The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Five

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

Five Beers and Tunes

Four Resolutions

Three Gheorghemas Gifts to Give Yourself

Two Stones of Weight Loss (Your Mileage May Vary)

and Running Gags with Quatro Kitties

 

Beers leverage a variety of hops to make them unique, just like songs relies on different loops/sounds to make each one unique. Below are music and beer pairings from NPR’s top songs of 2021 to enjoy through Gheorghemas (if you can find the beers).

 

#5 – Sharon Van Etten & Angel Olsen's - Like I Used To & Rusty Nickel’s Hazy Girl (5.5%)

Two amazing songwriters collaborating over the pandemic speaks to a collaboration beer. But not just any collaboration, but a Pink Boots collaboration beer. For this tune, pop open a tasty Hazy Girl and enjoy the ride.

#4 – Megan Thee Stallion – Thot Shit & New Belgium La Folie (7%)

I’ll be honest on this one, I have no idea what the hell is going on in this song but it’s thot shit. So pop the top of highly-rated beer from New Belgium and a woman brewer, La Folie. This beer is sour with a kick of higher alcohol -- well, at least compared to your PBRs and Bud Lights of the world. 

#3 – Lucy Dacus – Thumbs & Lawson’s Sip of Sunshine (8%)

This dark song about a father’s unspeakable acts with the lyric “I would kill him” needs a more uplifting drink. Enter Lawson’s piney Sip of Sunshine to still leave a little bitter note with a ray of hope.

 

#2 Wet Leg - Chaise Lounge & PBR (4.6%)

“Are you coming backstage after the show?

Because I've got a chaise longue in my dressing room

And a pack of warm beer that we can consume”

pairs well with the rockstar’s beer of choice: PBR. So crack open a warm PBR and enjoy this tune.

 

#1 Lil Nas X - Montero & New Holiday’s Dragon’s Milk Triple Mash version (17%)

The Triple Mash version of Dragon’s Milk is described as “the ultimate indulgence” for an aged stout. Why a stout? I’m told Lil NAs X is stout down there.

Drink 'em if you can find 'em.

Birds Aren't Real

In the late 60s and early 70s, the CIA launched a massive clandestine program to kill off America's bird population and replace it with extremely lifelike drones in order to create a continental aerial surveillance system. 

And they would've succeeded fully if not for the dedicated bravery and patriotism of the Birds Aren't Real movement. Originally founded in 1976 as a whistleblower action, the movement was forced underground in 1991 and only recently became active again. Peter McIndoe, a 23 year-old college dropout from Memphis revived the campaign, which has grown to include thousands of mostly young people concerned about government spying on citizens. The group has received coverage in recent weeks from a broad range of media outlets, including as august a publication as The New York Times.

I know what you're thinking. This is absurd. But if it can be true that Hillary Clinton led a pedophile ring out of a pizza parlor in Washington, DC and John F. Kennedy is still alive and will return to lead the nation and the 2020 Presidential election was stolen, then why can't it be true that the birds we see in the sky are surveillance drones? Checkmate, sheeple.

Okay, fine. Birds Aren't Real isn't real. Or at least it doesn't really believe that birds aren't real. Despite McIndoe's finely honed counter-arguments and the movement's elaborately detailed pastiche of evidence, the founders admit that they've got ulterior motives. Claire Chronis, a Birds Aren't Real organizer from Pittsburgh, let the NYT onto the game, “My favorite way to describe the organization is fighting lunacy with lunacy.”

Gen Z has come of age in a world beset by batshittery. QAnon counts adherents in the goddamn United States Congress. Benghazi became a ubiquitous battle cry. Millions of people think Bill Gates is trying to implant microchips through fucking vaccines for the love of God.

I applaud the effort, even as I see a fraught potential outcome. I fear an ouroboros endgame, where the joke ultimately eats itself and people that don't get the parody start to believe in it. We're a nation primed to believe conspiracy theories about government overreach. The aforementioned QAnon is a prime example of the devastating consequences that follow what when people can't tell the difference between insane conspiracy and reality, led by grifters who profit upon their ignorance. I hope the Birds Aren't Real kids can avoid that muddle and lead us out of the mire.

And so on balance, I pleased to see at least a little corner of Gen Z is fighting back, seeing absurdity abound and raising it.

God Bless those loons. Who aren't real. But are. We need them.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Four

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

Four Resolutions

Three Gheorghemas Gifts to Give Yourself

Two Stones of Weight Loss (Your Mileage May Vary)

and Running Gags with Quatro Kitties

I know what you're thinking. Resolutions are as useless as the pixels they're written on, and yours, rob, are even less useful than that. We know you and your weak will, after all.

First of all, that's not very nice. But at least I know where I stand. Jerks.

But you're right. My history of follow-through is as sketchy as an Uzbek cryptocurrency. That doesn't
mean I shouldn't try. And I've had some semi-breakthroughs of late. I have a 70-week Peloton riding streak going (I'm no zman, but I try). I drink at least 80 ounces of water every day (and at least 48 ounces of coffee and 32 ounces of beer - all the ounces up in here). Baby steps.

There are some things I definitely want to focus on in the new year. I could start now, but why do that when there's a completely arbitrary demarcation that allows me three solid weeks of procrastination?

For starters, I'm doubling down on kindness. One of the managers that works for me is retiring at the end of the year. He's been with our business for about five years, and his current job is a pretty big step down from where he was at the peak of his career with one of our competitors. He took the job because he thrives on teaching and coaching sales reps. He's as good at it as anyone I've ever met. 

He's so good because he genuinely cares for his people, and approaches his job with caring and kindness. I've learned more from him than he'll ever know. 

I've always tried to be a 'good' person, but I've never really connected that to leadership until I met this fellow. Since then, I've come across some great writing by people like Tom Peters who draw a clear line between taking care of people and team performance. This article by Fast Company illustrates the difference between being kind and being nice and how the former yields real-world benefits. 

As a corollary to my first resolution, I really, really want to be less angry* at the state of the world. Fuck, but I find too many reasons to rant pointlessly into the intervoid. I don't need to catalogue the various violations that offend me - you've heard them before. 2022 is a decent year to try to temper my rage, since we're still two+ years away from turning the country fully over to the dark side, so I can conserve some energy. 

* I'm really going to try, honest. I don't have high hopes for this one.

One of the proximate causes of my anger is almost certainly the amount of time I spend on social media. I can't give you a good estimate of the number of hours I've spent on the Tweet machine this year, but it's certainly too high to be healthy. And conversely, my time spent reading is way, way down. At the moment, the following books sit on the side table in my living room in various stages of completion:

• Deacon King Kong, by James McBride
• Soccer IQ (Vols. 1 & 2), by Dan Blank
• The Autobiography of Malcolm X, as told to Alex Haley
• Political Tribes, by Amy Chua
• Our Towns, by James and Deborah Fallows
• I'll Be Gone in the Dark, by Michelle McNamara
• Sorry for Your Trouble, by Richard Ford

I've also got about a year's worth of hard copies of The Atlantic to work through. And Dave's about to drop seven more books on the pile. I totally need to make it a point to read more.

I'm in a pretty good spot, fitness-wise, so I'm not going to make a point to focus there. So long as my knee holds out, I can play soccer, ride my bike, run a little bit, and generally stay active. Keeping busy coaching soccer and volunteering on the board of the local club, so doing at least a little bit for my community. I don't lack for good eating and drinking - not messing with that, even though I'd probably sleep better if I did less of the latter.

No, I think I'm about experiences now. Many of us lost a close friend earlier this month. I've seen colleagues and neighbors lose parents, brothers, and even a son just in the past two weeks. The whole quickening of the passage of time thing is a cliché, but that doesn't make the days slow down. And I want to spend those days doing interesting things with the people that make me happy.

And so among other things (spending time with my wife in the early days of our empty nesting come
August comes to mind), I resolve to see every Gheorghie at least once this year. Starting making the bed in your guest room, friends - I'm crashing your scene. 

Can't wait.

And Then There Was Micky

Pour out some bubblegum-flavored pop for Mike Nesmith, the wildly underrated songwriting backbone of The Monkees, who passed today.

And if you think this is a way for me to procrastinate writing Day Four of Gheorghemas, I won't correct you. Not even using Wite-out.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Three

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

Three Gheorghemas Gifts to Give Yourself

Two Stones of Weight Loss (Your Mileage May Vary)

and Running Gags with Quatro Kitties

I previously gave you some gift ideas for Mother's Day and Father's Day.  I now present the three things I enjoyed the most in 2021 as potential Gheorghemas gifts to give yourself or others.

A Peloton bike

I ordered a Peloton bike in July 2020 and it arrived in November 2020.  The next day I sprained the daylights out of my ankle raking leaves (I rolled it when I stepped off the curb into a pothole in the gutter).

As a result I wasn't able to use it until January 2, 2021.  Since then I've done 367 rides on what I estimate to be 218 days, along with 108 strength workouts, 4 yoga practices and 3 cardio classes.  That's 333 days of exercise over the last 341 days.  Those of you who know me best are stunned--rootsy probably passed out when he read that.  For the rest of you, it's safe to say that I worked out more in the past 11 months than I did in the previous 11 years.

Why?  I'm middle aged, I have (or had) high blood pressure, and the day before I ordered the bike zdaughter poked me in the love handle and said "Wow Daddy, your belly goes all the way over to there?"  I was the fattest I've ever been, about 187 pounds, and my slight frame isn't meant to carry that much weight.

So I exercised a lot, essentially quit drinking, but continued to eat more or less whatever the hell I want but only between the hours of 11 am and 7 pm (OBX Dave stole my thunder).  I get horrible sleep when I drink so I don't miss the booze.  I didn't eat breakfast between the ages of 13 and 28 (which was when I was at my skinniest) so the fasting wasn't hard.  I started eating breakfast at 28 because a bunch of motherly women at work heckled me into eating "the most important meal of the day," and other people convinced me it was important to jump start my metabolism in the morning to keep my weight down but looking back at things, this is when I started gaining weight generally.

The Peloton was key though.  It's fun, it's convenient, and yes it's expensive but not much more than a gym membership and my health insurance covered a few months of the streaming subscription.  I've always hated gym-class-style exercise but the combination of good music, entertaining instructors, and on-demand content all in my basement made me want to keep doing it.  You also get an output score during the ride so you have a goal to shoot for, and you can see other people's scores as you ride which keeps the competitive juices flowing.  It's perfect.

via GIPHY

And I lost 18 pounds!  I am literally 169 pounds right now and I want to lose another 4-9 more.  I feel great.  I had to dig through my drawers to find my old belts to keep my pants from falling off I'm so much thinner.  

Bonobos Extra Stretch Travel Jeans

I kept my old belts but not my old pants so I needed new ones.  I've been wearing Bonobos pants for about 15 years.  They're great, although I prefer the original chinos to the new ones--they added some stretch that reduces the need to iron but adds a sheen I don't like.

Their Extra Stretch Travel Jeans solve this problem.  They look like and fit like jeans, but they feel more like sweatpants.  As the name implies, they are stretchy but there is zero sheen.  They come in a bunch of different colors.  I got Walla Walla Walnut because they split the difference between jeans and khakis, but they're actually darker than pictured on the internet so it's more of a brown.  The Amarillo Tan is also darker in reality so it's really khaki.

Hollah at me (or challah at me for Hanukkah) and I'll send you a 25% off referral coupon.

Glerups

Glerups are the best slippers ever.  They're Danish and thus exceedingly hygge.  The uppers are wool felt, and they keep your feet at exactly the right temperature.  Never too hot so your feet don't sweat but never cold either.  They come with leather or rubber soles, in backless slip-on, shoe, and boot styles.  I have the shoes with rubber soles (in gum, natch) and I wear them around the house every day, all four seasons.  I asked for them for Gheorghemas last year and I raved so much that zwoman got herself a pair of the slip-ons.  She is 100% on board and wears hers daily too.  You need cozy slippers if you're going to work from home all the time.

Yes, they look like cartoon shoes.  Yes, my feet look like Smurf feet.  Yes, zwoman's dog think they taste good so the left one has seen better days.  Yes, I'm wearing colored stretch denim.  I don't care.  I feel healthy, my pants feel comfy, and my feet feel cozy.  That's all I can ask for at this stage of my life, and I wish you the same this Gheorghemas.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Two

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

Two Stones of Weight Loss (Your Mileage May Vary)

and Running Gags with Quatro Kitties

An OBX Dave Joint

Y’all come to this site for health advice like guys go to strip clubs for the cheeseburgers. However, I thought as we all move toward and past the half-century mark, anything that might provide help is worth a look.

Dieting and weight loss was a $78-billion industry in the U.S., pre-pandemic, and the global market for weight loss products and services is expected to hit $255 billion in 2021. There are dozens of diets – high-fat, high-carb, low-fat, low-carb, vegan, paleo, ketogenic, Atkins, Mediterranean. Many require people to drastically alter what they eat and force metabolic changes to achieve desired results. Some market their own foods for their programs at hefty sums, such as Weight Watchers, Nutri System, Jenny Craig, Slim Fast, Herbalife.

One program, however, does nothing like that, and may in fact save money. That’s because it doesn’t target *what* people eat, but *when* they eat. It’s known as intermittent fasting, and it’s a daily or weekly practice that confines people’s eating to a specific time frame. The most common and effective is what’s called the 16:8 program. An eight-hour window in which people eat, and a 16-hour cycle in which they eat nothing.

The science is, essentially, if people go from Pop Tarts to popcorn, eating and snacking during their waking hours, the body is constantly in some state of digestion and storing leftovers. It limits the ability to maintain and cleanse itself. Researchers and scientists point out that our hunter-gatherer ancestors sometimes went days without food and functioned quite well. Agriculture made food more plentiful, and more recently grocery stores and Waffle House make food available 24/7, often to the body’s detriment.

After going hours without food, the body exhausts its sugar store and instead burns fat. Enzymes that would be involved in digestion are instead focused on breaking down toxins. The liver also gets involved, converting non-carbohydrate materials such as lactate, amino acids and fats into glucose energy. Fasting also puts the body under mild stress, causing cells to become stronger, much like muscles and the cardiovascular system from exercise.

According to a study published in the New England Journal of Medicine, intermittent fasting results in weight loss, it lowers blood pressure and resting heart rate and levels blood sugar. It can help stave off type 2 diabetes and heart disease. In areas of thinking and memory, working memory in animals and verbal memory in humans improved. In young men, it helped prevent obesity and resulted in fat loss, while maintaining muscle mass.

An intermittent fasting program doesn’t dictate what people eat, but implied is that they eat reasonably and reasonably well. Don’t binge mozzarella sticks or Doritos, but again it’s not prohibited. Lean meat, veggies, fruits, nuts, whole grains. A couple of meals, or maybe one big meal and smaller munches throughout the eating period. Whatever works. 

Ideally, people are asleep for 7-8 hours during the fasting portion, so there are eight or nine hours when awake with no food. During that time, people are permitted to drink zero-calorie beverages, such as water, tea and black coffee, which provides some semblance of fullness before and after the eating period. The most common eating windows are 11 a.m.-7 p.m., or noon to 8 p.m., but again it’s up to the individual. There’s also an alternative fasting regimen known as 5:2, in which people eat normally five days a week, but the other two they’re limited to one 500-600-calorie meal and the aforementioned drinks.

“Fasting” is probably too extreme a term for the program. It’s not prison hunger strike-level, or Ramadan-style fasting where people ingest nothing from dawn to sunset for 30 days. It’s more like scheduled eating and abstaining. But “fasting” is more fashionable shorthand, and in a fat-ass society of abundance, anything within the same area code as real sacrifice is ripe for overly dramatic verbiage.

All diets or body change programs require some discipline. Kids and family meal times, and irregular work schedules might make fasting a challenge. The holidays aren’t the easiest time to implement a restricted eating program, with parties and get-togethers. Researchers say it takes the body two-to-four weeks to adjust to the change. Some folks get cranky going without food in the early stages of the program, but nutritionists and dieticians say that if they get past the transition period they begin to feel better and are more likely to stick with it.

Or, folks could just practice moderation, exercise and get proper sleep. But where’s the fun in that?

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day One

It's a yearly tradition for me to both delay the start of Gheorghemas due to procrastination AND make it all about me, so here we are folks. Dig in for the most wonderful time of the year.

On the first day of Gheorghemas

Big Gheorghe gave to me

Running gags with quatro kitties

Happy Gheorghemas to you and yours...let's get this party started.

Wrapped

Like many consumers of streamed music, I just got my year-in-review recap from Spotify. A couple of caveats before we get into the results, which are largely predictable, with one very notable exception:

• I listened to a lot more podcasts this year on Spotify than I did music. My 1,407 minutes of music on Spotify only ranked me in the 27th percentile of users. If my podcast app did the same thing as Spotify, it would tell you that my top listen was NPR's Up First (which is my early-morning dogwalk starter), followed by The Right Time with Bomani Jones, Men in Blazers, and 99% Invisible.
• I tend to fixate on a band for a period of time to the exclusion of others. This will become obvious as you read this post.

Without further ado, my top five songs of the year.

This one was filmed at Norfolk Academy's 2014 Homecoming. Guessing a Gheorghie might've seen this live and in person.

I do love this song.

This was the first song I ever heard on the very first iPod I ever owned, courtesy of my man Whitney, who loaded it with a fuckton of music.

There's a thematic consistency, at least. Spotify says my aura for 2021 was wistful and poignant. So, yeah.

Three of the bands represented on the top five songs list also made it into my top five bands of 2021, so I won't give you anything more by The Avett Brothers (#2), Wilco (#3), or Crowded House (#5). 

The band I listened to the most is also the one I saw in the last show of the before times. I find myself pretty frequently dialing up their stuff, because I really dig their sound and lyrics - they put me in a good headspace. Proud to say that I was in the top 6% of all Spotify users in terms of the number of times I listed to these guys:

Which leaves the number four artist on my list. It came initially quite a surprise to me, but then I realized that this performer released two records over the past 18 months that my daughter loved and turned me onto. And that one of those records featured one of my favorite indie artists. So there's a reason Taylor Swift made it onto my list.

I listened to a few things other than Indie/Alt/Swifty stuff. Here's what Spotify compiled as my songs of the year.

The World's Best Rock and Roll Band

The header to this post is a quote from Iggy Pop. He was talking about Sleaford Mods, a Nottingham, England-based punk duo.

I stumbled up upon the Sleafords the other day and have spent the past few nights down a grimy post-industrial truth-telling rabbit hole. Lead singer and lyricist Jason Williamson has an austere, raspy spoken-word style, which he delivers over DJ Andrew Fearn's stripped-down electronic soundtrack. The band has slowly built an audience since their founding in 2007, not charting until their eighth record, and rising as high as fourth in England with their latest, Spare Ribs. They just performed their first arena show, fittingly in Nottingham. The review is spectacular.

Williamson's influences include both Stone Roses and the Wu Tang Clan, which is excellent. In the extended trailer for a documentary about the band entitled Bunch of Kunst (see below) we see how those styles combine.

Here are a handful of Mods videos, the first of which features Billy Nomates, a revelation in her own right.

Emergency Filler, Alternatively Titled "Emergency Ghostface Fillah"

I've said it before and now I'm saying it again: Ghostface Killah gives ridiculous interviews.  Here's one where he tells the (NSFW) story about the time he got in a shootout with the Delfonics (they were in the van with him, he wasn't shooting at them).

Here are some links to provide further context.

Gheorghasbord: Dance in Your Pants

Some of my favorite folks in the world of dance have been making moves lately, in ways both expected and not so much. 

Starting close to home, my wife and I had a pair of opportunities to see our kidlet dance live for the first time in nearly two years down in Richmond. VCUArts presented a student showcase in late October, which was the first time our daughter ever put her own choreography on stage. It was funky and a bit eerie and weird. Which is just how she wanted it. The event included a Q&A with each of the choreographers, and she got a laugh from her classmates when she said that she had a "unique movement style" and that she was seeking to create "ugly dances". Unconventional and quirky, just like her. 

A couple of weeks later, she danced in two different pieces as part of the school's Senior Showcase, which features senior class artists debuted their capstone works. Neither event was filmed, so we'll have to settle for this odd perspective of one of the rehearsals for a piece entitled 'Sacred Chaos' by Sarah Grace. Click through and you'll see it. My kid is the little one with a mullet wearing all white in the video. She got a lot of love from the crowd during a brief spotlight in the piece, which was dark and moody and insistent.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by VCU Dance Fall 2021 Seniors (@class.of.frequency)

Much farther afield, the adventures of our favorite choreographer have taken a very unique turn. We first met Jimmie Manners here at GTB when we celebrated his impact on my then 12 year-old. He's toured as a dancer with Jennifer Lopez, taught kids, and choreographed music videos. And now, in a twist he never saw coming, he's a member of the coaching staff for ION-Wheaton Ice Skating Academy (ION-WISA), teaching hip hop to world-class ice dancers.

He called to tell us about his new move over the summer, and we all thought he was punking us. Not so, as it turns out. In September 2020 the International Skating Union announced that street dance rhythms would be a required element of ice dance competitions for 2021-22. Several ice dance teams contacted our man Jimmie about working with them, and after he realized they were serious, he took on a new project. 

Jimmie and a couple of his teams just returned from Austria, where they competed in the Graz Ice Challenge. Here's video from a few weeks earlier, where Caroline Green and Michael Parsons finished third at the ISU CS Autumn Classic International 2021 in Pierrefonds Montreal, QC.

You can catch several signature Jimmie moves in the piece, including the concluding sequence. 

It is such a very cool thing seeing people create and bring something new into the world. When it's people you care about doing that, it warms one's soul right down to the ground.

In Case You Didn't Get Your Phil Yesterday

This tweet and video, posted by a great dude I went to high school with, took me mildly aback.

Oh the irony. #PhilCollins is still rocking even if he’s not walking. #Genesis pic.twitter.com/STH1CIbm4H

— Danny Rosin (@DannyRosin) November 20, 2021

As Danny is wont to do, he found the beauty in the sadness. He saw Phil Collins, once one of the most vibrant and proficient kit men/front men in rock and roll, relegated to a chair onstage. He saw the strength and defiance, the middle finger in the face of health challenges and old age.

I have to admit this... I first watched it and saw the wilt. Heard the wither. Maybe it's just that I dig Genesis a lot but don't enjoy that song. Maybe I just fail the gheorghey test on this one. Maybe I missed again.

Phil Collins and Genesis take a bit of heat from the rock intelligentsia, and they've got some of that coming to them. There was at least a modicum if not an abundance of edge to this band way back when. That faded into the ether along the way. Rock/pop became pop/rock, and then they dispensed with that pesky rock part. So be it, they made the kind of wealth that such moves sometimes beget, and Phil needed it down the stretch, what with the three divorces and such. (Unrelated: Anybody listen to Billy Joel's Glass Houses lately?)

Patrick Bateman and I have lots in common, which you probably realized right off the bat. This monologue is precisely as I see the world of Genesis. In the beginning. "I really didn't understand any of their work. Too artsy, too intellectual." Alas, Mr. Bateman goes a little crazy after that. You know, when he says, "I think Invisible Touch was the group's undisputed masterpiece." I formally register my dispute. 

If there is a masterpiece album of the trio era of Genesis, it's either Abacab or the s/t album from '83. But there's little need in scurrying down that particular squirrel hole. If you look at the body of work between 1980 and 1986, both with Rutherford/Banks and solo, there's a treasure trove of singles worth bopping along to:

Take a listen to these old tunes again, and really listen to the drums -- more than you would otherwise. It's fairly distinctly Phil Collins. And it's some good shit, I'm telling tell you.

Actually, if you want to learn more about Phil the Shill's worth as a drummer... well, other people more in the know have written it better than I ever could. He's no Keith Moon but his fills kick a bit of ass. He hasn't Neil Peart's virtuosic skill but he has his respect. He ranks #43 on stupid Rolling Stone's stupid list of the best drummers of all time. Doesn't sound that good, but it's higher than Mick Fleetwood, Max Weinberg, AVH, and may more.

So what happened to Phil Collins? After his songwriting and recording career slowed to a stop, he'd still hit the road now and then with or without Mike and Tony. But then he had a spinal injury, two not-so-great words that don't go great at all together. Back surgeries. Nerve damage. Falls. Fractures. Oh, and pancreatitis and diabetes. There are plenty of tabloid stories as well, if you're Marls and read the NY Post.

He can't hold a drumstick. He can't play piano. He has to sit onstage. He can barely sing, it seems. 

He'll never go back into the stu-stu-studio. But he has fought through it enough to get out there and do it on a Genesis tour called "The Last Domino." Technically, there's a question mark that follows that last word. But is there really?

Who knows? He's pushing harder and doing more than most folks would have figured by looking at him. And he doesn't care anymore. He's out there. Against all odds. 

Danny was right.

But also... also... did you know??? Phil Collins played drums on a host of other people's songs. Listen for the PC sound. 

Phil Collins played on a number of songs with his old bandmate. "Intruder" is another great one. This one crushes, especially the fills after "swarm of bees"...

I had no idea...

I really had no idea...

Howard Jones did the drums himself on the album version. Then wised up for a re-release of this single with PC manning the kit.

I really REALLY had no idea...

It's the day after Thanksgiving, so this is fair game.

That's all.

GTB's Annual Thanksgiving Tradition

Some year we should figure out what GTBer is Les Nessman, or Venus Flytrap, or The Big Guy (we already know Marls is Herb Tarlek)... but until we do that, let's all just enjoy the greatest Thanksgiving-themed TV episode of all time:

 

OK, two vintage ads I think we will enjoy, and of course, Orenthal:

Whit's submission is an all-timer:

Words to Live By

“My forties are kicking my ass/And handing them to me in a margarita glass.” In a smooth opening line that makes Christopher Cross look like an amateur sailor, Jenny Lewis kicks off “Puppy and a Truck” with a realistic view of her life, complete with unconditional love from her dog and a pedal steel guitar. Welcome to Lewis’ yacht-rock era. Pour a drink and stay a while.

That's the opening graf of Rolling Stone's review of Jenny Lewis' new single, "Puppy and a Truck". I saw her play this live as she opened for Harry Styles a few months ago. It's a different sound for her, but the lyrics are terrific, and it's Jenny Freaking Lewis, people. Get your Thanksgiving week started with some easy-listenin', alt-rock-style.

We Had a Good Run

Au contraire, aphorism!

I am, by nature, an optimist. To be more specific, I'm lazy, so I assume most things are likely to work out, so I expect the best. With a few exceptions, mostly concerning things that don't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things, that philosophy has worked for me.

This places me at odds frequently with lawyers who work for my company. I argue on the regular that the risks they're pointing out in customer contracts are extremely unlikely to be made manifest, and regardless, they're risks I'm willing to accept. Out my way, counselor! I've got a business to run.

On that front, I've yet to be caught out. Largely because experience tells me that even if we screw something up with a customer, if we've built a good relationship, we can work it out without running the contract or the company into a ditch.

I say all this as preface to the main point of this essay, which is that our society is fucked because our collective experience doesn't matter at a time when too many of the foundational norms of our body politic have turned to quicksand.

It's been coming for a minute. We were shocked when Newt Gingrich decided to shut down the Federal Government back in the 90s because such a thing was unthinkable. (Whitney was less shocked than really happy for the time off.) Imagine what we'd have said back then if we were told that a sitting Congressman had Tweeted an anime video depicting the murder of a colleague and a threat to the President?

First, we would've said, "what the fuck does 'Tweeted' mean, and what is an anime?". But then after someone explained those post-modern societal features, we'd have not believed such a thing possible. Surely, though, we'd expect such a norm-violator to be roundly and unanimously sanctioned by fellow legislators. 

And just as surely, we'd have been wrong. 207 members of the House of Representatives, all Republican, did not see fit to censure Rep. Paul Gosar (R-AZ) for Tweeting such a video about fellow Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY). I understand political opponents strongly disagreeing with Rep. Ocasio-Cortez's policy views, because she's on the leftmost side of the spectrum. I do not for a moment understand how even jokey threats of violence became acceptable political discourse among adherents of one of our two major political parties. For her part, AOC's words are hard to argue with, and fell entirely upon the deafest of ears amongst those who most needed to hear them.

After his censure, Gosar once again Tweeted the offending video. Because he's a toddler meathead fuck.

Outside of the realm of politics, outrage has become one of the surest paths to profit. Alex Jones, Charlie Kirk, Jason Whitlock, Clay Travis, Jack Posobiec, and the retinue of grifting angermongers that queue up alongside them to monetize our divisions are as smart as they are opportunistic. There's gold in them thar clicks. 

Good job, good effort

This reliable group of rage amplifiers team up with shadowy manipulators like the Koch Brothers to drive real outcomes in our world. The wholly specious Critical Race Theory nonsense centered in my county this autumn was birthed by a dude named Christopher Rufo, funded by a Byzantine network of folks who couldn't find Loudoun County on a map, handled poorly by Terry McAuliffe, and deftly exploited by Glenn Youngkin all the way to the Governor's mansion in Richmond.

Tom Nichols, author of The Death of Expertise and a reliable chronicler of the decline of civil engagement assesses things well in an excellent newsletter piece in The Atlantic.

Unfortunately, we’ve become a nation, to steal a line from Peggy Noonan, of “sullen paranoids,” in which millions of us have embraced a toxic combination of fantasy and stupidity. This is more than just the revival of conspiracy theories, which always lurk just beneath the surface of every society. This is far worse. From “microchips in the vaccines” to QAnon, from Venezuelan voting machines to Russian-hacked voting machines, from faked moon landings to “January 6 was antifa or the FBI or maybe both,” too many of our fellow citizens are adrift, lost, freaked-out, and willing to believe almost anything, especially if it helps to support their preexisting political narratives and tribal loyalties.

I could go on, but most readers of this here blog have at least a passing understanding of the things Dr. Nichols and I describe. That's all setup for this punch line.

I don't think there's a way back, at least in my lifetime.

Partisan division was once about policy with a soupcon of racism thrown in. And yes, the Democrats were the racists. Or, to be clear, the more racist party. Now division a cultural touchstone. 59% of Republicans in a recent poll agreed that supporting Donald Trump was a prerequisite to being a member of the GOP. Not supporting a strong military, or lower taxes, or small government. Supporting Donald Trump. To harvest liberal tears, one assumes. A goddamn vaccine, something we give our children 29 times before they're 18 months old, became a symbol of which team you're on. We are a deeply unserious people.

And given the state of legislative gerrymandering, the GOP's generally better organization, the pandemic's continued drag on...well, everything, it's highly likely that the 2022 elections are dismal for Democrats. Which will send us into a deeper spiral of bad governance, rewarding political extremism  and escalating anger on both sides.

It will, my friends, get much worse before it gets better.

Reasonable minds may disagree, and Nichols suggests a path, saying, "But I am convinced (and I’ll return to this theme in the future in this newsletter) that the remedy for saving our corroded public life lies within ourselves rather than through the law and regulation. Turning to someone you know and telling them that the Earth is round, that vaccines work, that JFK Jr. is as dead as Julius Caesar—and that you are not willing to argue about it for three hours—is not an act of hostility. It’s an act of civic virtue, of friendship, even of love. And we need to do more of it."

I hope he's right and I'm wrong. But history suggests I rarely am, at least in matters of Trump-inspired politifuckery.

I'm having a hard time staying optimistic. I hear people in Norway are pretty happy with their lot in life. And if we keep fucking the environment, it'll be a lot easier to get my hygge on with the new climate in my pad in Oslo. Doors always open for you lot.

Filling Your Day with Fulfilling Filler

 Good morning, gheorghies. This makes me smile.

The internet is magic sometimes. pic.twitter.com/qeVdNIbo92

— Debbie Mia (@TheDebbieMia) November 14, 2021

This Week in Gheorgheball

I'm in the midst of one of the busiest periods I can remember on the professional front. It's bad enough that it's impacted my ability to dick around on the internet, but having to deploy my brainpower on work-related things has crowded out more important dipshittery. Case in point, we haven't fully baptized the new Tribe hoops season. 

So until I get a few minutes to unpack all the boxes of strategy and organizational structure and sales plans that are cluttering my mind, here's a brief tour of the new season(s) on the hardwood.

We'll start with a Tribe-adjacent item. Now that I'm a VCU Dad, I've paid even more attention to the Rams than I might've previously. Many of you will recall my affinity for former Ram and now Denver Nugget rookie Nah'Shon 'Bones' Hyland. You should buy tickets on the Bonesmobile now, 'cause they're only gonna get more expensive. 

After an immaculate career-high 18 points (and three assists, three boards, and two steals) in the Nuggets' blowout win over Portland, Bones is averaging 9.1 ppg, 2.3 apg, 2.1 rpg, and 1.0 spg through the first 10 games of his NBA career. According to local sources, he's the clear leader of Denver's second unit, bringing energy and a knack for scoring off the bench. He's got work to do on the defensive end of the court, but there's no doubt he belongs. And Nugs fans love him. 

Closer to home, the Knightwolf hasn't had a breakout moment in Minnesota, but he has scored in consecutive games for the Timberwolves. Nate Knight got two against the Clips on Friday and another pair against the Lakers on Sunday. He's averaging 32 points per 48 minutes. Baby steps.

Been kinda avoiding actually getting to the point, because the point, well, it's not particularly enjoyable. The Wrens have lost their first two games, getting throttled at Wake Forest before coming home and losing by 12 to an American team picked to finish fifth in the Patriot League. 

The Tribe is really young, with graduate transfer Brandon Carroll starting alongside three sophomores and a freshman. Frosh point guard Tyler Rice has 15 assists through two games, which I assume is some sort of record. Sophomore big Ben Wight averaged 16 points in 21 minutes/game in the two losses, getting to the line 21 times and making 17 figgies. Soph Connor Kochera is coming off a CAA Rookie of the Year campaign and is the only guy other than Wight getting double digits.

There's a long way to go, starting tonight at Norfolk State, and Dane Fischer has proven to be a solid head man. But this team looks to have a whole lot of room (and need) for improvement. Not sure I'm counting on this to be the year we go dancing.

Roger Goodell is Still a Donkey

Almost seven years ago I wrote a post about Tom Brady's affection for tender balls (and Aaron Rodgers's preference for turgid balls) and the Deflategate fiasco.  I followed that up with another post comparing the NFL to Chotchkie's.  As an aside, I think I did a better job summarizing the situation than most other media outlets.  

You may recall that Roger Goodell suspended Tom Brady for four games by analogizing deflating balls to taking steroids.  The trial court judge scoffed at that comparison, writing that Goodell's punishment:

offers no scientific, empirical, or historical evidence of any comparability between Brady's alleged offense and steroid use.  Often, steroid use has to do with critical issues of health, injury, addiction, and peer pressure, among other factors.  See Steroid Policy at 1-2 (listing several factors related to the use of "Prohibited Substances," including "a number of physiological, psychological, orthopedic, reproductive, and other serious health problems, [such as] heart disease, liver cancer, musculoskeletal growth defects, strokes, and infertility"). None of these factors is (remotely) present here.

You know what is associated with serious health problems?  Covid-19.  So if a player violates the NFL's covid-19 policy, I would expect them to be suspended for at least one game because it's analogous to the league's steroid policy.

Predictably, Roger Goodell doesn't see it that way.  He fined Rodgers $14,650 for attending a Halloween party without being vaccinated.  The fact that Rodgers lied about his vaccination status didn't factor into the fine amount.  Rodgers makes $22,364,706 this year so the fine represents 0.0655% of his salary.

This makes perfect sense.  You let a little air out of a football, or "it is more probable than not" that you were "at least generally aware" that two baciagaloops let the air out of a football, and the league takes 25% of your pay.  If you help perpetuate a global plague that has killed over 750,000 Americans by refusing to take a free, safe, and effective vaccine or to wear a mask and avoid crowds, the league takes about seven hundredths of a percent of your salary.  

Player safety!  America's game!  Nice job Goodell.

via Gfycat

Spiders & Drugs Filler

This morning I was reading an article on Ars about research into spiders and the patterns they use to create their webs. And it jogged my memory of this youtube gem about spiders and drugs.

Cocaine is a hellva of drug.

Remembrance

Happy Belated 18th, Gheorghies!

Gheorghe: The Blog is 18 years old! 

Yes, we missed it yesterday, what with it being the Lord's day, and a day of rest, and Mark and Greg and I were nursing our hangovers from the mini-summit, and the rest of you are just lazy and forgetful.

But now, like the religious tradition of turning to your neighbor and offering, "Peace be with you," let us all gheorghies turn to each other and offer a moment devoid of taking ourselves too seriously, and glad tidings amongst our little band of misfits and meanderers.

May Gheorghe be with you.

Also born on November 7: Marie Curie, Leon Trotsky, Albert Camus, and Judy Tenuta.

18 years is a long time. Gheorghe: The Blog is old enough to vote, buy a gun, or even join the armed forces. Old enough even to drink a beer . . . if you happen to be in Sydney, Fiji, Montreal, Johannesburg, or 83% of the countries in the world. Just not in the United States for another three years. And never in Murfreesboro, Arkansas or in a number of dry counties across this great country of ours.

Anywho . . . happy belated birthday, gheorghies. Drink up.

What Football Club Should a Gheorghie Support: And Now for Something Completely Different

Like several Gheorghies, Teejay already has a rooting interest in English football. TR backs Manchester United. Marls reps the Magpies of Newcastle. Dooger and Rootsy are Spurs men. I support Fulham. And the Teej is a long-time (Michael) Bolton Wanderers fan.

The Wanderers are languishing in the bottom half of the League One table at the moment, 16th of 24 teams in the English pyramid's third division. But they've been a Premier League side on three different occasions, and the rules clearly state that Teej is required to stand by his men. Not that he would ever contemplate bailing on his team.

So we've got to go a different direction with the most beloved of the Gheorghies.

The Teej is a hipster, in the best sense of that term. He wears a variety of unique socks - sometimes with pants on. He and his lady have four cats. Against the odds, he's become a foodie. His t-shirt game is immaculate. He fits in equally well at fancy dinner parties, sporting events, and state fairs.

Teejay should support Forward Madison. 

Since their founding in 2018, the Flamingos have become one of the most iconic brands in the lower divisions of American professional soccer. As a marketing and comms expert, the Teej respects Madison's work. As an aficionado of colorful haberdashery, he'll love their kits.

When the club was founded, its ownership group set out to build a unique image. After receiving an initial design from kitmaker Hummel, they turned to a young graphic designer named Cassidy Sepnieski, who worked in the club's marketing department. The rest, as they say, is history. Madison's 2019 alternate kit was named the best in the world in a SiriusXMFC listener poll.

The 2020 alternate kit is even better for my money. Known as the Drip Kit, it came to life after Sepnieski saw a painting technique called hydrodipping. The kit is a riot of color and liquid motion, and I want Teej to have one.

For this season, Forward Madison innovated again, coming out with a fully reversible kit, pink on one side and black on the other. 

Alas, the club's kit game is stronger than its on-field version. The Flamingos finished ninth of 12 teams in USL League One (the third division of U.S. soccer) and just dismissed their head coach, Carl Craig. Could be worse for Teej - he could support Loudoun United, one of the worst professional outfits in American sports, with a 4-3-25 record and an embarrassing -47 goal differential. 

At least with Forward Madison he'll look good while supporting his side.

Up the Flamingos! Up the Teej!

EMERGENCY FILLER PALATE CLEANSER

Ben Rhodes is a 24 year-old Louisville native who drives the #99 Bombardier truck in the NASCAR Camping World Truck Series. He clinched his first series title yesterday at Phoenix Raceway. 

Ben Rhodes then gave this press conference.

For your viewing pleasure…

All the great moments from the @benrhodes press conference 😎🍺 pic.twitter.com/6hqDyMMdeA

— Alan Cavanna (@AlanCavanna) November 6, 2021

Ben Rhodes is an instant legend.

Ben Rhodes better not turn out to be an asshole. 

What Football Club Should a Gheorghie Support: Ahoy, Polloi

Despite his Appalachian upbringing, Danimal is the most cosmopolitan of the Gheorghies. He's a world traveler, banking air miles by the bucketload as he jets to China, South Africa, and...Texas. He rubs shoulders with Presidents, Kings (RIP, GWHB and Arnie), and Doggy Dogs. He's comfortable among the common and the fancy in equal measure. And he looks pretty sharp in pastels.

Danimal needs a football team that combines elegance with local roots, on-field class supported by generations of blue-collar backers. 

Not for nothing, we're feeling kinda bad about what we did to Zman, consigning him to rooting for a Norwich side that's winless in nine matches, so we're gonna balance the scales by giving at least one  Gheorghie a side that's likely to wind up on the other side of the table.

Danimal should root for Manchester City. For starters, their primary color is a perfect match for the zip-up he wore when he met Snoop, so he's already got his wardrobe foundation. The Citizens have a long and varied history. The club was founded in 1880 as St. Mark's West, becoming Manchester City FC in 1894. They were a modestly successful side for much of the 20th century, winning the league and all the major tournaments in the 1960s and 70s. City were a charter member of the Premier League, but fell on very hard times in the late 90s and early 2000s, falling all the way to the third division of English football while local rivals Manchester United ascended to become one of the world's most celebrated clubs.

City's fortunes (pun kinda intended after the fact) changed dramatically in 2008 when the Abu Dhabi United Group purchased the club. Along with Roman Abramovich's purchase of Chelsea, the deal marked the beginning of the era of ultra-wealthy often state-backed entities entering the world of football. The Emirati group infused a great deal of cash into the club, which paid dividends in 2012 when Sergio Aguero's last-match last-gasp stoppage time winner over Queens Park Rangers capped one of the most remarkable days in Premier League history and gave City their first title in the Premier League era. 

City megafan Noel Gallagher loved it:

Despite the team's current wealth, City's support remains strong among Manchester's working-class backbone, making the club a unique mix of nouveau riche and common folk. And as we've noted above, Danimal walks that divide with ease.

City's also awesome to watch. Along with Liverpool, they play the Premier League's most exciting brand of football. On their day, they can be breathtaking, pinging the ball all over the field, moving with fluidity and grace and scoring some of the best goals you'd ever want to see. In Belgian midfielder Kevin DeBruyne, City feature one of the world's best players, but their multi-cultural roster features Brazilians, Englishmen, Germans, Spaniards, Frenchmen, and American, a Dutchmen, an Algerian, and a couple of Portuguese for good measure. Led by Pep Guardiola, City are one of the world's best sides.

They've won three of the previous four Premier League titles, but the big prize of European football has eluded their grasp. City have never win the UEFA Champions League. So Danimal's got something to look forward to as he dons City's Sky Blue.

Danimal deserves the finer things in life. He should be a Cityzen.

Up the Sky Blues! Up the Danimal!

The Much Bigger Picture

Let's hope the trend of posting about folks passing ends quickly, but in this case, the lessons that go far beyond an individual's life are worth celebrating. 

I'm prepared to be annoyed by the results of the Virginia gubernatorial election. And the general drift of society at the moment is disappointing, at best. Maybe dismaying is a better way to say it. But Michael Johnson's dad tells us there's a better way.

"When you step away from your agenda, notice that there are moments you can make someone's life better...", that's Ernie Johnson's message, one that he and a whole of folks in his son Michael's orbit learned from a Romanian orphan with muscular dystrophy.

Michael died yesterday at 33. May we all have as much impact as he did.

And amidst the stuff that will continue to piss me off and challenge my understanding of my fellow man, I hope that I abide Ernie Johnson's message that there's value in everybody.

Love you, too, Gheorghies.

Requiem for a Big-Hearted Lightweight

My earliest real memories of baseball fandom involve the 1978 Boston Red Sox. Things didn't end very well for that terrific team, but one of the guys on that team imprinted on me, and stayed with me for five decades. 

Jerry Remy was the second baseman on those '78 Sox. The diminutive Remy wasn't much of an offensive threat - he hit seven homers in 10 major league seasons, and he finished his career with a .656 OPS. He could steal a base (3rd in the AL with the Angels in 1977), and he was among the best second basemen all time in fielding range. On the field, he was just a guy.

But to a little fella who happened to play second base, the guy who occupied that position for his favorite team was way more than just a guy. Remy begat Marty Barrett begat Jody Reed begat Jose Offerman ultimately begat Dustin Pedroia. Those are my guys.

Remy's second act was likely more impactful than his first. After retiring from the Sox in 1984, he took over as the color commentator on the Sox' flagship network in 1988. With his combination of playing experience, New England upbringing and accent, and ready laughter, Remy was beloved across Red Sox Nation.

He was first diagnosed with cancer in 2009, and dealt with fully seven different recurrences of that motherfucker. He threw out the first pitch of the AL Wild Card game on October 5, just 25 days before cancer claimed his life.

Back in the early part of the century, I had the MLB Extra Innings package, and I probably listened to Remy and Don Orsillo call 50-60 Sox games a year. Their chemistry was spectacular, and reached the sublimely ridiculous on many an occasion, as the Boston Herald catalogued in 2015.

For my money, two moments stand out. In the first, Sox roving reporter Dan Roche tells what we'd call today a Dad joke. And it sends Remy into apoplectic spasms of laughter to the point that he can't finish the inning. It's just the best. 

In this next clip, Lenny Clarke and Denis Leary joined Remy and Orsillo in the booth for an extended stretch. At about the 10 minute mark, Leary realized that Kevin Youkilis was Jewish, and an already funny segment was elevated. And Jerry Remy could not keep his shit together.

RIP, Jerry Remy, and thanks for the years of joy.