In Defense of Shame

We live in the time of an epidemic of shamelessness. Good people of all stripes who have the capacity for feeling shame watch helplessly horrified as cretins with no sense of humiliation wantonly stomp on the poor, the downtrodden, the differently abled, the people of color, the gender noncomforming, the queer. Really, if you don't fit into a very small box: white, "conservative", "Christian", you're an enemy of the Shameless.

I come here today to praise shame, and to plead for its return to our public discourse.

I've been meaning to write this post for a while, and Lord knows there's been plenty of fodder for it since our most recent long national nightmare descended that gilded escalator. I could've chose any one of dozens of insults the President* has spewed over his time in the political spotlight. Might've talked about Boebert, or Taylor Greene, or the abasement of Rubio, or lying about the size of the inauguration way back in 2017. In hindsight, we should've been louder.

Most of those violations of ethical norms seem quaint now. 

The new proximate cause of my shame about our lack of shame is this week's humiliating display by Pete Hegseth and his boss, with a side of Stephen Miller's dweeby fake toughguy turn.

If you've been living like Luke Skywalker, or been smart enough to spend your time watching sports, listening to music, reading books, and generally avoiding the news, here's the story on the former. Hegseth, who desperately wants you to call him the Secretary of War because he's dumber than a bag of hammers and less nuanced, summoned hundreds of generals and admirals from their posts around the world to an in-person meeting at the Marine Corps base in Quantico, VA.

Given the extremely unusual nature of the meeting and the significant security risk inherent in publicly bringing nearly all of the country's senior flag officers and their key staff together in a single location, initial speculation suggested that the meeting was to be extremely important. Friends, it was not.

Once the plan for the meeting made the news and got some attention, Hegseth's boss wanted some of that sweet, sweet camera time, and glommed onto the occasion. The officers sat together, their ranks thinned of black, brown, and female colleagues by Hegseth, in an auditorium at the Marine Corps Museum, a monument to valor, courage, and honor, and listened to his type of abject nonsense:

The stone silence of the room of military professionals that greeted this intended applause line was among the cringiest moments of a festival of awkward.

Often in his rambling, chest-out, rah-rah harangue, Hegseth praised lethality above "woke", saying things like, "You kill people and break things for a living. You are not politically correct, and don’t necessarily belong always in polite society.”

That first sentence will be news to the 85% of the leaders in the meeting who are responsible for the boring (to Hegseth) but absolutely vital elements of effective military organization like logistics, healthcare, financial management, procurement, education, communications, information technology, and on and on and on. The second sentence built on Hegseth's guidance to ignore rules of engagement and kill bad guys. Which elides the fact that rules of engagement protect our troops as much as they do enemy combatants. If we have no honor, no guardrails on the battlefield, we have no moral legs to stand on should our enemies decide that if torture, violence against civilians, and wanton murder are good enough for Americans, then they're good enough for them, too.

I won't get into the Commander-in-Chief's remarks, because a) you've heard them all before, and b) I'll be goddamned if I besmirch this here web cottage with that bloated fuck's voice. But I'll let Ronny Chieng make fun of Hegseth for your amusement:

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All of this is to say that it's just gobsmacking to hear a man who's failed at nearly everything he's ever done other than be telegenic proudly lecture a room of professionals any one of which is his intellectual and moral superior and not feel the merest scintilla of shame. Not one ounce. It's incomprehensible.

Equally so the recent ranting of naked mole rat slash sentient penis Stephen Miller, who was heard (I won't make you watch it for the sake of your sanity) to say before an audience of law enforcement officials, "All that bullshit is done, over, it's finished. The gangbangers you deal with - they think they're ruthless? They have no idea how ruthless we are. They think they're tough? They have no idea how tough we are. They think they're hardcore? We are so much more hardcore than they are."

The irony of this ballsack of a coward posing as hard man, this Jiminy Glick playing Jason Momoa is obvious. The root of his pathology a bit harder to divine. But the lack of humility, of the ability to feel shame, that's on full display to all of our great detriment.

Shame on us, brought by men and women who feel none. May the tables turn sooner than later.

Baseball Playoff Backstories

Quick hitter for you baseball fans out there. I used to be one of those, that is until the Mets eviscerated me. Like clockwork.  Yet again. 

First round of baseball is always fun. Especially for longtime fans of the game when it comes to certain matchups. Check it. 

4-seed Yankees vs 5-seed Red Sox 

This one does not need a lot of explanation. It needs way less than it gets, actually. Yanks/Sox, blah blah blah. These two teams are bitter foes to much fanfare in general, but nevermore than in the postseason. 1978 went one way, 2004 went another. They actually squared off in the early rounds of the 2018 and 2021 postseasons, but when those match-ups don’t feature Bucky or Papi or have the fireworks of the old days, it gets plenty of mass media attention for those 3-5 days and then gets quickly dispensed in the minds of those outside of the Northeast. 

Little known fact: the Yankees and Red Sox both made the playoffs in the same season for the first time in 1995 – the first-ever year with wild cards. What you don’t recall, unless you’re rob, is that the Sox got skunked by the Tribe in three, mainly because they trotted out Zane Smith, Erik Hanson, and Timmy Wake. (The Rocket was presumably still having another trip to the buffett at Wendy’s SuperBar.)

What you do recall is this: (sorry, Teej):

   

But all eyes are on this series now. 

3 Dodgers vs 6 Reds 

Did You Know??? Between 1972 and 1978, the Dodgers and Reds finished 1-2 in the AL West every single year. The Big Red Machine won the division 4 years, the Big Blue Wrecking Crew 3. It also happened in 1970, 1985, 1988, and 1990 – with those years being split 2-2 each. Sparky vs Tommy, Charlie Hustle, Steve Garvey, Joe Morgan, Ron Cey, George Foster, Dusty Baker, Johnny Bench, Reggie Smith, and many more… and that was just the hitters. What a terrific rivalry with some (red) legs to it… that faded from view as soon as the league restructured itself in 1994. LA stayed West, Cincy went Central, and that was that. 

They have never played each other in the playoffs. Get some. 

3 Guardians vs 6 Tigers 

In 2024, Cleveland beat Detroit in the ALDS, 3 games to 2. Before that, these two teams had never met in the postseason. Until the advent of the wild card in ‘95, they never could have. They also never finished 1-2 in division in the 70’s like the Reds and Dodgers, so there wasn’t the same rivalry. 5-6 was more the norm. Cleveland was turrrrible for the entire 1970’s and 1980’s with two exceptions: on the 1987 Sports Illustrated cover that touted them as the best team in the AL (that was April; they went 61-101) and in Major League (1989). 

The Tigers were marginally better, taking the division in ’73 and ’87 and winning it all in 1984. (Never since; a drought longer than the Mets’! Yes!) But there was never a close pennant race between these two clubs until 2013, when Detroit eked out a 1-game title. Of course, Cleveland got dispatched in a 1-game WC and the Tigers lost to the Red Sox in the ALCS . . . who went on to win the Series . . . again . . . neat. 

This year the Tigers blew a midseason division (and league) lead that was miles and miles long, and the Guardians took the AL Central by a game. 

Detroit took Game 1 yesterday. Game 2 starts now. Go. 

4 Cubs vs 5 Padres 

Oh, man. Here is all you need to know. The Cubs had last won in 1908 when they squared off against the upstart Padres in the National League Championship Series 1984. The Cubbies were the best team in the NL that year, winning 96 games and making believers of the Northsiders. They won Game 1 of the best of-five against San Diego, 13-0. Took Game 2 as well. Off to the west coast, where the Pad Squad took Games 3 and 4 – the latter on a 9th inning homer. 

In the deciding Game 5, the Cubs were up 3-2 in the bottom of the 7th with ’84 Cy Young winner Rick Sutcliffe on the hill. (Sutcliffe had been shipped out by Cleveland early in the season after posting a 4-5, 5.15 numbers, only to go 16-1, 2.69. Oh, the Tribe.) 

With a man on, a grounder as routine as it gets went to the normally sure-handed Cubs 1B Leon Durham. (Durham was a 2e9 in Strat-o-matic that year. Very solid.) 

It went like this.

   

Should’ve been handled, cost them the lead. Then Sutcliffe imploded (single/double/single) and that was that. Drought extended. 

This is the first postseason match-up between these two clubs since. Giddyup.

So there is baseball life after seeing your favorite team collapse from playoff shoo-in to afterthought. 

Still sucks. 

Monday Morning Motivation

May this week bring you a moment or several that approach Shane Lowry's Sunday evening. The burly Irishman guaranteed Europe's retention of the Ryder Cup with a birdie on the 18th hole at Bethpage Black Golf Course in Farmingdale, NY to earn a draw against American Russell Henley. Catharsis on a world stage. Maybe yours won't be as dramatic, but I wish it for you regardless.

Dorks, Dipshits, and Losers: Better Know Your Government

It's easy in the midst of the maelstrom of fuckery and norm-breaking that abounds to view the administration as some sort of all-powerful menace, inexorably grinding the country down through its might and single-minded purpose. When that happens, I think it's vitally important to remind ourselves that nothing this administration seeks is inevitable, and a large reason for that is the fact that it's made up of a coterie of morons, grifters, and racist true believers, led by the most corrupt yet incompetent weeble of them all.

You've likely heard some variation of this from me - and you likely will again - but I stand by my conviction that Tim Walz was on the right track when he relentlessly called the GOP goon squad weird. And I remain angry that the centrist Democratic consultants neutered him and moved away from that messaging. It was both accurate and successful in bursting the bubble of authority that surrounded Trump and his minions.

So we come here today to do a bit more bubble-bursting, offering you a practical guide to the various shitbirds that roost in Washington. David Roth, a far better writer than I, framed these folks this way: "These are clowns, factory seconds, prissy sadistic losers, and the clock is ticking. They know as much. They also really mean it."

I think there are three primary classifications of Trumpian sycophants: dorks, dipshits, and losers. The first are socially awkward and painfully aware of it even as they try too hard to compensate for it. The dipshits are just really fucking dumb. And the losers, they're desperate for approval, and willing to do just about anything to get it.

Herewith a definitive cataloguing of various satellites orbiting our corpulent and venal wannabe dictator:

Pam Bondi is dipshit with dingus tendencies. She's smart on paper - law degree, Attorney General of a major state - but her Department of Justice is marked by basic mistakes, shitty legal arguments, and terrible writing, and she's been caught in more lies than John Lovitz's Tommy Flanagan.

JD Vance is charisma-free dork, a striver who's as likely to leave his fly unzipped as he is to break a trophy while trying to pick it up.

Vice President JD Vance drops Ohio State's national championship trophy at White House event
byu/ILikeTuwtles1991 inCFB

Stephen Miller is a malicious loser. I'm going to relish his eventual perp walk the most. Hateful, petulant, and cruel is no way to go through life. Judging by videos from his high school days and stories from his time as a Congressional aide, he's always been this way. Now he's got the ear of the world's most powerful person.

Kash Patel is a textbook dipshit. Just look at this clown.

Howard Lutnick and Steve Witkoff are dorkshits, a mishmash of Messrs. Bean and Magoo. Blithely stumbling their way around the world spreading misunderstanding, misreading situations, drawing inaccurate conclusions and generally making America the world's worst dinner guest.

Pete Hegseth is a dipshit with good hair. A bumbling drunken chucklefuck who's failed his way from one gig to another because he's conventionally handsome and the President* thought he looked good on television. 

RFK Jr. is also a dipshit, and much like Hegseth, though his primary advantage is having won the Lucky Sperm lottery, even as he's tried and tried and tried to piss away America's long-standing affection for his family. While I think Miller's aims are more dangerous, Kennedy is the member of this troupe of turds most likely to get us killed.

Tulsi Gabbard is a crazy person who's convinced that she knows more than everyone else. I guess that makes her a dipshit.

Marco Rubio is a self-loathing loser. He's the Reek of the administration, castrated, flayed, humiliated and continuing to come back for more.

Laura Loomer is a raging dipshit, a racist moron who's somehow wormed her way into the inner circle through sheer force of anti-Muslim, anti-black wrongness.

Jesus, Lord in Heaven take a look at that list of scoundrels and know that it isn't even complete. We didn't even get to Congress, where we could talk about Lindsay Graham (loser), Mike Johnson (obsequious dork), Nancy Mace (dipshit), et al.

I think we need a bit of a cleanse. Here's just the thing. Compare and contrast that retinue of rottenness with Curtis Evans.

This dude is a 65 year-old Marine Corps veteran and progressive activist. The photo above was taken at a protest near an ICE facility outside Chicago. The smoke visible in the image is tear gas. According to the linked article, Evans' said his Marine training kicked in as the smoke built up around him and he managed to tamp down his body's natural flight reaction. From the piece, "The Marine veteran plans to go back to the Broadview facility to join more future protests. He said that even with the clash, he doesn’t fear other American citizens. And if they fire more tear gas and pepper balls? “Pain only hurts,” Evans said."

Badass, this guy. Be like him, not like the prissy sadistic losers above.

Family Truckster!

Some lunatic genius in Alberta, Canada took a 1989 Ford LTD Crown Victoria Wagon and turned it into a Family Truckster.

Predictably, it's up for auction at BringaTrailer and it closes today.  I have no idea what the right number is for this monstrosity beauty but I will not be surprised if FoGTB DB wins it.

via GIPHY

A few other choice auctions that are within reach and end today include a 1990 300ZX Twin Turbo for Mark, a 1974 Fiat Jolly for our man at the beach, a very cheap and very shady 2014 Jaguar F-Type right here in NJ for rob, a 2004 VW R32 for rob's kid, a Laguna Blue (!!) 2001 BMW M Roadster in Acton, MA that Squeaky needs to buy right now (even the dreaded spot welds in the trunk look good), an Assuan Brown 1982 Volkswagen Westfalia with striped (not Boogie Woogie, sigh) fabric seats for rootsy, a Yellow Mist 1965 Mercury Comet Caliente Convertible for Whit, a remarkably crisp 1973 TR6 for Mr. KQ, and a 1972 350SL for Marls.

More Beast Food, alternatively titled "Trump has more housecleaning to do"

The Eastern District of Virginia is a district within the federal court system with courthouses in Alexandria, Newport News, Norfolk, and Richmond.  DJ Trump nominated Erik Siebert to be the US attorney for the Eastern District in May of 2025.  Shortly thereafter, Siebert launched an investigation into New York Attorney General Letitia James--you may remember her from the fraud case against Trump that resulted in a $450 million verdict--but he was unable to find any wrongdoing.  Naturally, Trump pressured Siebert to press charges against her anyway.  Trump opined that "It looks to me like she is very guilty of something, but I really don't know."  That's the leader of the free world, by the way.

Shortly thereafter, Trump decided to fire him but Siebert withdrew his nomination before he could be fired.  When explaining why he wanted to fire Siebert, Trump said "When I saw that he got approved by those two men, I said, pull it, because he can't be any good.  When I learned that they voted for him, I said, I don't really want him."  So it had nothing to do with Letitia James.

"Those two men" are Senators Tim Kaine and Mark Warner.  I know this because Trump later bleated on Truth Social "Today I withdrew the Nomination of Erik Siebert as U.S. Attorney for the Eastern District of Virginia, when I was informed that he received the UNUSUALLY STRONG support of the two absolutely terrible, sleazebag Democrat Senators, from the Great State of Virginia. Next time let him go in as a Democrat, not a Republican."

This makes sense to me.  But this also means Trump has a lot of housecleaning to do because Kaine and Warner voted for a bunch of other people Trump nominated.  Like Marco Rubio, Doug Burgum, Scott Bessent, John Ratcliffe, and Sean Duffy (really?).  He better get to work replacing those untrustworthy RINOS!  Unless, of course, he really wanted to fire Siebert because Siebert wouldn't press charges against James.  But Trump couldn't really be that corrupt and petty, could he?

via GIPHY

Feeding The Beast

American society continues a headlong march toward a performative nadir where nothing occurs that’s so terrible that it can’t be made worse. Tragic as the killing of conservative activist Charlie Kirk was, it prompted an even more dispiriting response: excessive praise and punishment among the commentariat; elevation of a documented shit-stirring influencer to martyr status; further crankiness and middle fingers between right and left. 

Facts and truth took hits in the immediate aftermath of Kirk’s assassination, as you knew they would, because reporting takes time, and ideology abhors a vacuum. Kirk supporters wanted to push a narrative of who and what the shooter must represent before he was apprehended or even identified. Once it became clear that the alleged killer didn’t quite fit the desired profile, it required more work and massaging, which continues apace. 

In the days since Kirk’s death, he’s been hailed by conservatives as a patriot, a visionary, a champion of free speech, a good Christian, a role model. President Trump called him “a great guy from top to bottom” and referred to him as “even Legendary.” Sen. Ted Cruz tweeted an illustration of Kirk being hugged by Jesus. FBI director Kash Patel ended a press briefing on the investigation with, “Rest now, brother. We have the watch and I’ll see you in Valhalla,” a peculiar bit of macho, military-tinged posturing, given that neither of them served in the armed forces. Vice President J.D. Vance provided Air Force Two to transport Kirk’s family after his death and hosted Kirk’s podcast. 

Meanwhile, critics have been equally quick to condemn Kirk for his views on numerous topics such as civil rights, immigration, gun violence and affirmative action. Dozens of people have been suspended or fired from jobs for insensitive remarks and social media posts that offered no sympathy for his passing and even celebrated his death, though in some cases people were reprimanded or terminated for merely highlighting Kirk’s statements and the period in which we live. [We commend to your attention this typically spot-on piece from Ta-Nehisi Coates on Kirk.]

For instance, veteran MSNBC political commentator Matthew Dowd, a man who has worked with both Republicans and Democrats, was asked about the current political climate. He responded that Kirk “has been one of the most divisive, especially divisive younger figures in this, who is constantly sort of pushing this sort of hate speech or sort of aimed at certain groups. … Hateful thoughts lead to hateful words” which then “lead to hateful actions. … I think that’s the environment we are in. You can’t stop with these sort of awful thoughts you have and then saying these awful words and not expect awful actions to take place.” MSNBC dropped him like a hot rock, even after he attempted to clarify his remarks and apologized for the tone. 

Delta, United Airlines and American Airlines sanctioned pilots who they said posted inappropriate comments about Kirk’s death. Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy said they should be fired. A Secret Service agent was placed on administrative leave and his security clearance revoked after he posted: “If you are Mourning this guy … delete me. He spewed hate and racism on his show.” Defense Secretary (or War Secretary, if you prefer) Pete Hegseth instructed staff to identify service members and those associated with the Pentagon who have mocked or condoned the killing online. A Wisconsin teacher posted that she disagreed with Kirk’s stance that gun deaths are worth it for the Second Amendment. The local Congressman threatened to revoke all Federal funding for the town unless the situation was “rectified” immediately. Teachers in Virginia and Texas risk having their certifications pulled for “inappropriate” remarks about Kirk’s death, though it’s unclear what qualifies. ABC's parent company shelved Jimmy Kimmel's late-night talk show indefinitely after right-wing critics took issue with his remarks and the FCC threatened action. 

This smarmy knob

Kimmel didn't criticize Kirk himself, but said in a monologue, “We hit some new lows over the weekend with the MAGA gang desperately trying to characterize this kid who murdered Charlie Kirk as anything other than one of them, and doing everything they can to score political points from it.” FCC chair Brendan Carr, a Trump appointee, said on a podcast, "... We can do this the easy way or the hard way. These companies can find ways to change conduct and take action, frankly, on Kimmel, or there’s going to be additional work for the FCC ahead.” 

Look, teachers and those with public platforms should be judicious, if not steer clear, when discussing hot-button topics. Private employers absolutely have the right to sanction or fire employees if their actions or social media presence are an affront to either the boss or the business. But this present Kirkification feels more like a loyalty test or a check on who gets to say what, disguised as a call for civility and respectful discourse. 

The Disruptor-in-Chief continues to bang the drum that the “radical left” is responsible for the violence and what he called “the terrorism that we’re seeing in our country today.” He conveniently omits the shooting and killing of Minnesota Democratic legislators in June or the home attack against former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband, plus the fact that neither Thomas Crooks, the 20-year-old who attempted to assassinate him in July, or Tyler Robinson, Kirk’s alleged killer, fall short of any standard of supposedly radicalized leftists. Trump and Vance have vowed to go after liberal and left-leaning institutions that they say promote and fund violence, with Kirk’s death as cover. 

As to the calls for civility and respectful discourse, I’m old enough to remember a certain African-American occupant of the White House and his family were frequently subject to vile and racist rhetoric, often dressed up as simple political opposition. Adversaries cloaked themselves in Gadsden flags and seized on Jefferson’s quote: “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.” (never mind that the quote is often taken out of context and employed to the user’s convenience) In other words, violence toward *my* stated goal is justified, but violence toward *your* goal is unacceptable. Substitute “words and actions” for “violence” in the previous sentence, and that pretty much describes our politics, if not our society. Magical time to be alive, ain’t it?

Gheorghasbord: Spanning the Globe

In which I chronicle various oddities in an increasingly futile effort to block out the immensely insane fuckery loosed upon the land.

Did you know that Phil Hartman was an accomplished album cover designer? Neither did I. Freelance arts writer Conor Herbert recently wrote a detailed piece examining Hartman's pre-fame, indeed pre-comedy work as a graphic designer. Hartman designed more than 40 covers, including this one from Poco.

In news of an entirely different sort, connected to Hartman only via Canada, here's a headline you might enjoy:

Man arrested for driving toy Barbie Jeep on northern B.C. street

It was 9:00 am in Prince George, British Columbia on Friday, September 8, and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police were in no mood for shenanigans. When they got word of a grown-ass man driving down the road in a pink Barbie Jeep, they swung into action.

“While it might seem to some to be an inefficient use of police time to pull over a driver in a toy car, the risk the driver was creating to other motorists on the road who were forced to go around him, coupled with the risk to himself as other drivers are not in the habit of looking for toy cars on the busy road, was enough to warrant police attention.”

Dudley Do-Right, on the case.

And finally, a brief and entirely inadequate appreciation of the end of an era. Last week, Ray Hudson announced his retirement from broadcasting, ending more than 50 years in soccer as a player, coach, and one of the all-time greats in the booth. We celebrated him at least once, which isn't nearly enough for one of the singular voices in the sport.

If you've got a few minutes, give this compilation of Hudson's calls a listen. It'll perk you right up. Magisterial!

Serving the Public...Drinks

One week ago today, our ongoing investigation into odd food shit led us to ISCO Spirits' Pizza Vodka. I suggested that the next of us to visit Providence, RI should pick up a bottle or three for sampling purposes.

A few hours after that post dropped, our man Marls texted me a picture of a receipt - that lunatic went out and ordered a bottle. And so our investigation began. 

I had a nice block of Parmesan cheese in my fridge, and went to the market and purchased a jar of pepperoncini. Marls commenced to making tomato water - tastes like summer. My wife bought new glassware - any excuse to buy stuff. All we needed was an occasion. Turns out we'd already made plans to have dinner because FOG:TB Cricket was in town, and the stars aligned Friday evening.

We tried two of the recipes from ISCO's website: the Caprese Martini, and the Italian Stallion shot. Here's Marls pouring the former:

The Caprese Martini includes the aforementioned tomato water and a couple of dashes of balsamic vinegar. Which gave us an excellent excuse to break out the vinegar my wife and I bought at Poggio ai Laghi, a winery in Monteriggiano, Italy we visited in December. It's spectacular. 

I digress.

Marls garnished the martinis with some seasoned mozzarella balls and served us. The verdict: a darn tasty savory sip, with notes of oregano and a bit of a briny flavor. Even a non-vodka fan like me enjoyed it.

We finished our pre-dinner tasting with a shot. The Italian Stallion is simple. It's a shot of pizza vodka. The accoutrements make the drink. Start by loading your hand with grated Parm, in the manner of salt for a tequila shot. Make sure you've got a pepperoncini close at hand. Eat the cheese, down the shot, eat the pepperoncini. It's a pretty cool combination - the spicy little pepper makes it.

So in the final analysis, this particular Food is Dumb episode ends with a nod to the purveyor. Well done, ISCO - we'll see you again.

Carolina Blew?

We are likely months, if not years, from conclusions about the University of North Carolina’s L’Affaire Belichick. Certainly, there’s plenty to discuss already, but early results have done little except confirm the football program’s nondescript status within the sport’s hierarchy, albeit now with a much larger spotlight. 

Such is the case when a school with a modest football history goes off script and pays exorbitant sums to hire one of the sport’s most accomplished coaches, a guy with six Super Bowl rings who is also 73 years old and had never coached a minute in college. Oh, and with an attractive, opportunistic, sensitive-to-scrutiny girlfriend almost 50 years his junior in tow. 

But hype is hype, and in a quest for football relevance, several UNC Big Checkbooks circumvented the regular hiring process and went back-channel to recruit Coach Hoodie, with the promise of big money and full control of the program. Their throw-weight prevailed, and the administration signed off. Wholesale staff and roster makeover ensued and enthusiasm within the fan base spiked, accompanied by national curiosity about how it all would play out. 

The Tar Heels’ opener, a 48-14 nationally televised home dump trucking by TCU, exposed them as miles away from their stated goal of championships and illustrated that it doesn’t matter who’s wearing the Big Headset if players are lacking or don’t perform. Last weekend’s 20-3 win against Charlotte, a meh American Athletic Conference program, provided little evidence of progress. Upcoming games against FCS Richmond and Central Florida, a middlin’ Big 12 opponent (hard to keep up with who’s where these days, ain’t it?) in its own reset won’t reveal much. 

UNC’s next “test” comes Oct. 4 versus Clemson in its ACC opener. Meanwhile, former NFL scout and now snoop and take-haver John Middlekauf first reported last week that Belichick banned New England Patriots scouts. Belichick confirmed the report and responded that since he’s banned from the Pats’ facility, they’re banned from UNC’s facility. 

It’s a remarkably pissy move aimed at owner Bob Kraft, particularly considering that the Patriots are coached by one of his former players, Mike Vrabel. Subsequent reporting by ESPN and others reveal that other NFL team scouts are only permitted to watch limited practice time and that NFL personnel may talk only to the Tar Heels’ pro liaison and will have “zero access” to Belichick and his assistants. It’s an interesting tack for a program and staff trying to attract talent by touting their NFL bonafides and ability to prepare players for the pros. 

Belichick’s college and UNC pivot have also revived discussion in some corners about where he resides in the coaching pantheon. It seems ridiculous to question the chops of a guy with a fistful of rings and the second-most wins in NFL history. But he was sub-.500 in Cleveland in his first head coaching stint and sub-.500 in New England after Tom Brady departed. 

The Belichick-Brady pairing and its role in the Patriots dynasty was a chicken-and-egg question for a long time. The Patriots’ and Belichick’s 29-38 record in the four years after Brady decamped for Tampa and won a Super Bowl may have tilted the discussion in the quarterback’s favor, especially as it pertains to their latter years in Foxboro. 

Speaking of poor general managers, Chapel
Hill ties, and money

I think it’s beyond dispute that Belichick is a great coach who was a poor general manager and offensive unit assembler, which led to substandard records and Kraft cutting the cord in 2023. His desire for full control likely figured into the rest of the league taking a pass when a guy who’s getting a bust in Canton became available. In Belichick’s year away, he got a whiff of the college coaching and campus experience through his son, Steve, and his compadres and enjoyed it greatly. And then several guys with Chapel Hill ties and money and grand ideas of UNC football’s potential reach dovetailed with an unemployed Big Whistle convinced he still has tread on the tires, and here we are. 

He could have kept a foot in the game on a smaller stage, and probably earned handsome side money, as a consultant and clinician. But the opportunity to run a show and receive eight figures annually to do so scratched an itch. At this point, it's probably fair to ask: So, where are you going with this, Sparky? It’s a valid question and I’m not sure I have a good answer. 

I guess the larger point is that for all the analysis and opinions and snark that every game and move and press conference remark prompt, for all the skepticism about novice Chapel Bill in a wildly unsettled college landscape, we’re nowhere near a reasonable judgment and may not be for several years. The Belichick Experiment could succeed; it could flame out spectacularly or fizzle meekly (my money is on the latter). The man’s body of work invites a level of attention that far exceeds the pace of the work itself and the task at hand, which is unsatisfying in an impatient society that frequently demands immediate returns. The risk and financial outlay certainly merit accountability and some measures of improvement along the way – for both Belichick and those who instigated his arrival – but it’s not necessarily wise to permit the audience to dictate terms.

I am fit as a goddam fiddle, alternatively titled "The Streak Redux"

Almost four years ago I touted my Peloton purchase in a Gheorghemas post.  I have continued to use it regularly and although I haven't been able to drop my weight significantly below 169 pounds (and really, why would I want to) I am fit as a goddam fiddle.  I routinely crank out rides of 11-13 kJ per minute (Danimal scoffs at that) and work up a mighty sweat but cool down in about five minutes.  When I'm not doing rides I'm lifting weights or doing yoga.  Not heavy weights or good yoga, but I'm trying (I hate lifting weights).  If I'm away from home I'll do a run on the hotel treadmill or even outside (!) on the street.  I have convinced myself that this shit is fun, worthwhile, and too expensive to collect dust in the basement.

So thorough is this self-inflicted Jedi mind trick that yesterday I completed my 365th day in a row of doing at least one Peloton activity.  A streak, if you will.  rob's wife streaked with me.  She also participated in the ride I took to make the streak one year long. 

Some of you will remember my last streak which ran sometime during the spring semester of 1996 when I went after Buck's house record for most consecutive nights out.  This was a streak of an entirely different tone and tenor than my current health kick.  Eventually I broke the record, and when I saw Buck I told him so.  He replied "I don't remember setting a record like that" which means his streak destroyed his memory or he was full of shit when he told an impressionable freshman about his drinking exploits.

Unlike my streak of 1996, I feel no pressure with this one.  In fact I feel good!  I'm not keeping it alive just to say I did, I'm enjoying myself.  I'm sure this streak will come to an end but it won't be a relief when it does.

Food Back On Its Bullshit?

I don't know why this topic has taken up so much of my blog-related mental space of late, but the universe really seems to be tilting gustatorily at the moment. This one's a doozy.

Rhode Island-based ISCO Spirits has an inventive portfolio and a sustainable mission. As the distiller says on its website, "Our spirits are fiercely unique, land-and-ocean-inspired and handcrafted." Their Seaflow Ocean Gin is made with local seaweed and oysters in addition to the juniper you might expect. They offer an everything bagel aquavit, for chrissakes.

Those tempting tipples have nothing on their newest limited release. Friends, I give you ISCO Pizza Vodka. It's made with 100% organic wheat, tomatoes, pizza spices, and fresh, gooey mozzarella cheese. Bloomberg spirits columnist Kara Newman tasted it, and came away impressed, saying "It didn’t disappoint: The clear liquid has a big, tomato-y scent and oregano-forward flavor and a mouthwatering, garlicky exhale. (Seriously; keep a breath mint in your back pocket.) Put all together, it really does taste uncannily like a saucy slice."

The good folks at ISCO, who I now want to hang out with, offer some cocktail ideas for what they claim is the world's first pizza vodka. Again from their website, "From Italian Stallion Shots (like a tequila shot with all Italian ingredients), to Pizza Luges, to upscale savory Caprese martinis and clarified Hawaiian Milk Punches, Pizza Vodka can be dressed. up or down just like the versatile food on which it is based. Perfect for dive bars to Michelin stars and everything in between!"

Indeed, the Italian Stallion sounds delicious: Pour 1 oz. of Pizza Vodka into a shot glass, wet your hand as you might for salt in a tequila shot, shake shredded Parmesan cheese on your hand, lick the cheese, drink the shot, chase with a pepperoncini. I'm not a vodka fan, but that might change things for me.

Whoever gets to Providence next, grab a couple bottles. At $30, they're a bargain. Salud!

Breaking Music News

In a series of posts on Bluesky last night, R.E.M. frontman Michael Stipe ended decades of speculation by revealing the lyrics to 'It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)'. Over to you, Mike:

Ok its ‘feed it off an aux, speak, grunt no strength, the ladder start to clatter with fear fight down height, wire in a fire representing seven games, a government for hire and a combat site’.

— Michael Stipe (@michaelstipe.bsky.social) September 5, 2025 at 12:13 AM

The entire thread is a hoot, including this reveal about 'Chronic Town', 'Murmur', and 'Reckoning':

Any other lyrics— don’t even try chronic town murmur or reckoning btw— just form vowels and syllables, and mean it

— Michael Stipe (@michaelstipe.bsky.social) September 3, 2025 at 9:55 AM

It's the end of the mystery as we know it. And I feel fine.

Food is...Getting Smarter?

In which we both appreciate a blessed snack combination and an authentic American personality.

Mike Golic Junior faced at least mild criticism early in his career owing to his Nepo Baby path to prominence at ESPN. His father is beloved by many as a happy go lucky fat defensive lineman turned svelte radio and television personality. Junior unquestionably benefited from his dad's notoriety as one half of the legendary Mike & Mike morning show, making some of his first public appearances on the program.

But if Junior was all nepo, he'd have faded away over time. Instead, he's become a unique and talented voice, capable of breaking down offensive line play (he played at Notre Dame before being waived by the Pittsburgh Steelers in camp) and Taylor Swift lyrics with equal authority. He can do professional color commentary on a college football game and poke fun of himself with aplomb. He's made a point of supporting female broadcasters like Jessica Smetana and Chiney Ogwumike. He says shit like this, "There are always two different ways to go about everything - you're either so talented that people can't deny it, or you're willing to come in, work, and be a great teammate. I always thought, let me make sure I leave everyone I work with as best as I can." 

And more directly relevant to this post, he's an unabashed lover of food, especially gooey, greasy, snacky stuff. 

Recently, he dropped this review:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mike Golic Jr. (@mikegolicjr)

I think he'd be fun at a G:TB summit.

Goin' Solo

Fine, I'll do it myself. Just like a pair of G:TB faves who usually front terrific bands who are dropping solo records over the coming weeks. 

Jeff Tweedy's Twilight Override will be released on September 26. It's a 30-song triple record. A goddamned opus. Here's "Enough", which is probably what Tweedy felt by the end of the recording process.

Old 97s frontman Rhett Miller follows Tweedy with A Lifetime of Riding by Night on October 10. Miller finished the record just days before he underwent vocal chord surgery that's kept him off the mic for several months. Looking forward to hearing this one live, including "Come as You Are".

Seen a Million Faces?

In a recent edition of 'We Defy Augury', our guy Professor G. Truck compares and contrasts the paths taken by two sons of Jersey in an effort to understand and explain the impact of place on literature and art. During a discussion of Jon Bon Jovi's heavily-local lyrics, the Professor references Bon Jovi's smash, "Dead or Alive".

I'm not a big Bon Jovi fan - the whole hair metal thing was never really my bag. But that tune kicks ass, and I love it unironically. There's a lyric that's always resonated with me: "I've seen a million faces. And I've rocked 'em all." Bombastic, braggadocios, and maybe not all that hyperbolic.

Which got me to thinking. I have rocked very few faces. But have I seen a million in my 55 years on the planet?

A few things to consider. I did not spend much time at all in major cities until my early 20s. I lived on small towns and military bases, and we vacationed in places like Cape Cod. Went to a few Red Sox games in that time, and played a bunch of sports, so I wasn't totally isolated. 

But let's assume for the sake of argument that my facecount was pretty low until I turned 25. How many faces per day would I have to have seen to get to a million? There are 10,950 days in 30 years. So over that span, a person would need to average 91 faces a day to get to a million.

In recent years, I probably average fewer faces than that most days. I work from home, so that's a constraining factor. If we don't count Zoom calls, I may not see a face other than my wife's today. Last weekend, which was pretty normal, I'd estimate I saw 200 faces at dinner at a busy spot on Friday, and another 100 at the bar we stopped in to get a nightcap. Then 200 faces at a brewery on Saturday, and another 75 at the restaurant we went to afterwards. Probably at least another 100 at the farmer's market that morning. That's 675 on the weekend, which makes up for the faceless weekdays in terms of the average.

And in the before times, I traveled a decent amount to large cities where it's reasonable to assume I saw a thousand faces a day just by walking around. I worked in Tysons Corner for a decade, and in addition to the faces in my building, I'd usually go out to grab food and see dozens of faces. In my earlier days, Whit and I would spend a not insignificant amount of time in bars in the greater DC area - gotta be several hundred faces per outing. That's before we get to concerts and major sporting events, where a thousand feels low (I'm not counting all the fans in the stands, just the ones I actually saw in person. (In face? Whatever.)

Throwing all that into the mental blender and carrying the one, I'm pretty confident that I've seen a million faces. Now to commence with the rocking.

How Stuff Works, Creative Economics Version

The transformation of the entertainment economy over the past few decades has been exceptional in so many different ways. Consumers have benefited significantly by suddenly having the ability to access an immensely diverse menu of content. Corporations have profited, despite often being late to the party in understanding new distribution and consumption models. But creatives in the majority of cases have been negatively impacted, or at least found themselves scrambling to figure out how to make rent in a wildly different and quickly and continually changing economic environment.

Understanding how artists, writers, journalists, and other creative professionals are navigating this new world is the central premise of Past Due with Ana Marie Cox and Open Mike Eagle. The podcast describes itself thusly: "Ana Marie Cox and Open Mike Eagle explore what it takes to survive as a creative today. From juggling side gigs to redefining success, we dive into the real stories behind making a living when one job isn't enough."

Cox is a veteran journalist, writer, and podcaster who's known for her political writing (she's the founding editor of the venerable Wonkette). Mike is a rapper, comedian, producer who skews to the alt side of the musical art form. Together, they're insightful and interesting. 

Past Due was launched in July, but it first came to my attention last week when the two hosts had a conversation with Rhett Miller in the runup to his new solo album. It's fascinating right from the jump. If you've ever wondered whether rock and roll frontmen worry about making their mortgage, this one's for you.

Something American We Can Get Behind

We've celebrated badass women of all kinds since the beginning* here. And you know about our affinity for the America's lesser-publicized sports. Tomorrow, our interests intersect in what promises to be a most entertaining way.

* The really early days weren't our finest in that regard, but we got our shit straight eventually.

At 2:30 Eastern at the Stadium of Light in Sunderland, England, the United States takes on hosts England in the first match of the Women's Rugby World Cup. Sixteen teams will battle over the next five weeks to determine the champion in the tenth edition of the tournament.

No. 8 Kate Zackary captains the Women's Eagles

The U.S. comes in with a good deal of momentum, at least in terms of popular support. American back Ilona Maher has more followers on social media than any other rugby player in the world, male or female. She's returning to the 15-player game that she played at Quinnipiac after building her professional career in sevens - entering the World Cup, she's only played seven full-sided international matches. 

Maher's a great story, and she really can play - she was the national collegiate player of the year in 2017 - but the Americans face an uphill road. England are the world's top-ranked side, and sixth-ranked Australia are also in the United States' four-team group (the U.S. is ranked tenth in the world). The Americans' match with the Wallaroos will likely tell the tale.

Only three nations have ever lifted the Women's World Cup trophy. The U.S. won the very first in 1991, and since then New Zealand have won six times, including the last two, and England a pair. The Red Roses enter the event on a roll, only losing once in 58 matches since 2022.

We're not gonna pretend we know a ton about the teams and the players, but we do know how to Google, and this preview from Opta is pretty robust. I asked my favorite rugby expert who he thought would win the event, and he said, "Scottie Sheffler". Our expert has taken a few blows to the head in his day. He followed his initial prediction by saying, "Can't see England not winning at home". Good enough for me - the Red Roses are G:TB's Official Women's World Cup pick. But keep an eye on Canada and Fancy Bermudez. The Canucks are the second-ranked team in the world, and the best bet to break England and New Zealand's hold on the trophy.

@rugbycanada A double vs the USA 😮‍💨 @Fancy Bermudez is on another level 📈 #RugbyCA | #OneSquad | #HSBCSVNS | #HSBCSVNSSGP ♬ original sound - Rugby Canada

EMERGENCY FOOD IS DUMB UPDATE!!!

Apparently a conflagration of ketchup and fruit isn't enough for some folks. It seems, in fact, that some people just wanna watch the world burn, or possibly just feed us.

A good number of those kind of people work for Pabst and Campbell's, who just issued a joint press release entitled "Campbell's® Chunky® and Pabst Blue Ribbon Invite Fans to "Crack Open a Warm One" with New Collaboration". 

As always, we cut and paste so you don't have to. Here's what they're on about:

Just in time for soup season, the two new varieties will be available exclusively at Walmart starting this month:

Campbell's Chunky x Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer Cheese with Potatoes & Chorizo Soup is packed with savory chorizo sausage and hearty potatoes simmered in creamy cheese infused with Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer flavor. Pair it with a soft pretzel, serve it in a bread bowl, or top it with extra shredded cheese.

Campbell's Chunky x Pabst Blue Ribbon Beef, Bacon & Beer Chili with Beans is the perfect addition to brisk fall days and features seasoned beef, hearty beans and smoky bacon, all infused with Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer flavor. Enjoy it straight from the can, load up a hot dog or drizzle it on top of nachos.

That's...that's so crazy that it just might work. As Ryan Pawling, Senior Brand Manager, Campbell's Chunky, says, "Our fans love bold, unexpected taste experiences, and pairing Chunky's hearty recipes with the iconic, malty flavor of PBR brings something totally unique to the soup aisle."

If you're in Manhattan on Thursday, stop by Ray's Bar for a dive bar takeover, complete with free PBR to pair with the soup, and exclusive merch. And report back on how the soups taste, obvs.

What We Heard

As y'all know, the kidlet and I made a trans-continental road trip last week. In advance, I asked the assemblage for listening recommendations, and you came forward. And the kidlet showed up prepared, as well. So to get you into the new week, here's a quartet of playlists that'll get you rolling.

This one's from Whitney. It's a great mix of stuff that's not smack in the mainstream, deeper cuts from bands I love and stuff I didn't know. Got a lot of new out of it.

 Zman came through with an entirely different vibe. Dig on African Funk Desert Blues Friday Morning.

Last, but definitely not least, the kid came prepared with her wide-ranging musical taste.