Part of the spiked Ann Telnaes cartoon |
Wednesday, January 15, 2025
Rhymes With 'Skews,' More to Choose, May Need Booze
Sunday, January 12, 2025
The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas, Day Eleven
On the eleventh day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me...
11 Months of Wisdom*
Ten Things from FlorenceFive roadsters you can and should buy right now
FORE! An overdue update on LIV & the PGA Tour
Three Ways of Coping
Stories from two three strokes
And much needed hip mo-bili-ty
* Not guaranteed to contain wisdom
And away we go, friends, for a whirlwind tour of last year's content, and what's always my favorite post to write. In 2024, we started fast, finished with a flourish, and were reasonably consistent in the middle (except for July. We're gonna have a talk with July). We wrote a lot about our usual suspects, but we added a pop-up baseball blog for several weeks in September and October, and 2024 MVP OBX Dave reliably chimed in with high-quality musings on a broad range of subjects, including sports and media, and media about sports.
To illustrate the months this year, we chose to feature Minneapolis Public Radio The Current's top 11 songs of 2024 in reverse order, so you get some formatting break and some cool tunes. You're welcome.
As the Muppets say, on with the show this is it.
January
You'll be shocked to learn that we started the year with filler and whimsy. Our first "real" post extolled the virtues of posting on G:TB. Sorta.
WCSAGD returned, now with regional curation!
Whitney came home, follicularly speaking.
OBX Dave dropped the first of many deep thinks on college sports.
Z's original car post triggered a run on automative efforts. Like this one. And this. This, too.
Posted about stuff I'd take with me if I had to. Which touched off a mini-run. Here's z's version. In light of the current conflagration in L.A., it all seems a bit melancholic.
The Twelfth Day of Gheorghemas 2023 started on January, 31, 2024. And it was an accurately-labeled extravaganza, taking up a full 12 posts. One of the best uses of postcount in recent memory.
February
The increasing ubiquity of gambling is problematic.
We became Robbie Avia stans. Because of course we did.
But we found Caitlin Clark.
History came to Colonial Williamsburg.
We lost the Lefthander, too. And Richard Lewis. Tough month for legends.
March
Cole Brauer, pint-sized badass.
We felt the first tremblings of what was to come, politically. It is a goddamn burden to be this right this often.
Far too late to the Joey Votto party, G:TB was.
Some words suck.
OBX Dave dissed March Madness.
The Curse of G:TB, vanquished.
NJ Dave cross-promoted.
Gheorghe's Six-Pack made its 2024 debut with a bit of misdirection.
Closed the month with a bit of inside baseball, journalism category.
April
(In case you were wondering, this was my favorite song of the year.)
My kid is a problem (complimentary).
Notify featured de La, Toad, and Garth.
I was interviewed for a podcast! By Augury Dave! Cross-cross-promotion.
A freewheeling journey to...COOKY PUSS!
May
College sports and money. Money and college sports.
Weird and whimsical. Trainspotting edition.
The Z nattered. A nation didn't listen.
Witnessed a real, live high-speed pursuit in Ohio.
Whit got married. Zed met a new friend.
June
The best Sports Illustrated covers, up to 1979.
OBX Dave went looking for a bar fight.
Time. Is Marching On.
In retrospect, we were a bit too naively optimistic.
July
For a month with the fewest posts (13) since April 2023, we managed some heft. Multiple robust explorations of various topics. And a Muppet post. Well played, lads.
We invented the dumbest quiz game. So far.
OBX Dave examined himself.
We played against some people way better than us.
Gheorghe explained Project 2025, and now, well...fuck.
The greatest sports photo ever taken.
August
Bill, Ted, Vladimir, Estragon.
OBX Dave endorses. Nuking the electoral college.
There is another Z-man.
Caw!
Whitney had a great idea. It didn't end great. At least for one half of Misery Loves Company.
And here was the first pop-up MLC post.
Tony Hawk and The Mystery of the Suited Skater.
In which I coin the phrase "incellectual dorks" and exhort my father to haunt the MAGA movement.
September
Our man at the beach hates chain gangs.
My brain is dumb.
Ed Sheeran seems a top lad.
Our elder statesman weighed in on NIL.
October
Mets win! Mets in!
We celebrate pop and lock. Very on brand.
We enjoy it when OBX Dave brings the shade.
A deep sigh the size of Grimace.
Fuck remains the fucking best.
November
New Big Whistle in the Burg get it going.
Gheorghe Predicted the Election. Gheorghe is an idiot.
G:TB can legally drink!
Give you one guess which Gheorghie wrote a post about dildos.
Chronicles of an Aging Gheorghie.
One of us has a wee crush on Mike Schur. And Ween.
Our guy Joel Dahmen kept his card. By the skin of his teeth.
As God is my witness, a late Thanksgiving meant the last post of the first 11 months was a classic.
And that's all we wrote, friends. A rollicking good year full of joy, whimsy, baseball, tunes, and laughter, with a soupçon of agitated ranting and melancholy. I am, as always, biased, but I do believe we packed more quality into our 200 posts this year than usual. Maybe we're getting the hang of this blogging thing. In any case, love y'all. Here's to 200 more in 2025.
Saturday, January 11, 2025
Picks of the Week, brought to you by...
Happy Saturday, gheorghies!
As we all recall, Day 11 is a bit of a behemoth, so while we eagerly anticipate its arrival, it may take a few more days while robbie reviews the Year du Gheorghe. In the meantime... football!
The college football playoff has been everything everyone most people wanted. (Fans of Oregon, Georgia and a few others... sorry 'bout your bad luck play.)
Irish vs Buckeyes.
Danimal vs Buckles.
Flynn vs Evan.
Catholics vs... Tree Nuts.
Get some. Irish haven't beaten the Bucks since FDR's first term. Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again, and the Irish have a man like that in Riley "Don't Call Me Booger Ray" Leonard.
They don't call me the best color guy in the game for nothin'.
Okay, now on to the pros!
Those of you who pay any attention may have noticed a pattern in my gambling. The pattern? I'm terrible. Awful. A travesty. Always wrong. Okay, well, almost always. In fact, FanDuel considered shuttering its doors after giving up a bet like that to me.
Other than that, I've lost many, many bets there. Luckily, I don't gamble high dollar amounts.
That said, I gots a funny feeling about my picks for the playoffs this weekend. Go All In!
Here you go, your 1st Round NFL Playoff Picks brought to you by my betting alter ego, Slapdash Drunkenwager . . . and Alcoa.
Alrighty, here comes Slapdash with his picks!
Greetings sports fans, and welcome to another edition of What the hell is he thinking, I mean my weekly football picks!
This week we're reaching way way back using the flux capacitor and 1.69 gigawatts of mental energy. A salute to the NFL stars of Slapdash's youth. Yep, placing wagers based on complete irrelevance. Couldn't be worse than my usual analysis.
Chargers (-3) @ Texans
Back when Slapdash was a kid, the Chargers had Danny Fouts and his cannon, Chuck Muncie and his specs, Wes Chandler and his wheels, and Charlie Joiner and his Hall of Fame cool. But they also had a little guy named Kellen Winslow who brought his badassed guts. Air Coryell. And for a couple of years, up until 1980, they had The O.C. named Joe Jackson Gibbs. Not shoeless, he commanded a high-flying offense.
Meanwhile... when Slapdash was a kid, the Texans were not a team. Oh, they had been a team. In Dallas. Who, after one crap season, moved to Baltimore to become the Colts. Ohhhh, Baltimorons, you stole someone's team and then got all cranky when the Mayflowergate happened in '84. Slapdash has said it before and he'll say it again, that Mayflower Van Lines still has zero presence in Baltimore and Howard County, MD is hilarious and awesome.
There was, though, a Houston team in my youth... you know them...
They had a fella named Bum runnin' the show. They had a bigger fella named the Tyler Rose runnin' through people. And keepin' on footwear, they had a fella for a few years, up until 1980, called White Shoes.
But they were Oilers. These are Texans. And though these Chargers are in Lose Angle-leez rather than San Dieeego, they're still the same old cHargers!
Chargers cover.
Steelers @ Ravens (-9.5)
Another nomenconundrum here, folks! Weren't no Ravens back when! Bal'mer was the Colts, and boy did they stink back then. Johnny U and Art Donovan were distant memories, and let's not mention the words John Elway or Indianapolis.
The Steelers were the Steel Curtain, aging though they were. Nobody dominated the NFL in the 1970's like this franchise, and they wouldn't post a losing record until the middle of the next decade. And if I think about Pittsburgh vs. Baltimore in an NFL showdown, I think of two men.
L.C. Greenwood and Bert Jones.
Gotta go with L.C. Steelers and the points. (If you'd called Slapdash earlier this week, you could've gotten 10.5 like he did.)
Broncos @ Bills (-9)
Orange Crush defense led by Tom Jackson (pre-ESPN), Rubin Carter (not that one), Randy Gradishar, Lyle Alzado, and eventually Karl Mecklenburg, who it should be noted was actually one of the henchmen who attacked Nakatomi Plaza.
And yes, Craig Morton. And eventually... John Elway. Baltimore's bastard son.
Buffalo... well, Joe Ferguson? A backfield that also included Joe Cribbs, Roosevelt Leaks, Roland Hooks... Cribbs, Leaks, and Hooks is now an upstate residential contracting firm, but collectively they ran for over 1500 yards in 1981. The team was led in sacks that year by Ben Williams and Ken Johnson. I mean, that's what they are called after having gone into witness protection, right?
This was all before they dispensed with Coach K, I mean a coach named Kay Stephenson, and a few years later decided to hire a guy who had coached at William and Mary. No, not Sean McDermott, dummies! Marv Levy. Middling days.
Like or hate Elway and his mule smile, he wins this. Take the points. Broncos.
Packers @ Eagles (-5)
Forrest Gregg versus Dick Vermeil. Lynn Dickey versus Ron Jaworski. James Lofton versus Harold Carmichael. Eddie Lee Ivery versus Wilbert Montgomery.
Slapdash Style True Story: Stevie & Paul's hit tune "Ebony and Ivory" was originally "Eddie Lee Ivery."
Eddie Lee... Ivery / runs through Lions defenses... forcefully / side by side with Gerry Ellis / Jealous? / Fellas, you should be!
Here's what I remember of the Packers of Slapdash's youth:
But the pre-Comms lost that game 48-47 on a last-second FG by Jan "Translation: Nothing Ages in Norway" Stenerud-boy. Monday night game in October. It was insane. And the last time Washington would lose that season. Oh, until they went to Tampa for Super Bowl XVIII and, uh... Squirek-ed their pants. Fun fact: Dave Flynn went with his dad to that game. His pop used to play OL for Oklahoma back when that meant you were a lunatic beast. When the game went bad, and it went very, very bad, his dad got in a fight with a loudmouth Raider fan while 13-year-old Flynn sat there and sipped his Sprite and wondered what was next.
This is what the Eagles of the old days makes me think of:
Celebrate good times, come on. If you're a Philly fan. (But they lost in the Super Bowl that year as well.)
If you compare those two plays, and believe me I have or my name's not Slapdash Drunkenwager, you gotta fly Eagles fly. I will now flush my fingers in the toilette for having typed that. Ewwwww.
Take the Birds giving points.
Commanders @ Buccaneers (-3)
Well, once again the durn name changes throw ol' Slapdash off, but this time it was for a purty good reason. Ask Mike Schur; he dedicates a goodly chunk of his book to that old name and dunk-boothing Daniel Snyder repeatedly and comically. Good shit.
So Washington and Tampa from the olden days of the Carter (RIP, sweet prince) and Reagan years has one bad mofo thing in common. Doug Williams. Remember him? He was awesome. Channeling the CF Show now? Let's go, Slapdash.
So, other than that? Well, in the early 1980's it was all Washington, baby. Riggo! Rev up the Diesel! Vroom, vroom, vroom! More nicknames than a Berman family reunion. Hogs, Smurfs, Fun Bunch, etc. Actually, back in the late 70's when the Bucs leapt up from the dreary beginnings of the McKay/Spurrier era...
"Coach, what do you think about your team's execution?" Head Coach John McKay: "I'm in favor of it."
...and made it to the NFC Championship game in '79, Washington was known as the Deadskins. 'Twixt George Allen and Joe Gibbs was Jack Pardee and Pardee Par Par on a the best days. Double bogey city on the rest. Anyway, you take the good ('79 Bucs, '83 pre-Commanders), you take the bad (other years), you take 'em both and there you have a fargin' close game! This one's gonna be tight. And whoever can channel their best Doug E. Fresh Williams will win.
If you're getting 3 in a game that may be won by a single point, Slapdash takes the points. Commanders.
Vikings @ Rams (+2.5)
Home dog! Speaks to the silly system the NFL now has. Alrighty, then. Minnesota and L.A. It's like Lakers history month.
Fran Tarkenton! Tommy Kramer!
Pat Haden! Vince Ferragamo!
Bud Grant! John Robinson!
Ahmad Rashad! Phylicia Ayers-Allen!
Eric Dickerson! Rec Specs!
Slapdash is tired from not doing enough slapdash prognosticating and thinking too hard about these games.
Vikings and rams both have horns. They even hang out together. Maybe even forge a relationship and perform the physical act of lovely on cold, wintry nights like it will be Monday. They belong together.
So why are they fighting?
Minnesota lost 4 Super Bowls in the 1970's. One to the Steelers. The Rams lost one... to the Steel Curtain in January of 1980. They couldn't win one in L.A. so they said meet me in St. Louis. They should commiserate. But... L.A. won a few years ago.
Slapdash says feel sorry for the Vikings, Bud, Fran, Ahmad, Steve Dils, the guy who traded the whole world for Herschel, and everyone freezing in Minnesota.
Take the Vikings giving a few. Do to the rams what you've always done to their kind, ye freebooting rovers of Norseland.
There you go. When you cash in big, like Slapdash Drunkenwager big, gimme a call and I'll let ya buy me a coldie.
Thursday, January 09, 2025
The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Ten
On the tenth day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me...
Ten Things from Florence
The pages of the Gheorghian calendar turn slowly this year, but they turn nonetheless. We move closer to closing our blogyear as I exercise some editorial prerogative to offer some show and tell from my recent vacation.
Our trip from Virginia to Florence was uneventful, as these things go. IAD to Charles de Gaulle in Paris, a brief layover, and a 90-minute flight to Italy. Little did we know at the time that the return would prove far more vexing. What follows is a rough chronological review of the highlights of a wonderful week.
We stayed at a hotel called La Scaletta in the Oltrarno district, a mixed residential/restaurant/retail area near the Medici family's Palazzo Pitti. The hotel itself is housed in a 15th century townhome, its warren of rooms and hallways a testament to the challenges of retrofitting centuries-old infrastructure for modern purposes. But the staff was exceptional, the rooftop bar a wonderful vantage point (as we'll later see), and the location close enough to the action to suit us but far enough away to allow for some breathing room.
That great staff recommended a spot for our first Florentine meal at Trattoria 4 Leoni, about 100m from the hotel. I had something called Fiocchetti di pera in salsa di taleggio e asparagi, which is ghost-shaped (think a stuffed round "head" with a flowing cape) pasta stuffed with pear in a cheese sauce. Outrageously good, and a strong foreshadowing for the remainder of a week spent eating and drinking well.
Our hotel was a mere 400m or so from the fabled Ponte Vecchio, the only bridge in Florence spared from destruction by retreating Nazis in WWII. Legend has it that Adolf Hitler himself made the decision not to destroy the historic span, though recent research suggests it may have been the work of a brave shop assistant who disabled bombs intending harm.
The bridge is built up on both sides with shops selling all manner of leather, gold, art, and trinkets. It's often so crowded that it's hard to know that one is crossing the Arno River. There's a covered, windowed hallway above the bridge that the Medicis used to travel above the hoi polloi from their castle in the Oltrarno to their place of business in the old town.
In the light, it's worth crossing the Ponte Vecchio once, but unless you enjoy a good throng, better to use one of the parallel bridges on either side.
At night, though, at least during this festive season, the bridge was lit in all manner of splendid projections by light coming from the Uffizi. On New Year's Eve, as we waited for friends to get to town, my wife and I sat outside on the deck of Signorvino (that's Mr. Wine, to you Yanks) and watched the show.
On our first full day in town, we had a splendid lunch of pizza and wine in the shadow of the Duomo, which we chased with a few hours at the Galleria della Academia, where we saw this fella:
Pictures really don't tell the whole story. That is one impressive work of art. Its scale is immense, and it looks great from a distance as well as up close. It's a classic for a well-deserved reason.
We also saw a bunch of Renaissance religious art, as well. In general, a lot of that sort of reliquary is a bit thematically redundant - there's only so many ways one can depict Christ's agony and resurrection - but I did find myself drawn to a couple of pieces that stood out for their color and character.
I was drawn to the crisp colors. And the fact that this Jesus seems to be the inspiration for 'Dogma'. |
This is St. Jerome. He seems fierce. And red. |
My wife's best college friend Lori and her boyfriend Richy live in Madrid. They joined us on Tuesday evening. We celebrated New Year's Eve with dinner at the hotel and drinks on the hotel's rooftop bar. It was among the more unique celebrations I've experienced, with the sounds of cathedral bells pealing mixed with the explosive percussion of fireworks from across town.
I knew we'd see a ton of amazing art at galleries. I was not prepared for the amount of public sculpture on display, nor the beauty of Florentine architecture. Across the old city, you can't swing a cat without hitting a remarkable work of art. I'm not sure why you're swinging a cat, freak.
Check these out, from just one location, the Piazza di Santa Croce:
After a couple of days in town, we took a bus into Tuscany. We hit a little fortress village called Monteriggioni, did a walking tour of Siena, visited a winery, and closed our day in a small town called San Gimignano. Far too many neat things to catalogue, but here are a few:
This and the next are from Siena's spectacular (and unfinished) cathedral |
In San Gimignano, and unexpected superlative! |
It's a *really* small village. |
We took another trip out of town to visit the little historic village of Fiesole. It's about 5km north of Florence, up a steep hill. The views are amazing.
One of the most special events of our week came on our last full day. A friend and former next-door neighbor from home is a lover of Florence. She studied there during college, and has returned multiple times with her family. We bumped into her at the local farmer's market a month or so before we went and she recommended we book a cooking class at Accidental Tourist.
Malja and Marco are a couple who run the business from their family's 900 year-old villa atop a hill in Collina, 15 minutes or so outside of Florence. They open their home to small groups that they teach to make pasta and then feed.
On the night we went, a couple from Australia and their three kids (12, 10, and 4) were staying in the villa's guest suite, and they joined us for the experience. American expat Steve Woodbury (he went to Italy 50 years ago to study music and never came back) was both our driver and our teacher, guiding us through making two different kinds of pasta and delivering this performance:
An epic meal, made better by the company, our group, the lovely Aussies (the father had a cup of coffee as an AFL professional), and the proprietors. The "bottomless" wine made by Marco's friend up the road served from a label-free bottle and as good as anything we drank all week didn't hurt.
Though it took us 66 hours to get home, my enthusiasm for Florence wasn't dampened in the least (Montreal is a different story altogether). A fella could get used to eating absurdly good pasta, drinking phenomenal wine, wandering centuries-old winding streets, sipping espresso, and probably most importantly, spending time with people he loves. Here's a selection of a few more images from a week well spent.
Monday, January 06, 2025
Excavating TR: "Trying to be a better me is hard"
Hearing Maron struggle over many years and claw his way to real career success had a therapeutic effect on me. I came to understand many of own personality quirks. I realized that I often made instantaneous snap judgments on people - almost always negative - that were just comparisons of that person relative to my personal shortcomings. It made me irrationally, quickly and deeply hate people. It was a tolerable defensive cocoon as I navigated life, but ultimately not a pathway to happiness. The fact that I started listening in '09, at a period of peak chaos in my life (second kid born, laid off, financial crisis, two mortgages) exacerbated these issues.
As I've aged and (hopefully) accrued (at least one iota of) wisdom, I think I have become a more open and receptive person who has shed these habits. But it's hard. It's really really really hard. My cocoon of spontaneous loathing is comfortable and cozy and I sometimes want to retreat there.
In the hopes of becoming a better TR, I'm listing some of my hot-button issues, in an effort to channel the Tao of Gheorghe more into my everyday life. I have listed 7 here. I have about 1,000 more. Maybe if I list them, I can avoid using them to instantaneously build reservoirs of vitriol towards strangers I've looked at for three seconds? Here are things that make me immediately judge people negatively.
1) Folks who chew gum with their mouth open - they look like a cow and are telling the world they have no manners. When I am forced to be near somebody doing this (on a train, standing in a line, etc), it drives me bat-shit crazy. And if there is noise associated with this bovine tendency, well I start delivering intense daggers of hatred toward that person, even if it's a 12 y/o girl.
2) Dudes who still pop collars on their golf shirts. While they may be trying to convey a "look at me, I'm adding some sizzle to my preppy look," it's like they are sending a signal to me to hate you. The "popped collar" had a run in the 80's. It came back in the early aughts. Let it go. Forever.
3) People who speak loudly into their cell phones. I had a five-year run of yelling at strangers on trains when they would do this. Thankfully, my yelling helped establish a societal norm on this, at least on NJ Transit trains. This now happens much less frequently and I haven't barked at a stranger in probably three years.
4) Couples who sit on the same side of a table at a restaurant when it's just the two of them eating. I think this has been mentioned here already. The only acceptable reason for this (in my warped head) is if the guy is trying to get to third base between courses. When I see this I assume it is being done b/c the wife keeps the man's gonads in her purse. If you do this, there's a chance you are not an awful person, but it is slim.
6) Guys who order alcoholic drinks with diet soda. There are lots of reasons why this makes sense for a person to do, but if you do it, my first thought is to think you are a pussy, no matter how much you love your "Skinny Pirate."
7) Guys who tuck in their shirts at the gym. This is an utterly nonsensical issue I have. I feel like guys who tuck in shirts are probably upstanding folks. But I think of them as half a man when I see it.
Clearly, I have some problems. But admitting them may be the first step to forgiveness.
Friday, January 03, 2025
Waiting for Content in the Waiting Room
Whyyyyyy are we waaaaaaiting?
Monday, December 30, 2024
The Twelve Days of Gheorgemas: Day 9
started quickly in Deion’s first season but faded to 4-8, prompting some to wonder if he was all sizzle and no substance. He’ll have to replace Shedeur and Hunter, though it’s increasingly apparent that he wants to and is able to build a program.