Depends What You Mean by 'Save'

The headline on the White House, ahem, “fact sheet” reads: “President Donald J. Trump Saves College Sports.” Whew. Glad that’s taken care of. Obviously, the man’s talents aren’t limited to immigration, trade policy and foreign affairs. 

President “I Alone Can Fix It” last week signed an executive order that aims to provide stability to a college athletic landscape roiled by legal challenges, greater freedom of movement and athlete compensation, increasing disparities in revenue streams for various schools and conferences, and a leadership vacuum at the top. The order includes lofty rhetoric about preserving opportunities for college athletes, protecting women’s and non-revenue or so-called “Olympic” sports, and the unique value of college athletics. 

It’s also characteristically lazy – short on details and implementation and enforcement – with a touch of threats and a Trump aggrandizement kicker at the end. It’s like many of his previous 175 EOs. He gives an order, praises its wisdom and himself, and dares anyone to challenge it. The EO also prohibits “pay-for-play” measures to athletes from schools, while still permitting athletes to make money from third-party endorsement deals. It directs the Secretary of Labor and the National Labor Relations Board to clarify the employment status of student-athletes, which under the current administration is less likely to classify them as employees or permit collective bargaining. It also instructs the Attorney General and the Federal Trade Commission to figure ways to re-establish governance back to the NCAA and conferences, and away from state legislatures and courts. 

You’re correct if you view this as part of an NCAA wish list, as the governing body has been cuffed around by various courts for years while clinging to outdated amateurism standards that are untenable, ethically and legally. Trump’s executive order cannot provide an antitrust exemption – another line on the NCAA wish list – nor can it make a law or override state laws. Only Congress can do that. What the order can do is move the needle and help generate momentum. 

The NCAA has lobbied for Federal intervention for some time, which brings us to something called the SCORE Act. That piece of proposed legislation would grant the NCAA and conferences antitrust exemption, prevent athletes from being classified as employees, override current Name, Image and Likeness (NIL) laws, and return most governing power to conferences and the NCAA. The bill passed through two Congressional committees last week – the furthest any college athletics bill has ever progressed – on strictly partisan lines; all Republican approval, zero Democrat votes. It could come up for a full vote when Congress reconvenes. It might pass the GOP-controlled House, where bills need only a simple majority. 

The Senate, however, has a 60-vote threshold for such legislation, which means that seven Democrats must cross over for passage, a dim proposition. In addition to Democrat opposition to the bill, attorneys general for the states of Ohio, Florida, New York, Tennessee and the District of Columbia sent a letter to committee chairs and multiple ranking members of Congress, which reads in part: “The SCORE Act … will not redress the persistent power imbalance between the NCAA and student-athletes. To the contrary, it risks enshrining in federal law the same lack of accountability — to antitrust laws, to the States, and to student-athletes themselves — that the Supreme Court and numerous lower federal courts have found to be indefensible. Simply put, the SCORE Act consolidates too much power in the hands of the NCAA. The NCAA is a cartel that has consistently abused its monopolistic control even in the absence of a legislative blank check to do so.” 

The Big Dumb Orange Guy fancies himself a sportsman, though for him the appeal is conquest and adulation rather than respectful competition. He’s an avid, if unscrupulous, golfer (do enjoy the Commander-in-Cheat caught on video at Turnberry this week in the video below) with courses around the world. He was part of start-up USFL ownership and was famously shut out when he tried to bluster his way into the NFL. He attends various sporting events, making himself part of the show. He has a talent for exploiting disorder, an ego that convinces him that he’s the smartest and most capable guy in the room, and a position that confers gargantuan status and influence, all of which play to the unsettled world of present day college athletics. He met with Nick Saban in May and had several conversations with a gent named Cody Campbell, a multi-billionaire and Texas Tech booster who has some ideas about how to settle the present chaos and benefit everyone. He talked up the idea of a commission to address issues, but that seems to be on hold while legislation is on the table. After the SCORE Act cleared the committees, he signed his order the next day. 

There’s reasonable skepticism that Trump’s order and his yammering about preserving and protecting college athletics are anything but power plays. It isn’t lost on people that he has picked fights with universities and withheld hundreds of millions of dollars in Federal funding over supposed failures to curb antisemitism and to scrub diversity initiatives. He’s a champion of higher education, provided institutions bend the knee and conform to his and his minions’ vision. No telling how this plays out. Executive orders are sometimes merely weighty recommendations. They can be challenged in court and changed by future administrations. Traditionalists and reformers in this debate agree on little, but both believe that there should be a framework that settles some of the chaos and uncertainty. Banking on durable, enforceable proposals from the Disruptor-in-Chief wouldn’t appear to be the way to bet.

Friday Palate Teaser

Via text, The Man of Many Email Addresses (TIMMAY, phonetically) has demanded some sort of recap from my recent (amazing, awesome, you get the drift) trip to Alaska... which I will provide at some point (think Day 12 of Gheorghemas in terms of delivery). 

But, in a show of good faith, I shall provide a Friday news dump of my own (there are no scat pics, tho that would've been a great way to lure back TR) via a few random trip photos below. Zero context shall be provided, because, well I'm lazy. Accept the post count or GTFO.

More to come at a later date. In the meantime, enjoy the weekend and face-melting temperatures in much of our respective locales.

Palate Cleanser

This town needs...an enema. Or at least, this blog needs a refresh. And so I offer you this live version of "The Theme from Phineas and Ferb" by Bowling for Soup, complete with live action Doofenshmirtz. The performance comes from a set at the Warped Tour in Washington, DC last month.

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"We're Desperate to See Fight"

"I was drinking so much alcohol. Almost a handful of vodka a day...And then you add on top of that all the crack cocaine I was doing."

So opens Andrew Callaghan's interview with Hunter Biden, who spoke those words. It careens from there.

I don't post this to advocate for Hunter Biden's return to the public eye. That's almost certainly a bad thing for the Democrats from an electoral perspective. But I do believe Biden offers some wisdom that the party should embrace. 

I'm a broken record when it comes to my abject disdain for the cowardly way in which institutional, centrist Dems tacked to the middle in the 2024 election. Tim Walz rose to prominence by stating a simple truth, which is that the MAGA GOP is fucking weird, a bunch of freaks who care more about who you're fucking and what kind of genitalia you're packing than in the general good and welfare of the nation. Walz' plainspoken facts resonated with people, and for once, had the GOP on the defensive.

And then a neutered Tim Walz showed up to debate one of the lead freaks, the odiously opportunistic JD Vance, the fighting spirit that elevated the Harris/Walz campaign dissipated in so much poll-tested triangulated dated hot air, and the freaks are running amok.

What I appreciate about Hunter Biden's new remarks is not so much the facts, but the fight contained within. There are no punches pulled (in the clips I've watched, anyway - you think I have time or the attention span to watch a three-hour interview?) and he doesn't shy away from profanely blasting both sides of the aisle. This is a taste of what the Dems get from the prodigal Biden in defense of his father:

Hunter Biden on the dem party

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— Olga Nesterova (@onestpress.onestnetwork.com) July 21, 2025 at 3:12 PM

You can argue the merits of letting Uncle Joe stay at the top of the ticket and the way the knives were ultimately unsheathed, but Hunter's not wrong about the prime movers within the party and their penchant for self-enrichment sans results.

Biden comes for Dems on immigration, too:

Hunter Biden has a point. And a quite colorful one.

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— Olga Nesterova (@onestpress.onestnetwork.com) July 21, 2025 at 2:14 PM

And the money shot, on the rampant corruption of the Trump family that we're mostly ignoring:

Hunter Biden on the Trumps: “Meanwhile, these motherf*ckers… I don’t get why people don’t understand it’s the biggest grift there is.” He says even if you believe their lies about him it doesn’t compare to corruption they’re openly doing. 🎯 Full: www.instagram.com/reel/DMYufPh...

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— The Tennessee Holler (@thetnholler.bsky.social) July 21, 2025 at 6:34 PM

There are those who tell me that Hunter Biden should shut the fuck up and go away ('sup, Z!). Those folks are not wrong. I'm hear for the message, not the messenger. As Evan Sutton (@evansutton.bsky.social) put it on the Bluesky yesterday, “Hunter Biden of all people said some true shit and it went viral. People are desperate to see some passion. We're desperate to see fight. My message to Dem leaders and consultants is simple. If Hunter fucking Biden can capture our attention and you can't, maybe that's worth reflecting on.” 

Right the fuck on.

What I Did During My Covid Break

After a grueling few weeks (Independence Day at the lake essentially ran directly into OBFT XXXII), I was looking forward to a bit of wound-licking and low-laying. Turned out I got more of the latter than I'd expected or hoped.

I felt a little tickle in my throat and a general malaise on Wednesday evening. That didn't stop me from having a couple of 12.5% Adroit Theory/Kettlehead quadruple IPAs. Because I'm a man. I'm 55.

When I woke up Thursday, I knew with a high degree of certainty what was going on. The minor symptoms of the previous evening gave way to an all-over ache, elevated temperature, a sore throat and a cough. I found an old COVID test, even though I knew what it would say. As often is the case, I was correct.

I soldiered through several work calls that day - Willis Reed sorta shit. My coffee didn't taste good and I didn't have much interest in caffeine - another significant indicator that something was amiss. My wife and I were scheduled to spend the weekend in St. Michael's. That was right out.

Instead, I sequestered in my basement, alternating naps with watching episodes 10 and 11 of season two of Andor, and sharing running commentary with my kid via text - she'd already completed the arc. I slept - not well - on the couch in the basement.

My company had a day off Friday, and I'm thankful for small blessings. I slept in , then spent the day watching The Open, then the Spain/Switzerland women's EURO quarterfinal in between naps. Naps are good. I thought I was feeling a little better, so I took my dog to a regional park along a river so she could get a romp in. I was not better - realized pretty early in the outing how weak and tired this stupid disease leaves a body.

That evening, I watched season two, episode six of Six Nations on Netflix, in which Italy beat Scotland for the first time ever. That's a tough one for the Scots, but Italy's Argentinian coach Gonzalo Quesada might be the goods.

Followed up the rugby with Andor episode 12 right into Rogue One (the former ends chronologically at the very beginning of the latter, and the continuity throughout is excellent) before I ran out of gas. Maybe 'cause gummy.

Slept in again yesterday, then rinsed and repeated: Round three of The Open, walking the dog (felt a lot sprightlier), France/Germany in the final EUROs quarter, then into some evening USL and MLS. 

During more lucid moments, read as much of Ben Fountain's "Devil Makes Three" as my stamina would allow. It's a tale of a couple of Americans in Haiti during the coup that toppled Jean-Bertrand Aristide (the first one, anyway), and it does not skimp on the background or the story. 

Last night, my symptoms were down to just a slight cough and a tiny bit of congestion. My wife wants to head to a local winery for a festival today, my health permitting. Fingers crossed, friends. Could today be the day I rejoin the world?

Turns Out 'The Shield' Isn't Just a League Nickname

It’s both disappointing and understandable that revelations about the jackery between the National Football League and its Players Association haven’t taken hold or stoked greater outrage. Labor-management disputes between the rich and uber-rich often don’t move the needle unless it results in an interruption in service, and the June-July window is tailor-made for indifference toward tackle football off-field issues. 

We’re almost a month past the initial report from professional busybody Pablo Torre that the league and the NFLPA agreed not to disclose details of an arbitration ruling on salaries to the membership, i.e., the players. The Players Association sought to determine whether the league and owners colluded to deny guaranteed contracts in the wake of the Cleveland Browns’ mega-deal with quarterback Deshaun Watson in 2022, a contract worth $230 million in fully guaranteed money. Collusion regarding contracts violates the league’s collective bargaining agreement with the PA and could result in compensation and damages to players who negotiated new deals. 

Arbitrator Chris Droney ruled last January that there wasn’t sufficient evidence to prove collusion in quarterback contracts, and most players were told simply that the PA had lost the case. However, in his final report, Droney concluded that the PA demonstrated that Commish Roger Goodell and league general counsel Jeff Pash urged owners to restrict guaranteed contracts and money going forward. That little detail wasn’t made public because of an unusual confidentiality agreement that PA management struck with league officials. 

It didn’t surface until Torre obtained the full 61-page report roughly six months later and released it, which smacked the gobs of many players and their attorneys and representatives and prompted questions such as: Who’s working for whom? Adding to the intrigue – stench, if you prefer – NFLPA executive director Lloyd Howell Jr., is also a paid, part-time consultant for a private equity firm that’s been given the go-ahead to pursue minority ownership stakes in NFL teams. He is also on the board of a multi-billion-dollar licensing firm that works with athletes’ name, image and likeness concerns founded by the NFLPA and Major League Baseball Players Association and whose finances are currently under Federal investigation. 

Prior to joining the NFLPA, Howell was chief financial officer at Booz Allen Hamilton, the Bigfoot D.C.-area based intelligence and defense contractor known for its broad reach and recently for a $377 million settlement in 2023 for fraudulently billing the U.S. government over a decade. He was a board member of General Electric HealthCare and Moody’s Corporation and was a trustee at the University of Pennsylvania, his alma mater. In short, his background is neither in football locker rooms or sharp-elbowed labor law.

 All that said, NFLPA honchos were jazzed when he became the head guy in 2023, believing that his corporate connections and boardroom acumen fit present-day major league sports administration. Fast forward to Jan. 2025. After Howell’s brokered, incomplete debriefing of the arbitration ruling, he reportedly criticized his predecessor, DeMaurice Smith, for “wasting resources” on the complaint, which was originally filed in Oct. 2022. 

It’s curious, then, that after Torre’s public release of the report and subsequent reporting by ESPN and others that the NFLPA decided to appeal the ruling. No word on why the PA waited six months to appeal or what changed that suddenly made the legal battle worth continuing, though you might hazard a guess or two. 

Union busting has a long and undistinguished history here in the Republic dating back to the Industrial Revolution and the late 19th century, as corporate titans tried their damnedest to prevent radical changes such as eight-hour workdays and living wages and safer conditions. In 21st century America, management-labor disputes in professional sports are often viewed as a piefight between millionaires and billionaires. Since most folks don’t travel in those neighborhoods, they dismiss the conflicts as some gilded penthouse squabbles and want both sides to shut up and deliver the games. 

I’d argue that it’s the same struggle, simply on a different scale. The tactics are similar – public relations blitzes, intimidation, threats, lawsuits, strikes, lockouts. One helpful comparison to differentiate between the two sides is to remember that one million seconds is 11 days; one billion seconds is 31 years. Hardly a fair fight. Billionaires, with corporate backing and resources, have outsized leverage that even millionaire laborers cannot hope to counter without collective bargaining and legal protections. Factor in the reality that athletes have a limited work and earnings window – the average NFL career lasts 3.3 years, according to recent data – and it behooves them and their representatives not to go nuclear and thus risk their careers, since in the end they are replaceable and the league and owners can always outlast them. 

As well compensated as players are, the deck remains stacked in favor of management. When those whose job it is to advocate for labor agree to zip it when management deals from the bottom of the deck and occasionally palms the cards, well, others are watching to see how it’s done. Doesn’t bode well for most of us.

New Music (at Least New to Me) Tuesday

I've become a fan of the music of Fontaines DC. The Irish band (the DC stands for Dublin City) has steadily grown in fame and critical acclaim since its 2019 debut album, Dogrel. Their 2024 record, Romance, was nominated for a Best Rock Album Grammy, and this tune, "Starburster", got a nom for Best Alternative performance:

Here's a cool article from earlier this year about the band's lead singer, Grian Chatten, and his (and all the band members' for that matter) upbringing on Irish poetry. I came across some new Fontaines earlier this week, singles that seem to have been released as bonus tracks on Romance. I really dig "It's Amazing to Be Young". It's hearkens back to 80s alternative, with references to Echo and the Bunnymen, The Godfathers, and The Smiths. 

Lorde isn't exactly new, but I'll be damned if I wasn't surprised to learn that she's only 28. Which means that she was a mere 17 when "Royals" ruled the airwaves. She's out with a new record entitled Virgin. The first single is "What Was That". It's a jam.

What else is the extended Gheorghieverse diggin' this summer? Share in the comments.

Potraits

zdaughter enjoys making art, especially painting.  This is her fifth year of art camp so she comes home every day with new pieces.  Our home gallery includes a paper-mâché hippopotamus head, a drip-painted statue of a rabbit, a picture of a watermelon pressed onto paper using a styrofoam block, and many many canvases.  She likes landscapes and seascapes but I think her best work is her portraits.

Here are two self-portraits.

She has become a major Teedge fan ever since she saw photos of his cats with wine.  She calls him The Cat Wine Guy and will tell me "text this photo to The Cat Wine Guy."  Here's her portrait of him.

Alright, maybe not.  But that's a couch potato so it could be Teedge.

Here's her portrait of TR:

Alright, maybe not.  It's a deep pull from We Bare Bears but it could be TR if you watch the episode.

Here are portraits of zcats.

The one on the right was rushed so she's going to do another this coming week.  She also says the cat on the right is harder to paint because she's all one color.  We'll see what happens.

Here's one of me.

She says it looks better this way.

Again, maybe not.  That's Spider-Man but I'm a superhero for shlepping her to and from art camp all summer.

And my favorite portrait of the summer is the one of rob.

No joking here, that's our man squirrel.  Note the slightly angry camber of his eyebrows and the tuft of gray on top of his head and peppered into his chest hair.  Spot on.

Please feel free to request a portrait.  Every morning while I'm getting her ready for camp she says "what should I paint" and no matter what I suggest she says "that's boring" or "that's lame" so she needs inspiration from outside the house.

Profiles in Cowardice, Alternatively Titled "No shit Jeff Flake!" or "Fuck you and your bolo Thom Tillis!"

Former Arizona Senator Jeff Flake (not to be confused with Jeff Lake) wrote an amazingly cowardly opinion piece in the NY Times on Sunday that rendered me irate, so much so that I yelled "No shit Jeff Flake!" out loud multiple times.

He begins with this:

Eight years ago, I stood on the floor of the Senate and announced that I would not run for re-election. I spoke then of a fever in our politics, a fever that I hoped would soon break. I noted that in today’s Republican Party, anything short of complete and unquestioning loyalty to President Trump — then in his first term — was deemed unacceptable and suspect.

Last weekend, Senator Thom Tillis announced that he would not seek re-election, and delivered a message that echoed my own. “It’s become increasingly evident,” he said, “that leaders who are willing to embrace bipartisanship, compromise and demonstrate independent thinking are becoming an endangered species.”

His decision underscores what I feared in 2017: The fever still hasn’t broken. In today’s Republican Party, voting your conscience is essentially disqualifying.

No shit Jeff Flake!  We got a fever!  Had it for over ten years now!  What the fuck have you done about it?  Oh that's right, you walked away from politics so you wouldn't have to deal with it.  Cool, cool.

He goes on to opine:

But the deeper concern isn’t about any single congressional race or even the balance of power in the Senate — it’s about the long-term health of our political institutions. As senators like Thom Tillis step aside, the chamber grows ever more polarized. There are fewer and fewer members willing to reach across the aisle, take tough votes or engage in the quiet, unglamorous work of real legislating.

No shit Jeff Flake!  The senate is polarized like Edwin Land's sunglasses!  Been this way for over ten years now!  And what the fuck are you talking about with "senators like Thom Tillis" who are "willing to reach across the aisle"?  Did he vote against any of Trump's recent cabinet appointees?  Did he vote in against Amy Coney Barrett's last-second confirmation?  Did he vote to convict in either of Trump's impeachments?  No, no, no--in other words, he went along with all of it.

Then he drops this gem:

Extreme partisanship has infected both parties, but it plays out differently. Among Democrats, it tends to be issue-driven — focused on ambitious policy goals, however unrealistic or out of step they may sometimes be. Among Republicans, it’s become personality-driven, centered almost entirely on staying in lock step with the president. That’s an even more dangerous trajectory, because it divorces political allegiance from any stable set of principles. When a party’s North Star is an individual, the direction of policy and the integrity of governance itself suffer.

Oh, fuck you Jeff Flake!  Democrats are partisan on the issues?  How fucking surprising, a political party has a partisan view on a political issue.  Give me a break.

And this broke me:

I admire Senator Tillis for choosing not to betray his convictions just to secure another term. But his departure is a loss for the nation, the Senate and the Republican Party — indeed, for conservatism — which desperately need more voices willing to stand on principle rather than bend to one man’s will.

Kiss my ass Jeff Flake!  Tillis's departure is a loss for the nation!?  That dumb fuck went along with all of Trump's bullshit, I just outlined that!  You're a schmuck.

He closes with this smoldering pile of horseshit:

The question facing Republicans still in the Senate is what to do about it. Is it better to stand your ground from within, refusing to bend even under intense primary pressure, knowing you may lose your seat but help restore a standard of principled dissent? Or to break openly with your party and run as an independent, showing voters there is another way to serve? Or, as some of us have done, to step aside entirely, yet continue pressing for the values of decency, truth and constitutional balance from outside the chamber?

A good case can be made for each of these paths. None offer certainty. But doing nothing — simply going along to get along — guarantees the fever won’t break anytime soon. It ensures that the loudest voices will keep drowning out those who would govern responsibly. The Senate and our country need more leaders willing to pay a political price to uphold what they know is right. In the long run, that is the only way this fever ends.

No shit Jeff Flake!  What brave acts have you taken since you bowed out of the Senate?  Were you out and about in Arizona canvassing for Kamala?  Were you on the Sunday shows making the "anyone but Trump" arguments?  Did you call up your old homeboys in the Senate at any point while Trump was in his 1.0/45 term and press them to vote the right way on impeachment, appointments, bills?  I haven't heard anything about that.

I wasn't going to bother writing this post until I saw another article in the NY Times.  It's titled "Tillis Suggests He Regrets Vote to Confirm Hegseth, Calling Him ‘Out of His Depth’" and it features this photo of Tillis:

It looks like the GOP is overrun with assholes in bolos.  At least I get to use the "bolos" label again.

Tillis said he now regrets voting to confirm Pete Hegseth because “With the passing of time, I think it’s clear he’s out of his depth as a manager of a large, complex organization.”

Fuck you you and your bolo Thom Tillis!  I have a lot of experience in a very specific area.  If you need someone to do this type of work, you hire me.  If you hired me to, say, manage a sporting goods store I might be able to do it but I've never done it before so you're taking a risk.  It might be more prudent to hire someone with experience running a sneaker store.  Taking that type of risk is ill-advised when you're looking for someone to run something like the United States Department of Defense.  And you knew Hegseth had no relevant experience!

This is already too long so I'll wrap it up with one last cowardly outrage.  The NYT article on Tillis also says:

Mr. Tillis said he had deferred to the Senate Armed Services Committee when it came to evaluating Mr. Hegseth’s ability to do the job of defense secretary and to Senator Bill Cassidy, the Louisiana Republican and physician who chairs the health committee, on Mr. Kennedy’s fitness.

“Quite honestly, the main reason I supported Kennedy was because Bill Cassidy thought that we should see how it plays out,” Mr. Tillis said.

Fuck you Thom Tillis!  And your dumbass bolo!  Did the people of North Carolina put you in office so you could vote however some guy from Louisiana tells you?  Of course not!  North Carolina might as well send no one to DC and have Cassidy vote three times.  And Cassidy voted to impeach the second time around--why didn't you listen to him then?  Oh that's right, you're a fucking coward!  You just went along with everyone else!  Which brings me back to Jeff Flake's article extolling Thom Tillis's boloed bravery.  One last time, fuck you Jeff Flake.

Guess Who's Back

Did you guys watch the original Toxic Avenger movies from the 1980's?

Welp, they're remaking everything from ever, and it's usually weak sauce. 

This, however, has me intrigued...

Coming in August to a theater near you, especially if you live in New Jersey. 

A Dream Deferred

My fondness for Porsches is well documented, so much so that I won't bother linking to some of my Porsche-related G:TB posts.  It will not surprise you that I like to peruse Porsche's finder website to look at cars I will never be able to afford with the hope that I will someday stumble across a hidden gem in the center of my ideal Porsche Venn diagram (manual, roofless, air-cooled, green on the outside, tan-and-pepita on the inside, mechanically sound, affordable).  A boy's gotta dream.

Today I found an achingly perfect 911, a 1977 911S Targa in Oak Green over beige-and-pepita with a 5-speed manual transmission and in preposterously crispy condition at Rusnak Porsche in Pasadena, CA.  

Smack dab in the middle of my Venn diagram!!  Except it's a little too mechanically sound--it has only 437 miles so it's literally a museum quality car.  Which means the most critical aspect of the Venn diagram, price, is waaaaay out of wack.  Rusnak wants [double-checks notes] $896,488.  That's American dollars, not yen or baht.

Alas.  I'll keep on dreaming.

Kind of a Big Dill

It's hot out there, y'all. And all that hot is terrible for my creativity and motivation. Mix in a general sense that we're witnessing the accelerating decline of the American empire, and I got not much for a hungry readership. On the bright side, it's OBFT week, so I'll get to pickle much of my ennui. 

Mmmm, pickles. I have one every day for lunch. 

My go to are these, from Grillo's - excellent snap, just enough kick:

Over the past few months, I've discovered a local vendor who's usually posted up at the Farmer's Market in my town. They're called The Big Brine, and I'm currently digging their serrano chili-enhanced spears. Could be a little crisper, but the flavor is outstanding. 

As much as I love a good pickle, I'm not down with the increasing trend of brewers including pickle brine in their beers. Even my guys at Grillo's and Lord Hobo have succumbed:

I'm not trying to ferment any kind of revolution here, just saying this isn't my dill. Stay cool out there, friends. Heat'll make your brain think weird thoughts.

Hey Baby

 

Hi Ren

Ren Gill is a revelation. The Welsh multi-hyphenate artist built his sound on a foundation of old school hip hop, busking-honed guitar, and incisive wordplay. His musical chops are formidable, and the trauma associated with a decade-plus daily struggle with mental illness brought on by undiagnosed Lyme Disease adds an emotional depth to his lyrics.

He records as Ren, and on any given record can go from dazzling stream of consciousness rap to gentle ballad to near-pop sensibility. He's a hard cat to pin down. 

So maybe just have a listen. Here's hoping more of the world learns his story (and do catch the NPR interview below he did in 2023 promoting the release of his album, Sick Boi - the daily pain he still suffers makes his music all the more remarkable).

This is an acoustic noodling of 2020's "Diazepam":

"Seven Sins" is the first track from Sick Boi - this one hits hard:

"Hi Ren" was released in 2022:

His cover of the Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony" is where he first came to my attention

Might be my favorite of his songs - he wrote "Patience" for the 2017 soundtrack to Unrest, a documentary film about a woman's battle against chronic fatigue syndrome:

"What You Want" is a full on Beastie Boys homage - dig it:

Here's the NPR interview mentioned above:

And finally, a Spotify playlist that captures Ren in all of his guises:

Chronicles of an Aging Gheorghie, Part Next

As I stockpile birthdays and medical conditions, I sometimes feel like a participant in the old social media exercise: Convey your age without using a number or a year. Something like, ‘My kindergarten class was cancelled the day after John F. Kennedy’s assassination,’ or ‘I need my glasses to clean my hearing aids so I can talk to the cardiologist about my pacemaker.’ 

The latest addition to the playlist came one recent afternoon when I looked up and thought I had a strand of hair or an eyelash in front of my left eye. After I brushed and attempted to clear it away, I re-opened my eye. The strand was still there. Rubbed again and re-opened. Still there. I looked up and down, side to side. 

The strand, which appeared to be a couple of small, squiggly, blurry lines, moved in whatever direction I focused. Didn’t impede my field of vision or clarity. Just a small bother, something that hadn’t been there minutes earlier. Initial anxiety gave way to a research rabbit hole of eyesight conditions – cataracts, glaucoma, macular degeneration – and where I learned that the term “floaters” doesn’t apply solely to fecal matter. 

As we age, the gel in our eyes can congeal in small spots or strands. They cast shadows on the retina, the light-sensitive layer of tissue at the back of the eye, and those shadows appear as “floaters” in our vision. They’re more noticeable in light-colored settings, say if you’re looking at a clear blue sky or white paper. “Floaters” are fairly common past age 60, according to the National Institute of Health’s National Eye Institute, and sometimes will clear up on their own. However, they can also be a signal of more serious conditions. Multiple websites recommend reaching out to an optometrist ASAP for further testing. 

As it was the weekend and the local eye doc’s office was closed, me and my floaters were left to the Intertoobz, where I Google’d my way to all sorts of grim outcomes – invasive surgeries, eye patches, lengthy recoveries, vision loss. First thing Monday morning, I went to the doc’s office, told the receptionist what was up and asked if I could make an appointment. She checked the schedule book and said, if you can wait a few minutes, we can see you now. Huge score. 

Within an hour an assistant and an optometrist examined my eyes and were far more encouraged about my situation than I was when I walked in the door. No tears or ruptures. Vision is good. No treatment required. Come back in a couple months for a follow-up. 

The clinical term for my condition is Posterior Vitreous Detachment. Over time, the vitreous gel that fills the eye begins to liquify and shrink, pulling away from the retina, and can cause floaters or flashes (streaks of light, usually at the side of vision field). According to the American Society of Retina Specialists, if PVD progresses gradually and uniformly, symptoms are mild. Approximately 85 percent of people who experience PVD never develop complications, and in many cases floaters and flashes subside within three months. 

In the days after my exam, the floater has become a small, blurry oval that mostly bears left and that actually has a name among the retina crowd – a Weiss ring, named for the doctor who first described it in 1990. Again, field of vision and clarity are fine, which isn’t always the case, as people can experience multiple floaters or they can appear as cobwebs or dust or a swarm of insects and greatly interfere with eyesight. For me, it’s a tolerable peculiarity and one more descriptor on an old guy’s resume’.

The Goatest City in the World

Everyone knows that when Alexander Hamilton wrote the Declaration of Independence he penned the part where it declares New York City is the greatest city in the world.  They even made a song about it.  And it's true!  You can see, hear, taste, touch, smell, eat, drink, snort, smoke, read, watch, wear or ride just about anything you can think of in NYC.

Including a goat eating competition.  By that I mean a competition where goats eat, not where people eat goats.  The Great Goat Graze-Off is taking place in Riverside Park on July 12!  H/t to Teedge for the heads up.  The caprine competition will be supplemented by Nice Brass, a New Orleans style brass band.  Here's a link for tickets.  The contestants are:

Their bios are impressive.  My money's on Rufus.  These are working goats, employed by the Riverside Park Conservancy to weed out unwanted plants.  If you click on that link and scroll down to "Why Goats?" (a question I've asked numerous times) you'll see that "They are able to traverse difficult, hard-to-reach places, and can also gulp down poison ivy without a second thought .... Not only to goats eat almost constantly — they can consume 25% of their own body weight in vegetation in just one day — but their fecal matter adds nutrients to the soil as they go."  This is all very familiar--goats will eat anything, and it's critical to keep their fecal matter outside the house.

"Da fug yoo loogin at, ya bacciagaloupe?"

I'm down with da goats, everyone knows that, but I do take umbrage with the assertion that this is the "first-ever competitive eating contest" twixt those of the hircine persuasion.  And I'm confident you do too.

I plan on being there with an extra large pot of Mrs. Morgan's beans.

Fashion is... Dumb: NBA Draft Edition

Howdy folks, you might remember me from such filler as "The Ghoogles" and the long-forgotten "Ceai Complet". Well, in honor of tonight's NBA Draft first round coverage (seriously, do we really need the second round on it's own separate night?), I have returned from the dead (DC weather) for a special edition of my personal fav filler, FiD. 

I am hoping for one of the more exciting drafts in memory, as the salary cap and all these variety of aprons (not machine washable) might have teams wheeling and dealing, like Boston over the last two days. And questions abound: will Ace Bailey hijack a 737? Will Washington then take him 6? What the hell are the Nets gonna do with FIVE first round picks? Does Kon Knueppel's middle name happen to start with a "K"? If he falls in the draft, who drops the first "Wrath of Kon" skeet? (hint, in my most sing-songy Timberlake voice, IT'S GONNA BE MAAAAY)

But seriously, *extreme Chandler Bing voice* could this man use any more parens?

Samaki Walker, you beautiful beautiful... bust:

Amazingly, this is not actually Drew Gooden, there are three robs standing on top of each other under that tarp of a suit:

LeBron in his French aristocrat phase:

Here's Gradey Dick dressed like Vanilla Ice was a Dick Tracy villain:

For no reason at all, here's Jan Vesely looking sad and depressed, as any Wizards draft pick should be:

And to close us out, our namesake and his draft night fit. See you all in the comments. VIVA LES WIZERABLES

Gheorghasbord: Keepin' It Movin'

Iran and Israel might not know what the fuck they're doing, but we here at G:TB HQ sure do. One day at a time, sweet Jesus. One day at a time.

Big day in the Big Apple, as NYC Democrats head to the polls to select their candidate in this autumn's mayoral race. Bigfoot Andrew Cuomo, who we last saw resigning from the his position as Governor of New York in disgrace, leads in most pollsters' counts on the eve of the primary. But upstart state legislator Zohran Mamdani has closed to within a hair's breadth of the machine pol. 

Mamdani's campaign has been fresh, and inclusive, and people-driven - all the things the Democratic Party claims to want. Cuomo's has been a drab rehash of the same old same old, fronted by a dude who's credibly accused of sexual harassment by 13 women and of falsifying COVID death counts in nursing homes during his time in Albany. Team Cuomo has trotted out Bill Clinton, James Carville, and Harvey Weinstein as endorsers (possibly not one of those), while Mamdani has managed to secure the cross-endorsements of two of his chief rivals in the race (important in NYC's ranked choice voting process) and notably, Kid Mero.

Longer post to follow on this point, but if the institutional party manages to drag Cuomo over the line, the result will validate the significant majority of younger voters who don't think the Dems have anything to offer them. I'm hoping Mamdani (not because I care much about NYC politics, but because I think a Mamdani win would signal possibility more broadly) and fully expecting to be disappointed and (more) disillusioned.

In the meantime, as the NBA season ends and MLB enters the grind portion of the schedule, there's a shitload of footy on offer (possibly too much, if you value player health). Here in the U.S. alone, the newest iteration of the Club World Cup and the CONCACAF Gold Cup are taking place at the same time. 

The former features 32 clubs from around the globe, from the bluest of European bloods like Real Madrid, Bayern Munich, and Juventus, to proud South American outfits like River Plate, Boca Juniors, Palmeiras, and Botafogo, to entertaining African sides like Mamelodi Sundowns and Wydad AC, to Asian teams like Urawa Red Diamonds and Ulsan, to MLS' own Inter Miami, LAFC, and Seattle Sounders, and all the way to minnows like Auckland FC (outscored 16-0 through two matches).

Quality has been mixed, as has fan reaction in the U.S. (for me, it's a case of oversaturation), but there have been some notable exceptions. Saudi Arabia's Al Hilal drew Real Madrid. The Brazilian clubs have been phenomenal. And the aforementioned Urawa Red Diamonds fans made a huge impression with their 90 minutes of full-throated support in their club's 2-1 loss to Inter Milan. 

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The Club World Cup is a transparent money grab in the best (worst) tradition of FIFA. But with some fun sides like Inter Miami and Flamengo moving on to the knockouts, it's a least an entertaining story.

Stay cool out there, my friends. It's a scorcher.