does ATCQ relate to a Tribe ball quest?

I really think it's a turning point. Tribe are heroes to a lot of younger MCs and I guarantee this album will be repeatedly listened to and dissected by oldheads and youngheads alike. I think it will inspire other rappers to couple out-of-left-field production with left-of-center lyrics leading to a renaissance of conscious political hiphop. I think we've had enough coke and codeine rhymes for now.

ATCQ was four guys who grew up together and used their friendship as a foundation to create some of the best hiphop ever. They had tremendous early success but internal strife led to music of lesser quality. With this album they've returned to greatness one last time. If Tribe hoops can mimic this within the microcosm of a basketball season they could win the CAA tourney and finally make the big dance. It would be a turning point for both Tribes, I guess.

One other potential turning point could be for Andre 3000 to build on his cameo verse on this record and join ATCQ as Questlove suggested. I can't fully wrap my head around that but I think it would work. Sort of like getting a transfer student who turns into a major contributor.

Kinda like David Cohn last year, then. 

As for the W&M Tribe, lots of observers like them to contend again in the CAA. Tony Shaver's teams have recorded 20 wins or more in three consecutive seasons. A fourth would be unprecedented (I think. Not gonna look it up.). They'll play a lot of 81-77 games this year, and a couple of 82-55 contests (both ways). The league's coaches and media folks picked W&M to finish third, which is a statement of respect for Shaver as much as anything else. There are a bunch of teams that have a shot this year, including defending champion UNCW, Hofstra, talented Towson, and much-improved College of Charleston. 

Me, I think third's a bit too high, but I'll tip the Tribe for a first-round bye. (Q-Tip can have that rhyme for free.)

But I'll go one better. The universe owes us some happy. And #1bid4wmtribe would make a lot of people happy - even folks with no affiliation to W&M. It's happening this year.

As the Tribe flies high like a dove.

Gheorghe Explains: Some Gheorghian Election Observations

I've been pondering the election results in a stunned state of surprise and sadness. To avoid feeling worse I forced my brain to take a Gheorghian approach to processing this kerfuffle. Here are some observations.

* If, during a discussion about women, a man tells you that he likes to "grab them by the pussy," you are disqualified from hosting Access Hollywood.
* Asserting that you grab women by the pussy has no impact on your ability to be president.
* When Obama ran as a candidate of hope and change, republicans mocked him:



* When Trump ran as a candidate of change, republicans voted for him.
* Voters picked the candidate from the conservative party because they wanted change.
* Voters thought Clinton was more qualified than Trump--which I interpret to mean that Clinton was believed to be more likely to make good decisions and Trump is more likely to make bad ones--but they wanted change and Clinton was viewed as likely to maintain the status quo; thus, potentially bad change from an unqualified candidate is better than no change at all.
* Voters chose Trump because he would "get things done" despite the fact that many of the things he wants to do appear to be impractical, impossible, immoral, illegal, or combinations thereof.
* Voters wanted a candidate who would help the little guy, so they voted for the billionaire who inherited great wealth and has a history of bending the rules to make money and engaging in sharp business practices to screw over his employees and contractors.
* I'm emboldened to say whatever the hell I want at work--if anyone takes offense I can just say I'm being presidential.
* Beer-bellied white guys over age 45 like to say to me "It's been a great couple of days, huh!" while using the adjacent urinal--I guess there's something about having their dicks in their hands that makes them feel like they can open up to me on their political views.
* How am I supposed to respond to one of the foregoing guys when they ask me if I think the Clinton Foundation is the entity "buying up all these stocks" so that they can dump them and crash the market the day Trump takes office?
* Telephone polls aren't helpful if voters don't answer the phone, or if they don't even have a phone.
* Put another way, market research is useless.
* I don't know how many people on Obamacare voted for Trump or didn't vote at all, but if you're on Obamacare and you didn't come out to vote for Hillary then don't complain to me about anything.
* We should all invest in gold leaf--I foresee some serious decorative alterations to the White House.
* I'm not as bummed out as I was in 2004, I guess I've gotten used to disappointment.



* Speaking of 2004 ... once again, our president is a swaggering privileged wealthy white dunce who can't pronounce straightforward words, invents new words, favors tax cuts for the wealthy and limited government, and has a regressive view of reproductive rights. This worked out great last time around!

* The 2004 and 2016 electoral maps look a lot alike. The ghost of Karl Rove lingers!

* I wonder if hipsters will abandon the shaved-on-the-sides-and-long-on-top haircut from post-WWI and adopt the long-on-the-sides-swoopy-on-top-and-parted-from-the-armpit look from Trump.
* Why don't we still make SDB jokes around here and will we ever do so again now that Bill Clinton is out of the spotlight forever?
* An overlooked first from this election: Melania Trump is the first First Lady to be photographed prone on a fur coat wearing nothing except for high heels and a briefcase handcuffed to her wrist.

* The candidate who bemoaned that the election was rigged before the votes were cast won the presidency despite the fact that he got fewer votes than his opponent.
* If you want to have more of an impact on presidential elections, simply move to Florida or Ohio and vote.

Presidential Cabinet, or Laff-A-Lympics team?

According to reports, our new President-Elect, Donald Trump (still not over this. wtf people) has been preparing a preliminary list of candidates for Cabinet positions. This list is, well, it's something all right. Look at this caucus of clowns:

• Attorney General picks include: Chris Christie, Jeff Sessions, Rudy Giuliani
• Newt Gingrich, John Bolton and Bob Corker - potential picks for Secretary of State
• RNC Chairman Reince Priebus is the only name listed under Chief of Staff, while Sessions is also the only one being considered for Director of Office of Management and Budget
• Potential Secretary of Commerce picks include: Christie, Mike Huckabee
• Ben Carson under consideration to be Secretary of Education
• Christie also being weighed for Secretary of Homeland Security
• Carson, Gingrich and Florida Gov. Rick Scott - potential picks for Secretary of Health and Human Services
• Former Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin - one of seven potential candidates to become Secretary of the Interior

Honestly, at this point, I'd rather enlist The Really Rottens to run the White House. In case you forgot this ragtag bunch, a team "composed of villainous characters that frequently cheated by either giving themselves an unfair advantage in a contest or sabotaging the other teams":

• Mumbly
• Dread Baron
• Dinky Dalton
• Dirty Dalton
• Dastardly Dalton
• Mr. Creepley
• Mrs. Creepley
• Junior Creepley
• Orful Octopus
• Great Fondoo
• Magic Rabbit
• Daisy Mayhem
• Sooey

I'll let you decide in the comments which Rotten matches up with which potential Trump cabinet member.

Hair of the Dog that Bit Me, Lloyd

Moving right along, people.  This is your regularly scheduled dipshittery.

So I went to a work luncheon the other day, and one of the sponsors was a construction company.  Among other marketing tactics, the company appeals to prospective buyers through a lovable looking animal, presumably to soften the image of an industry not known for lovability.  (See Poltergiest or Lethal Weapon 3, among others.)  So they have a retriever named Linus who wears a construction hat and poses for photos.  Cute.  Harmless.

Except this was the picture they had on enormous display at the event.

What do you think of when you think of "Overlook"?  Does anyone else instantly think of the Overlook Hotel?

If you do, you know there isn't much lovable about it.  Family murders, elevators filled with blood, a hotel coming to grisly life and creating gory death.  I couldn't stop thinking that this was a terrible choice, especially written in what could pass for blood.  It's one backwards R from being intentional.

Just glad it wasn't Lot 237.



Just me???  Probably.  All work and no play makes Clarence a dull boy.

Election Day Open Thread (Alternatively Titled, It's the End of the World As We Know It, and I Feel Fine)

Intellectually, I feel pretty good this morning. Barring a cataclysmic, systematic, and unprecedented failure on the part of the American political polling establishment, the facts suggest that Hillary Clinton should be elected President, and this godforsaken shitshow of an election will come to its only sane conclusion.

Emotionally, I'm a goddamned trainwreck. Even as we at G:TB understood the animating forces behind the Trump phenomenon from early on, I never thought it'd get this far. And even if the short-fingered vulgarian loses badly, we have a reckoning coming as a nation.

If he wins? I'm honestly not prepared to think about that.

So come in to the comments below and vent or cheer, depending on the news of the day. On the bright side, we might know pretty early on whether we need to drink heavily. If HRC wins Florida, it's all over. If that state turns out to be a clusterfuck (which would never happen, so why worry?), it'll be a long night.

Drunk Music Lessons

Friday night, my wife and I met some friends at a local brewpub to have a couple of week-ending pops and listen to a neighbor play old-time rock and roll. (For what it's worth, Loudoun County, Virginia is a beer lover's paradise right now - I can walk to no fewer than six brewpubs making their own stuff, and there are another thirteen within easy driving distance.)

We had to leave to pick up our youngest at gymnastics, but she hadn't eaten anything, so we headed back into town to grab some killer street tacos and another beer. It was a beautiful night, and our town has a festive First Friday scene each month, so we finished our evening getting dessert and a manhattan at a restaurant bar. Daddy was feeling good.

When we arrived back at the house, the kidlet wanted to talk about music, so I obliged. She wanted me to hear Panic! At the Disco's cover of Bohemian Rhapsody, which is pretty good. But she needed to hear the original, and she definitely needed to hear Freddy Mercury's voice.

After that lesson, we spent a good hour wandering around YouTube so I could share some of the favorites of my youth. I focused on progressive/alternative stuff, the foundation of my high school catalog, but somehow I figured she needed to hear some early Springsteen, too. I'm working on the next lesson now, so I'll try to focus. Feeling pretty good about my Dadding, though, notwithstanding the fact that I was drunkenly hanging out with my kid.

In no particular order, here's the show:

ALERT!

According to numerous sources on the interweb, Dave Chappelle will be hosting Saturday Night Live on November 12 with musical guest A Tribe Called Quest. Whoa. In celebration of that, enjoy:

Joy...and Pain

Sports are awesome. And they suck.

Happy Halloween

Sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you.

Just two short months after Gene Wilder's passing, we finally get around to celebrating him. And since it's Halloween, enjoy a five-minute version of Young Frankenstein.

Educating the Youth of America (With Bonus Trivia Question)

One of many joys of parenting is the opportunity it conveys to properly educate/brainwash children about the things you find important. In my case, the topics on which my kids actually listen to me are generally limited to liberal politics, respect for our fellow man, and music. I'm doing my best, y'all.

My high schooler was excited to tell me about Miley Cyrus' new song, 'Jolene', earlier this week. For all her eccentricities (and don't try to tell me you wouldn't be just a tad fucked up if you grew up in public), Miley's got some pipes. At least in the sense that she sings loudly and powerfully - we'll leave a discussion of nuance and emotion until she grows up a little. It's a pretty good tune, though.



After I listed to the song, I told my daughter to Google Dolly Parton's original version. As soon as the legend started singing, my daughter's eyes widened, and she said, 'holy shit, she's amazing'. (Colorful language, actually, is one other thing my daughters get from me, now that I think about it.) Ain't that the truth. Now she's been searching for other Dolly Parton tunes to see if she can learn them on the ukelele. Seeds, planted.



I mentioned this briefly on Twitter a few days ago, and a Gheorghie responded to tell me that Dolly's 'Jolene' was on his Top 10 songs list. For extra credit (and assuming you didn't see the exchange online), name that Gheorghie. And for him (or her), I'd love to see that list.

And just for fun, here are Miley and Dolly (goddaughter and godmother, as it turns out) singing the tune together in 2010.

Memory Lane

"Next year is right now. It's 12:30 am, I'm drunk, tears are dried on my cheeks, and I have a perma-grin on my face that's not likely to recede any time soon. To steal from the great Jack Buck, I cannot believe what I just saw." - Misery Loves Company, October 28, 2004

As I settle in to watch one of the most feel-good World Series of my lifetime, I find my mind drifting back twelve years. Thanks to the Chicago Cubs, the 2016 Fall Classic is an opportunity for me to vicariously re-experience one of the great fortnights of my life.

If you'll indulge me, we're off on a blatantly selfish tour of my memory banks.

Popular culture's long past it now, in a millenium when the Red Sox have won three World Series championships, but in 2004, the Boston nine were still losers. Lovable, if you were connected to the Hub, and enjoyably cursed if you weren't. And when they went down 3-0 to the Yankees in the ALCS, one short year removed from a gutting series loss to their greatest rivals, next year seemed impossibly far away.

The morning after the third loss of that ALCS, a mere 10 days before I wrote the quote that leads this post, I said this, "I simply am not smart enough, or talented enough to put adequate words to my utter disappointment with these Red Sox." The Yankees had just pasted the Sox, 19-8, in Fenway, leading to shot after shot of dejected Bostonians sitting in stunned silence in the stands.

Whitney and I started writing Misery Loves Company at the outset of the 2003 baseball season. It made me a better writer, and it made me a better baseball fan. It made me think about the game, and find new ways to talk about it. To be honest, we wrote some stuff over the six years that we did it that I'm quite proud of. (And a decent volume of crap, to be fair.) I really loved doing that blog, and it was made all the better because I got to do it with my best friend. And now, I'm extremely grateful that I wrote all that stuff down more than a decade ago.

I wasn't so grateful after Game 3.

Everyone knows the history (and some of you are Yankees fans), so I'll spare you the blow by blow. That ALCS was so cathartic that I literally fell to the ground after the final out of Game 7 in tears, pounding my living room floor, crying and yelling "they did it!" over and over again.

In all honesty, after the emotion of the ALCS, the World Series against the Cardinals was almost anti-climactic. It's easy to say this in retrospect, but there was no way that particular Red Sox team, that band of idiots, was going to lose. When they finally won, I wrote something that I saw echoed online just this last week:

"Somewhere, Charlie Brown is smoking a cigarette, the Little Red-Haired Girl's head nestled against his shoulder as they lay in the afterglow of beautiful cartoon lovemaking. Lucy's sitting outside wondering how the hell he kicked that ball so far."

That's one of the best paragraphs I'll ever write.

In the days and weeks after the Red Sox series-clinching win, I saw and heard a lot of people writing about how things would change for their fans. That the curse-busting championship would forever change the essential character of Sox fandom. Maybe they were right. I certainly don't follow the Red Sox with the same intensity, though that's a function of the way my life has changed more than any diminishing interest. My Dad's Sox fandom took on a different character as he got older, even though they never won one until he was 57.

But I wouldn't trade those 10 days in October 2004 for anything, even if it means I don't get to feel the same gut-twisting, will-it-ever-happen anxiety again. That time brought me a joy that I still find hard to express. Everyone should be so lucky.

And right now, Cubs fans are four games away from being just that. My own memories of 2004 are fresh enough that I know exactly how they feel. This was famed Cubbie backer Bill Murray after the Cubs toppled the Dodgers to win the National League pennant.



I know how you feel. Boy, do I.

FOX Sports opened its coverage of this World Series with a montage of elderly Cubs and Indians fans talking about their excitement to have a chance to see their teams win it all just one time. It reminded me of hearing about so many New Englanders in their 70s, 80s, and 90s experiencing the bliss of the Sox finally winning it all.

Sometime in the next week or so, another long-suffering group of fans will feel a joy they worried they'd never experience. And I'll be thrilled for them. Joy, after all, is worth celebrating.

WWzD: Big and Classy, but Cheap

I like to kill a few minutes here and there by browsing through the Hemmings app, usually looking at cars I can't afford but occasionally finding a few gems that make me consider clogging up my driveway. I'm typically looking for something undervalued or underappreciated by the masses, ideally for sale by the original owner. One particularly effective category of zclickbait is big classy old cars that are surprisingly cheap. And by "classy" I mean the type of car that people notice and recognize but isn't overly ostentatious. You can find a Turbo R or Eight for under $20,000 but unless you're a senior citizen with a British accent you'll look like a dooshwhistle in a Bentley. I'm looking for the type of car your grandfather bought as a gift to himself on his 69th birthday.

For example, this 1983 BMW 733i is available for "$15,000 negotiable." And it looks pretty crispy. I love the angular shark-like front ends of early 80s BMWs and the 733i was the flagship of the US line in 1983. It has a straight six making 181 hp and 195 lb-ft of torque. The 5 speed manual transmission makes it especially choice. It only has 88,000 miles and it's being sold by the owner (as opposed to a used car dealer) who bought it new and states "As I approach 90 need for a highway tourer has diminished and I believe it is time for another caring owner." And it's in Greenwich so the whole story sounds legitimate. The price is well above book value but I suspect it's worth it. If you're looking for a big old Bimmer this is a great place to start--see if you can haggle your way down to $12k and don't look back.

This 1986 Jaguar XJ6 can be taken home for the paltry sum of $7,900. If not for the fact that we're redoing zbathroom next month I would be hard pressed to come up with a reason not to buy this. The XJ6 might be the most beautiful sedan of the past 45 years. This one has the classic Jag straight 6, under 58,000 miles, very good paint, an excellent interior, and it's about 13 miles from my house--for sale by owner nonetheless. It would be perfect if it were green. But if you're looking to get into a hand-built British luxury car for less than a Nissan Versa (which is the cheapest new car in America), look no further. It's less reliable than the 733i, but you won't find a better combination of price and beauty. People will automatically assume you're old money when you pull up in this thing.

The most obvious big classy cheap car is a four-door Mercedes. There's a reason Jay-Z has a thing for them big body Benzes. They're iconic. The W123 series are also plentiful, nearly indestructible, and typically pampered by their original owners. I have a soft spot for the ones with matching hubcaps and my love of station wagons is well documented. This 1981 300TD pulls especially hard on my heartstrings because it has the legendary turbodiesel 5-cylinder engine. And it's a manual. Yes, that's right, a 35 year old red Mercedes stick-shift inline-5 turbodiesel station wagon with matching hubcaps. I'm completely smitten. It's for sale by a dealer, which gives me pause, but their video is absolutely pornographic.



I would eventually swap out the clear fog lights for yellow ones, that's easy. I can live with the few interior flaws, but the hood ornament doesn't stand up straight which makes me wonder what happened to the front end over the past three-and-a-half decades. And it's in Michigan. If a little old lady in Bronxville was selling this thing though ... I'd be hurtling up the Henry Hudson with $9000 in cash instead of writing this post.

Dave Is Brilliant (according to Dave)

Although we've been a little slower pumping out the episodes since school started, we are still making The Test.

I haven't posted all the episodes up here, because my prolific creativity annoys Marls, but the newest episode is something special (and my favorite one so far). This is mainly because the final question-- which I conceived in my super-brilliant brain-- is a culmination of not only everything we've learned on the podcast, but quite possibly ties all the knowledge in the universe together, an enormous version of Lebowski's rug. The ladies might not wholeheartedly agree with my assessment, but they don't totally disagree either.

I also set a cunning pepper-related trap, which they fall into headfirst (and refuse extrication). And we solve a mystery.

It's an amazing tour-de-force. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll shoot mucous from your nose, and if you're not careful, you just might learn something (pepper-related).

World Series Open Thread

(Read: lazy man working on a World Series post didn't get it done.)

We'll break down the Series, G:TB style, over the next few days, but suffice it to say that our editorial position is that it's really freaking cool to see the Cubs make it to the this point, and it's hard for some of us to root against Terry Francona.

I'm going to miss Joe Biden

I never understood how I went to college in southeastern Virginia, NASCAR country, but only met one other car guy (El Weenaldo). We need more car guys. Guys like Joe Biden and his mint 1967 Corvette. 1967 was the final year of the second-generation (or "C2") cars, and I think they are some of the most beautiful sports cars ever, especially the convertibles. Biden's has the base 327 engine but it can still lay a patch.

Any car guy would love a C2 Vette in Goodwood Green. But this is more than just a great classic car to the Vice President. Watch this video.

⚡️ “Joe Biden got to take his '67 Corvette out for the third time as VP” ⚡️#JayLenosGarage https://t.co/u0lZfobckP

— Jay Leno's Garage (@LenosGarage) October 21, 2016

Every time he sees this car, he's reminded of his father whom I'm sure he loved. Every time he sees this car, he's reminded of his wedding with his first wife who died tragically. Every time he sees this car, he's reminded of his son Beau who also died tragically. I can't fathom the memories and emotions this hunk of iron and fiberglass stirs in him. The smells of combusted leaded gasoline and burned rubber, the clatter of sixteen pushrod-activated overhead valves and almost unfettered exhaust, the feel of the road through the bottom of the seat and the huge skinny wheel, the whole experience has to be moving every time he gets behind the wheel.

Maybe you never worked on a car with your father, or your father never had an American car with a big V8 and a convertible top, or maybe you saw your father every day so your only quality with him wasn't the drive to and from his house on Saturdays. Maybe this video doesn't choke you up from 1:15 to 2:20. Maybe you aren't a car guy. But if you are, you understand why I went from misty-eyed at the 2:10 mark to full-on "FUCK YEAH JOE!!" joyousness at the 2:27 mark.

I'm going to miss Joe Biden. I hope that in a few months he gets to drive his cherry Vette as much as he wants and that he enjoys everything it evokes inside him.

Progress Is On The Ballot

I've struggled for a while, probably for this entire cycle, to articulate the reasons why I'm voting for Hillary Clinton. I mean, I'm unequivocally voting against Donald Trump, for reasons that are self-evident to anyone that knows me. But when I saw this ad a few days ago, it fell into place for me.



I'm voting for Hillary Clinton because she's a continuation of the progress that I believe President Obama has made. And because she's a direct repudiation of the strategy of obstructionism, cynicism, and yes, racism, that the modern GOP employs. I don't love everything about her, but I'm with her.

I'm with her because of him.

They're Playing Our Song

As a devoted fan of American Whiskey, I've been watching a new trend that purists may find close to blasphemous. Distillers across the country (and the world) are blending different whiskey types to create new hybrid styles.

According to Bloomberg (please don't tell my employer that I read something from Bloomberg), the practice isn't entirely new. In the sober days of Prohibition, boozemakers running low on spirits would mix their stuff to extend their stock. Now, though, distillers are doing it on purpose.

And if I know my audience, I believe I've found the hybrid whiskey that'll soon be gracing bars across the Gheorgheverse.

Japanese spirits house Chichibu is marketing Ichiro's Malt & Grain, a blend of whiskeys from "the big five" whiskey-producing countries: the U.S., Canada, Scotland, Ireland, and Japan. Bloomberg says the $65 bottle (hard to find in the U.S. under $100, apparently) is "silky and elegant, with warming, almond-like tones and a honey-pepper finish".

Bloomberg also touts a three-decade blend from The Hilhaven Lodge (rye from the 1980s, Tennessee whiskey from the 1990s, and bourbon from the 2000s), Wild Turkey's 'Forgiven', which is 78% six year-old bourbon and 22% four year-old rye, and High West's Campfire, which includes rye, bourbon, and a bit of Scotch.

Those all sound tasty, but I think we all know what we'll be looking for at our local packie. First one to find Ichiro needs to report back to the class.

Gheorghasbord: Happy Fun Time Edition

As we lurch on towards November 8, each day seemingly more disgusting than the next, our relentless plumbing the colon of the body politic exposing our ugliest secrets, it's high time that we find a few reasons to be happy to be alive.

First and foremost, we're alive. That's pretty fucking great, even as we sometimes focus too narrowly on the things that aren't (present company really guilty). And according to the highest authority in the land, we're alive at the greatest moment in human history. In a guest essay for Wired, Barack Obama said, "...the truth is, if you had to choose any time in the course of human history to be alive, you’d choose this one. Right here in America, right now." (He also admitted to being a Trekkie, which we probably should've known - the ears, and all.)

The fundamental optimism of his essay stands in stark contrast to the elemental doom projected by the GOP Presidential nominee, which is just one more of a thousand reasons why I'm going to greatly miss President Obama. As, after a time, will nearly all of us.

Shlara had an inkling that I'd be writing this kind of post today, because she linked to a story about finding happiness in being present in the comments of the previous post. Penned by a former touring musician, it explores the notion of the relativity of joy and peace. When the author, stuck washing dishes in a bar owned by Michael Stipe, questions the R.E.M. frontman's complaints about having a bad day, he gets a lesson. According to Stipe, “Getting rich and famous only solves two problems. Not being famous and not having any money. And it hands you a whole new set of problems you never knew you could have.”

Here's to the problems we've got, and may they pale in comparison to the joy at hand all around us.

This is Lynden Gooch. He's an American.
You'll hear more about him.

While the election's certainly important, I'd much rather be focusing on November 11. On that date, the U.S. Men's National Team begins the final round of qualifying for the 2018 World Cup. Jurgen Klinsmann's lads, fresh off a pair of middling tune-up performances, take on old rival Mexico in the first of ten qualifying matches. We host Mexico in Columbus, Ohio, where we've beaten El Tri four consecutive times by identical 2-0 scores. If you hear your soccer-minded friends saying 'dos a cero' a lot in the run up, you'll know why.

We're odds on favorites to advance to our eighth consecutive World Cup, needing only to finish in the top three of the six teams (besides us, it's Mexico, Costa Rica, Panama, Trinidad & Tobago, and Honduras), but there are no guarantees. After playing Mexico at home, we play at Costa Rica, and there's a non-zero chance that we start in a hole. Getting a result in at least one of those two matches would go a long way to easing the nerves of American soccer fans.

Finally, the thing that's probably got me the happiest at the moment is the fact that college basketball season is a mere month away. On the same night that the U.S. entertains Mexico in Columbus, a handful of really good games tips off the season. Indiana plays Kansas and Arizona takes on Michigan State in the Armed Forces Classic, getting the season off to a quick start.

Guys, I think this is the Tribe's year.

My Name's Pete Nice. You Want My Autograph?

I recently uncovered an old iTunes playlist I made for a party many years ago. I loaded it onto my iPhone for shits and gigs. I played it while walking to the train for my commute home. Two big takeaways:

1) Super Bon Bon is the perfect Manhattan walking-with-a-purpose tune. Catchy, intense and angry, but not the kind of speed metal that makes you want to punch someone.

2) Hol-ee crap, do I dig the old 3rd Bass tunes. Everyone kinda digs them, I know. This isn't a big call I'm making. But cranking Brooklyn Queens is all kinds of awesome. And after watching Boogie Nights 69 times, I now recognize that the tune sampled Best of My Love by The Emotions. Totally enjoyable tune as I trek from 50th & Park to 50th & Broadway to take the 1 train south to Penn Station.

Dig it.

Daddy's Little Psycho

It's been 18 months since I wrote about Green Day in this space, Now, on the occasion of their latest studio album, Revolution Radio, I return to celebrate* the greatest pure rock band of my generation.

(* - I'm gonna write a few sentences and post a video.)

Green Day turn 30 years old this year. Its primary members are all squarely in their mid-40s, the inchoate and aimless rage of their early 20s replaced by an idealistically socially conscious one. For me, that idealism serves a selfish purpose, as my 15 year-old daughter just got turned onto the band and is fast becoming a fan.

In March, Green Day bring three chords and the truth (contractually obligated to say that, at this point) to the Verizon Center in Washington, DC, where I'll get to fulfill one of my own rock and roll bucket list items alongside my kid. Not quite 'She's a Rebel', but an 'Extraordinary Girl' in my book.

Here's the video from 'Bang Bang', the first single from the new record. It sounds a lot like Green Day.

Trumpty Trump Advises Us All To Just Grab 'Em In The Biscuits

Digital Underground was a relatively popular hiphop group in the late 1980's. Their most popular song was "The Humpty Dance" in which group "member" Humpty Hump stated "I'm the one who said just grab 'em in the biscuits!" which was a reference to another song on the same album, "Doowutchyalike" in which Humpty Hump implored women thusly: "Homegirls, for once, forget you got class, see a guy you like: just grab 'em in the biscuits!" I refer to Humpty as a "member" of DU because he was Shock G's alter ego--he put on a fake nose, spoke in a fake voice, and adopted the personality of a nerdy lecher.

About 25 years later, presidential candidate DJ Trump got into hot water when video footage surfaced of him encouraging the nephew of former president George H.W. Bush that, upon seeing beautiful women, he should grab 'em in the biscuits, albeit less euphemistically. There was immediate hue and cry from the fifth estate.

DJ Trump's wife Melania rushed to his aid with a press release, stating that the man in the video is not the man she knows, that this nerdy lecher Trumpty Trump character in the video is merely one of DJ Trump's alter egos and that the real DJ Trump is worthy of leading the free world. This was one of the first, if not the first, public statements from Melania after giving a speech in which she bit lines from one of Michelle Obama's speeches--once Melania's status as a sucka MC was discovered she went underground.

In a stunning turn of events, Republicans holding elected federal offices felt that Trumpty Trump's advice to Lil Bush was unbecoming of a presidential candidate. In a moment of tremendous courage, Rep. Jason Chaffetz (R-Utah) withdrew his support for DJ Trump, noting that he cannot look his 15-year-old daughter in the eye and tell her what Trumpty Trump said. Seriously, he said "My wife and I, we have a 15-year-old daughter, and if I can’t look her in the eye and tell her these things, I can’t endorse this person." Here's the video.



I guess this means that Rep. Chaffetz can look his daughter in the eye and tell her that Mexicans are rapists; that Gonzalo Curiel is not qualified to judge non-Hispanics because he is of Mexican ancestry; that we should discriminate against immigrants based on their race, religion, or nation of origin; that we should ban Muslims from entering the country; that it's presidential to discuss the size of one's penis; that Saddam Hussein was and Vladimir Putin is strong and effective leaders; that John McCain isn't a hero for his service; that Muslim Gold Star parents don't deserve respect.

Predictably, many Republicans are now walking away from DJ Trump and his Trumpty Trump character. What a bunch of buffoons. After all the atrocities DJ Trump spit on the mic, they expect me to believe that this new misogyny in a litany of woman-hating quotes is the final bridge too far? Of course it isn't. If Trump had a snowball's chance against Hillary they'd still be standing with him. Now that he's tanked in the polls and the debate they're jumping ship at the first opportunity.

I detest the Bush and potential Clinton dynasties. I am disgusted by the idea that the past five presidencies could be held by only three families. It runs against the Founders' intent and common sense--what's the likelihood that four of the best qualified people to be president are contained in two generations of two families? I probably would have voted for any reasonable Republican candidate who didn't run on a platform involving "more guns and more god" as a plank.

Instead I'm voting Democrat on the entire ticket. The top of the ticket is deeply flawed but greatly preferable to the alternative, and the rest of the slate cannot possibly have less integrity than the clowns on the other side of the aisle in Washington.

Hopefully DJ Trump and his Trumpty Trump shtick will fade into relative obscurity like Shock G and Humpty Hump. But I wouldn't count on it.

G:TB Blows Up

Dave mocked it, because he couldn't understand it. To be fair, Dave has a mental disorder that makes him unable to comprehend normal human emotional range, but he still mocked it.

Davo and Rog understood it, though.

A few short days ago, in celebration of the news that Bob Bradley had been tabbed as the first American manager of an English Premier League side, I tweeted a decidedly mixed message.

The point of this hyperbolic sentiment was that Bradley's tenure as Swansea manager will have an outsized impact on the future of American soccer. If he succeeds, doors open for American coaches and players. If he fails, if the pressure, or the media, or the fans, or the fact that he doesn't have great players at the moment conspire to see Swansea relegated this Spring, then doors close to Americans for a  long time. Bob Bradley carries a lot of weight on his American shoulders.

Men in Blazers' Twitter feed retweeted my take, which earned me fleeting internet fame, as well as Dave's derision when I mentioned it in the GTB comments.

But yesterday, America's leading soccer podcast doubled down on my genius. Check out the most recent Men in Blazers podcast, and skip ahead to 22:15. Check in a few minutes earlier if you want context.



If you're too lazy to go to the audio, here's the transcript: "@batogato tweeted us beautifully," said Roger Bennett, before reading the tweet. "You couldn't have put it better. Starting October 15, the whole of this country will be cheering for Bob. Godspeed."

I'm a pretty big deal.

Gheorghie Service Announcement

I guess I could've just texted this to a couple of guys, but I'm sitting here with a killer case of writer's block and trying to reverse jinx the Red Sox by sort of ignoring the first game of the ALDS, so...anyway.

Those of you who dig Drive-By Truckers undoubtedly know about their new record, American Band. NPR Music, which, if you haven't heard us say it enough, is one of the best outlets on the internet for killer music of all kinds, got the band to play the new tunes in front of a live audience. Though the P stands for public, they don't let you embed the video, which is a bit ironic. But you can find it here.

The Houston Press hails the record as not just another terrific rock album, but the culmination of the Truckers' political evolution into the progressive voice of the modern South. From the review, "And some might say that we should have seen this one coming. The Drive-By Truckers have never shied away from pissing people off or addressing the tough issues, but this album represents something much bigger than political ideology or commentary on the state of the South. With American Band, the Drive-By Truckers are ultimately redefining the Southern identity."

"What It Means", the first single from the record pulls no punches, going in straightaway on Trayvon Martin and racial inequality. Judging from social media, it pissed off a lot of Truckers fans. Which may well have been expected. But as The Houston Press concludes, "...being “Ever South” doesn’t have to mean being quite so ass-backwards."

There Should Have Been Only One

In all the hubbub in my life last week, I missed my opportunity to celebrate a singular artistic achievement, one that marks a distinct moment in my life. On September 27, Lionsgate (the same people that gave us 'More Than a Game', which led to what's quite possibly G:TB's peak achievement) released a 30th Anniversary DVD and Blu-Ray of Highlander.

If 2016 marked the 30th anniversary of one of the great, underrated action adventure flicks, it also served as the 27th (ish) anniversary of the first (of dozens) of times Clarence, Dave, Whitney, Almighty Yojo, and I watched that same movie in the Pit, the central gathering area of the College of William & Mary's Unit M, erstwhile home of the Virginia Psi chapter of Pi Lambda Phi (a non-sectarian fraternity).

It's been years since I watched Connor MacLeod's (of the Clan MacLeod) story in its entirety, and I suppose it may be possible that the plot that I found so enjoyable as a young man doesn't stand the test of time. Fuck, it's been 30 years, after all. But I have no doubt that Clancy Brown's Kurgan holds firm to his rightful place amongst the greatest villains in cinematic history.



The word sinister was coined to describe that dude.

In retrospect, the casting of Frenchman Christopher Lambert as the Scotsman MacLeod might've been questionable, and the main character's acting range in the film is charitably described as limited, but you try living for a millennium knowing the Kurgan raped and killed the love of your life and see how animated you are.

One of the real wonders, all these years later, is why they never made a sequel to such a cult classic. Done well, it would've been box office gold. Real shame, that.

This Is a Big Fucking Deal

Swansea sack Francesco Guidolin and appoint Bob Bradley manager

Godspeed, Bob Bradley.

Brewges

If I'm being honest, I gotta admit that this election is affecting my mood, if not my mental health. I intellectually understand the rise of Trump, but I can't fathom how so many people I consider to be rational adults look at the choice before us and gleefully choose the least qualified major party candidate in modern history. I'm really at a loss, and it's making me reconsider my worldview, which is generally aligned with the whole moral arc bends towards justice thing.

So I think I need to spend more time thinking about beer. And I believe I've found a place to help me do that.

Bruges is one of the world's oldest and most historic cities. It was chartered in 1128, but civilization there dates back to at least the 9th century BC. A city that old, with so much history, has a lot to protect. And a city like Bruges, that loves beer, needs a lot of trucks to rumble around narrow, cobblestone streets to deliver suds. The combination isn't optimal for those who would preserve the West Flanders capital city, a UNSECO protected site.

Enter the geniuses at De Halve Maan brewery, who have been delivering quaffs to Bruges' citizens since 1856. As of two weeks ago, they won't be sending delivery trucks across the city, but they'll be supplying just as many establishments.

Their secret? A 3 km network of pipes that pump beer directly from their tanks to a bottling plant in close proximity to the historic district. The result, fewer truck trips, less wear and tear on centuries-old streets, and beer flowing beneath one of Europe's great little cities.

The next, obvious step, for an enterprising brewery seems obvious. Direct pipes from brewery to taps across a city. Cut out the need for delivery vehicles entirely. And make Flanders great again.