When I decided to become a vegetarian for Lent, I wondered if I should write about it in this blog, and share the experience of going meatless with the world.
I didn't for a number of reasons. I'm not a big fan of the kinds of works where someone decides they are going to do something (going on just beer for lent, for example, which someone actually did this year, I saw on CNN this morning) and then write a book about the experience. And in this case, the experience would have made for pretty dull reading. Everything was fine, it was a lot easier than I thought it would be.
Plus, there is something in the Bible about how if you are fasting you don't go out in the town square, tear your robes, and say "Hey Everybody! I'm fasting and it sucks! Come and see how Holy I am!" or something to that regard. Had I done that, Cotton Mather's vengeful God (I like to call him ol' Gin and Vinegar) would certainly cast me into a pit of charcoal briquettes, a fitting punishment if I ever heard one.
Of course, that may have been inconsequential, as I already can feel the flames licking at my toes anyway. For you see, when Easter comes this Sunday I will not have been a vegetarian for the entire Lenten season. I stumbled once, and a heady mix of beer, boobs, billiards, and bangers took me there.
A few weeks ago I found out my favorite bar, "The Firkin and Frigate" was closing at the Newport News Town Centre. It is going to be replaced by "Toby Keith's Boot in your Ass American Cowboy Bar", and it needed the space.....that, and the Frigate was about 4 months behind on its rent.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise to me. No one was ever there. There were cigarette burns in some of the upholstery. It smelled a little funny, kind of like the 4th floor of VPI's all male Pritchard Hall but not nearly as strong. But in different (though not necessarily happier) times my wife and I would go there on Monday evenings to have a couple quiet drinks and smoke a cigarette or two.
Good God. The cigarettes. I had nearly forgotten. My poor father. I came home from school one day when I was 6, fresh from another round of DARE indoctrination, and told my Dad that the occasional cigar he used to enjoy was going to give him the black lung. To his immense credit, he stopped smoking that rare cigar. Except, of course, on July 4th, when he'd have one clenched between his teeth to act as a sort of slow match he could use to light fire crackers that would skitter across our yard with dumb mercilessness, forcing my brother and I to take cover in drainage ditches, behind trees, under rocks. We loved it. I reckon my Dad did too, for a variety of reasons.
At any rate, the irony (tragedy? guilt?) that I would have been so adamant about him quitting the rare smoke when I in fact took it up myself was not lost on me. If he snuck the odd cigar here or there, I can't blame him. On the other hand, both my granddads died earlier then they had to because they were heavy smokers, so it's certainly not something I can really condone. I've seen what it can do to you. As for me, I reckon in my life I have had 25 cigarettes, a few hookahs of tobacco, a handful of cigars. I don't aim to have anymore; I figure I have shortened my life enough, thank you.
What was I talking about? Oh yes! Toby fucking Keith is taking my bar away. MY BAR! So I grabbed my jacket, put on me cap, and headed out to the pub for a farewell drink.
When I got there, I remembered the Chelsea versus Manchester United match was on, so I asked the woman manning the bar to go turn on the match. I settled in to my seat at the bar, ready to hear the glorious sounds of Stamford Bridge in full roar. Instead, I got to watch the bartender look for it on Direct TV. All we found was a message saying "This so-called English style Pub doesn't subscribe to any channel that would allow the most glorious game ever made on God's green earth to be piped into this room that is left duller by the lack of it's magnificent presence. All there is to watch is basketball. Sorry."
I nearly left, saying "screw you guys, maybe if you actually showed soccer you would have done better," but of course that is probably not true. In any case, the bartender was extremely apologetic, so I stayed and ordered a Smithwick's and raised my glass in a final toast to what once had been a wonderful place to spend some time with family and friends.
Well, you know how things go. One thing leads to another, yes? The man at one end of the bar starts telling a tall tale. The basketball game suddenly actually becomes interesting for a brief moment. I have another Smithwhicks. Some one asks me if I play pool, and I inform him most genteel like that I suck at pool. He assures me he does as well. As it turns out, we are both right, and we have an epic 1 hour game, over the course of which I have two more. Having been defeated in a fair fight, I re-take my seat at the bar. The woman tending it looks more attractive somehow. Her hair is different, I notice something in her smile that wasn't there before, and I can't be sure but I think she's unbuttoned one of her buttons that was buttoned before, just one - is that a tattoo? I have another. Soon, I'm holding court, telling people about all kinds of shit I have never done, an expert on politics and sports - the first basketball game ended a while ago, but it's a double header and the second has turned out to be a real cracker jack!
And I am hungry. I ask for a menu, and I do remember my vegetarian promise to the Lord, because I am a few weeks in and its a habit now. To my despair, there is not really much on the menu that fits. What to do?
In my case, I turn to how men for all of history have weaseled their way out of religious obligations: I apply the stunning power of my intellect, use the God given gift of human reason. Of course, I've had a fair amount of Smitick's by now. My pool game may be on point (as on point as it is going to be, at least), but at this time the finer points of ethics and systematic theology are not my bailiwick. So my reasoning rather becomes mere single points of justification. Its my favorite bar, and it's closing soon, and it's one of the only places that I can get bangers and mash (English sausage, mashed potatoes, and baked beans). It's extraordinary circumstances. Surely God would not mind, would make an exception in this case? Besides, I have read that bangers and mash is one of David Beckham's favorite meals. I mean, if it's Beckham's favorite, than surely God must be smiling on it...
And so I did it. Broke a Holy Promise for some sausage, baked beans, mashed potatoes (which I think were instant). When I sobered up enough to make it home and reflect on what I had done, I did not feel good about it, and bangers were sitting sort of strangely in my stomach.
Now my fate rests with God (though surely it always has). If God be love, when I get to Heaven he'll say "It's okay, my son my son. I understand. Did you know that it's David Beckham's favorite meal?" But if God is really Ol' Gin and Vinegar, he will toss me into the pit where my eternal Hell awaits: being strapped into a seat at a bar, force fed bangers and mash by an inhuman she-devil with skin covered in tattoos, while a certain song plays on endless loop in the background.
That song: "I Love This Bar" by Toby Keith. That's righteous justice, my friends. That's Righteous Justice!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Books You May Not Like: "When Giants Ruled the Earth" By Mick Wall
I don't usually go for books about music. For one, music in and of itself is very hard to write about. How does one describe the finale to Beethoven's 9th or Jimi Hendrix's Electric Ladyland? I mean, yes, you could just say that both are "Awesome", but that is hardly enough material to fill a book.
But then, a rock biography isn't just about the music (was it ever about the music? Maybe it was once. Not anymore). Rock biographies are about bands that get their shit together through hard work and happenstance, hit it big with raw and earnest material, reach a zenith at about the time they are doing coke off a groupie's naked backside, fly too close to the sun, and crash hard. At least, it is if you were a band pre-punk. Post punk, you skip from delivering raw, earnest material to being caught up in your own hubris and you find that you are exactly the kind of the band you hated when you were just a garage band fooling around at John's house.
When Giants Ruled the Earth follows the rather predictable storyline of a rock-biography of the first kind. The author (Mick Wall) can't be blamed for this, as he is merely putting pen to paper and telling us the story of what is arguably the greatest rock band of all time: Led Zeppelin.
It's an unflinching look at the band. He starts out at the beginning, with the dissolution of the Yardbirds and follows through all the way to the death of John Bonham and beyond, concluding the narrative in 2009 when Robert Plant was touring the world with Alison Krause and Jimmy Page was left brooding over a cup of tea in London town. It's an account well balanced between describing the work done on albums and the touring the band did all over the world. Wall delves very deeply into Page's interest in the occult, which was (is?) far deeper than I had ever imagined it to be. Otherwise, what is found within can best be summed up in a couple of lists:
Things that Led Zeppelin Did Well:
Play their instruments (most of the time)
Do drugs/drink alcohol
Produce records
Wear funny clothes
Catch mud sharks
Play live, in concert (again, most of the time)
Things that Led Zeppelin Did Not Do Well:
Dissuade women from having sex with them
Give credit for song ideas that were not theirs (this happened a lot)
Play Baseball (White Sox 15, Led Zeppelin 2)
Be kind to hotel staff and respectful of hotel property
Reunite for comeback tours
The last point is especially interesting. Fun as it is to read about hedonistic tours and long hours put in the studios, the most interesting part of the story is what happens after Zeppelin dissolves. Wall's writing of Bonham's death, funeral, and how the band decided they could not go on without Bonzo is the most touching part of the book. And the last chapter is an interesting study in how two men deal with a glorious if somewhat infamous past. Jimmy Page (lead guitar...though I really shouldn't have to tell you people who he is), at least according to and at the time of this book (2009), is definitely interested in getting the band back together for a tour. Robert Plant (vocals) is not interested in the least. As always, John Paul Jones somewhere is caught in the middle, though seems to side with Page.
Plant especially is interesting. His solo career has found new life in projects with Alison Krause and his own Band of Joy. He is interested in moving forward, and when you read his quotes in the book (and when you hear him give a radio interview) he almost seems embarrassed about some of the work he did with Led Zeppelin, notably with the nonsensical lyrics to Stairway to Heaven, which many believe is the greatest rock song ever written (me, honestly, not my favorite). Yes, he may reprise some Zeppelin songs on the road, but they are done in a different way and no doubt there is a different feel to the experience.
For my money, Led Zeppelin is probably the greatest rock band in the world. I agree that they are far from the best song writers, and their music doesn't really MEAN much, it just is (i.e. it doesn't really stand for anything...no politics, no cause, it just is). But in their versatility, ability, and the power of their live shows (which you can get a taste of in some DVDs and CDs released about 10 years ago highlighting their work as a live band) I think, in my opinion, they get the nod over other super groups. But knowing that Plant feels self-conscious about his time in the band made feel a little embarrassed about queuing up a little Led Zep on my IPod at work. I wonder if I will ever be able to listen to the music again without sharing, if only a very, very little, Plant's reservations and the belief that maybe its time to embrace what is new and put to bed what is old.
It really makes me wonder...
But then, a rock biography isn't just about the music (was it ever about the music? Maybe it was once. Not anymore). Rock biographies are about bands that get their shit together through hard work and happenstance, hit it big with raw and earnest material, reach a zenith at about the time they are doing coke off a groupie's naked backside, fly too close to the sun, and crash hard. At least, it is if you were a band pre-punk. Post punk, you skip from delivering raw, earnest material to being caught up in your own hubris and you find that you are exactly the kind of the band you hated when you were just a garage band fooling around at John's house.
When Giants Ruled the Earth follows the rather predictable storyline of a rock-biography of the first kind. The author (Mick Wall) can't be blamed for this, as he is merely putting pen to paper and telling us the story of what is arguably the greatest rock band of all time: Led Zeppelin.
It's an unflinching look at the band. He starts out at the beginning, with the dissolution of the Yardbirds and follows through all the way to the death of John Bonham and beyond, concluding the narrative in 2009 when Robert Plant was touring the world with Alison Krause and Jimmy Page was left brooding over a cup of tea in London town. It's an account well balanced between describing the work done on albums and the touring the band did all over the world. Wall delves very deeply into Page's interest in the occult, which was (is?) far deeper than I had ever imagined it to be. Otherwise, what is found within can best be summed up in a couple of lists:
Things that Led Zeppelin Did Well:
Play their instruments (most of the time)
Do drugs/drink alcohol
Produce records
Wear funny clothes
Catch mud sharks
Play live, in concert (again, most of the time)
Things that Led Zeppelin Did Not Do Well:
Dissuade women from having sex with them
Give credit for song ideas that were not theirs (this happened a lot)
Play Baseball (White Sox 15, Led Zeppelin 2)
Be kind to hotel staff and respectful of hotel property
Reunite for comeback tours
The last point is especially interesting. Fun as it is to read about hedonistic tours and long hours put in the studios, the most interesting part of the story is what happens after Zeppelin dissolves. Wall's writing of Bonham's death, funeral, and how the band decided they could not go on without Bonzo is the most touching part of the book. And the last chapter is an interesting study in how two men deal with a glorious if somewhat infamous past. Jimmy Page (lead guitar...though I really shouldn't have to tell you people who he is), at least according to and at the time of this book (2009), is definitely interested in getting the band back together for a tour. Robert Plant (vocals) is not interested in the least. As always, John Paul Jones somewhere is caught in the middle, though seems to side with Page.
Plant especially is interesting. His solo career has found new life in projects with Alison Krause and his own Band of Joy. He is interested in moving forward, and when you read his quotes in the book (and when you hear him give a radio interview) he almost seems embarrassed about some of the work he did with Led Zeppelin, notably with the nonsensical lyrics to Stairway to Heaven, which many believe is the greatest rock song ever written (me, honestly, not my favorite). Yes, he may reprise some Zeppelin songs on the road, but they are done in a different way and no doubt there is a different feel to the experience.
For my money, Led Zeppelin is probably the greatest rock band in the world. I agree that they are far from the best song writers, and their music doesn't really MEAN much, it just is (i.e. it doesn't really stand for anything...no politics, no cause, it just is). But in their versatility, ability, and the power of their live shows (which you can get a taste of in some DVDs and CDs released about 10 years ago highlighting their work as a live band) I think, in my opinion, they get the nod over other super groups. But knowing that Plant feels self-conscious about his time in the band made feel a little embarrassed about queuing up a little Led Zep on my IPod at work. I wonder if I will ever be able to listen to the music again without sharing, if only a very, very little, Plant's reservations and the belief that maybe its time to embrace what is new and put to bed what is old.
It really makes me wonder...
Saturday, April 9, 2011
One Curmudgeon Returns, and One Curmudgeon Bows Out
I have been relatively silent on political issues since the 2010 elections that saw Republicans take back the house and fill some seats in the Senate. Why this is I don't fully know; part of it was probably my disappointment with the election results. But I think the rest of it may have been because I was starting to feel that my commentary had become a bit too caustic. Too much focus on the personalities that hog the limelight and not enough talk on the issues that those personalities are trying, in their own haphazard and clunky way, to resolve.
I think this may have been a reflection on the news I was watching and listening to; if your main national news source in CNN, you tend to focus on what they are focusing on. Politics may be number one at CNN, but unfortunately politics is mostly made up of personalities. Add to that an attempt to try and hear things from the "other side" by listening to Sean Hannity and reading Glenn Beck and Larry Schweikhart and you make one very antsy American who loves nothing more than to heap coals on the likes of a Palin or Limbaugh (though the second one probably deserves it).
This has all changed. I have stopped watching CNN and, aside from checking the website a few times here and there to make sure the World hasn't blown up (they would be the first to know), I really haven't had anything to do with them. I don't listen to Sean Hannity anymore, and I have been delighted to find that Palin has returned to Alaska to hibernate for the winter and think about whether she wants to run for president or not. For that matter, I rarely have the opportunity to watch The Daily Show any more, though I listen to The Bugle every week.
Have I abandoned the news altogether? Oh no, far from it. I still subscribe to my local paper, which I feel I do more out of charity than anything else, but its my best source for local news. I listen to NPR (which is National Public Radio or Nazi Public Radio, wherever your political heart takes you). And, in an amazing conglomeration of old and new, I have started subscribing to one of our better known communist rags, The New York Times, which gets delivered to my Kindle everyday over the vast network of tubes that constitute the Internet. It's amazing to me that everything old is, in its way, new again.
Thus, if I am not better informed (The New York Times is hardly infallible, as has been seen with some recent ethical issues), I at least feel that my information has a little more depth and along with it a little more detachment.
I have always felt that is our duty to discuss and debate the issues of the day so that we might be better citizens. And so, in a new state of mind, I re-enter the political blogging arena.
All that being said, it's incredibly ironic that my very first post dedicated to politics concerns my delight over Glenn Beck leaving his television program. It's doubly ironic that I found about this when John Stewart gave him a resounding send-up and send-off on The Daily Show, on one of the rare days when I get to watch it. Seriously, when I found out I did a little jig in my living room (though in the future it will be shown that the jig was the product of British Propaganda, and is cut from film footage of me saluting the cat on completing yet another day in her long and illustrious life). John Stewart does a hilarious impression of Beck, though its naturally over the top..way over the top.
My joy was arrested by the thought that, perhaps, in being struck down Beck will become more powerful than we can ever imagine in some kind of Obi-Wan Kenobish kind of way. It's already known that he will keep working with Fox, and maybe in addition to that he's going to criss cross the country in 2012 getting people riled up for the presidential elections, the end of the world, or both. Or perhaps he will hover in space, and as Sarah Palin is flying her x-wing down the trench that holds the only weakness in Obama's diabolical political machine, her eyes glued to a GPS unit, Beck's ghostly voice will tell her to use the Force (which in this case would probably be the power of Christ, as "the Force" is probably too pagan/comsic and largely under copyright protection by Lucasfilm)...
Well, I guess not much has changed after all. Like I said; everything old is new again.
Notes for the uninitiated:
Larry Schweikhart wrote A Patriot's History of the United States, among other books. It is a history written from a very "Republican" point of view. Basically, the founders were awesome, virtually everyone else increased the size of government, and Reagan is a god. I found that it was very selective in that it focused on things large and small that fit into his narrative on our nation, while ignoring many of the things that didn't fit. I didn't like it much at all, but I struggled through the entire volume.
"The Bugle" is a podcast released from the "The Times" of London where Daily Show Correspondent John Oliver and British comedian Andy Zaltzmann lampoon the news as best they can, delivering a healthy dose of bull shit and bad puns along the way. Free in t-tunes. Worth every penny.
I think this may have been a reflection on the news I was watching and listening to; if your main national news source in CNN, you tend to focus on what they are focusing on. Politics may be number one at CNN, but unfortunately politics is mostly made up of personalities. Add to that an attempt to try and hear things from the "other side" by listening to Sean Hannity and reading Glenn Beck and Larry Schweikhart and you make one very antsy American who loves nothing more than to heap coals on the likes of a Palin or Limbaugh (though the second one probably deserves it).
This has all changed. I have stopped watching CNN and, aside from checking the website a few times here and there to make sure the World hasn't blown up (they would be the first to know), I really haven't had anything to do with them. I don't listen to Sean Hannity anymore, and I have been delighted to find that Palin has returned to Alaska to hibernate for the winter and think about whether she wants to run for president or not. For that matter, I rarely have the opportunity to watch The Daily Show any more, though I listen to The Bugle every week.
Have I abandoned the news altogether? Oh no, far from it. I still subscribe to my local paper, which I feel I do more out of charity than anything else, but its my best source for local news. I listen to NPR (which is National Public Radio or Nazi Public Radio, wherever your political heart takes you). And, in an amazing conglomeration of old and new, I have started subscribing to one of our better known communist rags, The New York Times, which gets delivered to my Kindle everyday over the vast network of tubes that constitute the Internet. It's amazing to me that everything old is, in its way, new again.
Thus, if I am not better informed (The New York Times is hardly infallible, as has been seen with some recent ethical issues), I at least feel that my information has a little more depth and along with it a little more detachment.
I have always felt that is our duty to discuss and debate the issues of the day so that we might be better citizens. And so, in a new state of mind, I re-enter the political blogging arena.
All that being said, it's incredibly ironic that my very first post dedicated to politics concerns my delight over Glenn Beck leaving his television program. It's doubly ironic that I found about this when John Stewart gave him a resounding send-up and send-off on The Daily Show, on one of the rare days when I get to watch it. Seriously, when I found out I did a little jig in my living room (though in the future it will be shown that the jig was the product of British Propaganda, and is cut from film footage of me saluting the cat on completing yet another day in her long and illustrious life). John Stewart does a hilarious impression of Beck, though its naturally over the top..way over the top.
My joy was arrested by the thought that, perhaps, in being struck down Beck will become more powerful than we can ever imagine in some kind of Obi-Wan Kenobish kind of way. It's already known that he will keep working with Fox, and maybe in addition to that he's going to criss cross the country in 2012 getting people riled up for the presidential elections, the end of the world, or both. Or perhaps he will hover in space, and as Sarah Palin is flying her x-wing down the trench that holds the only weakness in Obama's diabolical political machine, her eyes glued to a GPS unit, Beck's ghostly voice will tell her to use the Force (which in this case would probably be the power of Christ, as "the Force" is probably too pagan/comsic and largely under copyright protection by Lucasfilm)...
Well, I guess not much has changed after all. Like I said; everything old is new again.
Notes for the uninitiated:
Larry Schweikhart wrote A Patriot's History of the United States, among other books. It is a history written from a very "Republican" point of view. Basically, the founders were awesome, virtually everyone else increased the size of government, and Reagan is a god. I found that it was very selective in that it focused on things large and small that fit into his narrative on our nation, while ignoring many of the things that didn't fit. I didn't like it much at all, but I struggled through the entire volume.
"The Bugle" is a podcast released from the "The Times" of London where Daily Show Correspondent John Oliver and British comedian Andy Zaltzmann lampoon the news as best they can, delivering a healthy dose of bull shit and bad puns along the way. Free in t-tunes. Worth every penny.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
March Maddness is ending Baby!
With the final match of the tournament ready to be played, I suppose it would be worth updating everyone on how I did with my COIN system.
In two words: not well. In the first round (and by that I mean the round of 64, not the bracket busters), I just went straight down the list and picked the higher cedes, with one or two exceptions. This actually worked OK; in the 2nd round I had 23/32 teams left. This may be a mere 72%, but you have to remember that I did not study for the exam and I will gladly take a C.
After that, I went with straight coin flippage. Things fell apart fast. I only had 6/16 for the sweet sixteen, only 3 of my teams were in the elite 8, and none of those made it to the final 4.
Interestingly, my West regional picks were excellent, even with the coin flips. Out of 15 possible slots I only missed 3, for an accuracy of 80%. My COIN picked Arizona to upset Duke. My worst region was the Southwest, where out of a possible 15 I only had 3 teams right (an accuracy of 20%), though I doubt I would have done much better if I had been left to make the picks using the power of my own considerably limited college basketball mind.
My dumbest pick with the coin flip? I had George Mason beating Ohio State, which even I knew had a very, very low probability of happening in real life. I think next year I may manually override the COIN if it makes such a boneheaded pick again. But as for the other picks I made, the way I follow basketball, I think I may as well leave it all to chance.
So, there you have it. And tomorrow we will have a new NCAA Men's Basketball Champion. Will I be watching?
No.
But, nevertheless, I wish to extend my congratulations to the team that remains standing after what is sure to be a battle for the ages, a veritable Waterloo. Only without guns (hopefully) and Cannons (definitely, you can be pretty sure of that) and horses. You know, that kind of stuff.
In two words: not well. In the first round (and by that I mean the round of 64, not the bracket busters), I just went straight down the list and picked the higher cedes, with one or two exceptions. This actually worked OK; in the 2nd round I had 23/32 teams left. This may be a mere 72%, but you have to remember that I did not study for the exam and I will gladly take a C.
After that, I went with straight coin flippage. Things fell apart fast. I only had 6/16 for the sweet sixteen, only 3 of my teams were in the elite 8, and none of those made it to the final 4.
Interestingly, my West regional picks were excellent, even with the coin flips. Out of 15 possible slots I only missed 3, for an accuracy of 80%. My COIN picked Arizona to upset Duke. My worst region was the Southwest, where out of a possible 15 I only had 3 teams right (an accuracy of 20%), though I doubt I would have done much better if I had been left to make the picks using the power of my own considerably limited college basketball mind.
My dumbest pick with the coin flip? I had George Mason beating Ohio State, which even I knew had a very, very low probability of happening in real life. I think next year I may manually override the COIN if it makes such a boneheaded pick again. But as for the other picks I made, the way I follow basketball, I think I may as well leave it all to chance.
So, there you have it. And tomorrow we will have a new NCAA Men's Basketball Champion. Will I be watching?
No.
But, nevertheless, I wish to extend my congratulations to the team that remains standing after what is sure to be a battle for the ages, a veritable Waterloo. Only without guns (hopefully) and Cannons (definitely, you can be pretty sure of that) and horses. You know, that kind of stuff.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
US Government Super Classico! The Democratic Starting 11
Not too many people were impressed with my Republican team sheet for the US Government Super Classico, but I know that a handful of you have been waiting expectantly to see who made the Democrat team. I will not disappoint you.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the starting 11 for the democratic party:
Formation: The 4-2-3-1 is widely used by French and Spanish sides. Enchanted by the effervescence of European sophistication that surrounds this flexible formation, the Democrats decide to go with it. Its European, ergo it must be good.
Keeper: Not caring about his political views, the Dems go with former (though I think he may be back now) Arsenal keeper Jens Lehman. You will remember that in my discussion of the position for the GOP team I noted that keepers have to be a little crazy. Lehman, known for his erratic behavior, more than fits the bill. Should be entertaining to watch! Those of you who watch soccer are probably getting a little chuckle right now; those of you who don't are probably just going "who the hell is this guy?". It's your loss.
Full Back (Left): Vice President Biden comes out of the hinterlands to lace up his boots and take the field at left full back. He will have to watch his mouth; the Croatian officiating team that will be "reffing" the match has been studying the finer points of the American language all night in the hotel bar.
Center Back (Left): Harry Reid. After giving such a brilliant defensive performance in 2010, not only saving Obamacare but also managing to cling to his congressional seat, this would appear to be his natural position.
Center Back (Right): Barbara Boxer. She just seems mean. She'll be fine here.
Full Back (Right): John Stewart. It's a little known fact that this most caustic and brilliant of comedians actually did play soccer at William and Mary, where he went to college, so placing him in this key position will be advantageous to the democrats. Unfortunately, he is also very, very short, so he will be useless in the air and on set pieces.
Defensive Midfielder (Left): Representing the wine swilling, tote back loving elite at NPR, Garrison Keillor makes an appearance at defensive midfielder in his flashy red boots. Hailed as America's current greatest story teller, Keillor is aging but can still string things together brilliantly. May bore some of the other players in the locker room with some of his renditions of old timey tunes, no matter how much he changes the lyrics.
Defensive Midfielder (Right): President Barack Obama. If his soccer bears any resemblance to his statesmanship, Obama will talk lots about scoring goals but will probably not score very many. Perhaps overly cautious, do not expect him to join in on the attack very much. A note to the manager: has a tendency to drift to the left. This bears watching.
Right Side Midfielder: Nancy Pelosi. Long accused of bending the truth, we're about to find out if she can bend it like Beckham.
Center Midfielder: Bill Clinton. If he's as good as weaseling his way through the GOP defense as he was at weaseling his way out of his many, many scandals, he will be brilliant as a Center midfielder. I would look for him to press up and almost be a defacto second striker, stealing the show. Disappointed with Obama, the Dems will give the captaincy to this sage of the left.
Left Side Midfielder: Howard Dean. "And Beck sends it forward to the Apple Pie....Oh, the pie has muffed it again, he's lost the ball. A truly dreadful game for Bachmann's Apple Pie, no where near up to his sparkling standard...its collected by Clinton...Dean is making a run and Clinton finds Dean! He sidesteps Limbaugh and Cheney takes aim with his fouling piece but....oh dear he's shot Beck in the knee! He's still standing though, but Dean is going to take this ball all the way to the Goal, YEAAAAAHHHHHH! Goal for Howard Dean and the Democrats!" Two cheap political jokes in one. Can't get that on the street for nickle. Here, you can get it for free.
Striker: Hearing that Jesus Christ was going to be in the line up for the GOP, the Dems cast about for their own divine figure as a counterweight. But they couldn't find one that wouldn't offend someone in our wide world, so they offered the striker spot to Sesame Street's much beloved and beleaguered Big Bird.
King of The Street in the 1980's Big Bird could have had it all. Humble, he was content with a movie deal, his face on some lunch boxes, and nice nest on The Street. But it all changed when Elmo and his gang started taking over in the 90's, and soon Big Bird was relegated practically to guest appearances on the show that once was his. Distraught, he squandered his fortune as he traveled the world, settling at last in the slums of Paris. It was there that he discovered soccer, playing day after day with France's disaffected youth. During the 2005 riots, he was rescued by Jack Ryan (the Harrison Ford incarnation, that is) who recognized the bird's talent and became his agent. He kept him out of soccer by paying Big Bird massive subsidies, waiting for the moment to arrive where he would be deployed as a pawn in a geo-political game that only he and a handful of other men fully understand. That moment is now.
So, there you have it. The lineups are set, the crowd is ready, and the ref blows his whistle. SUPER CLASSICO! Meanwhile, in a small town in the former Soviet Union....
Ladies and Gentlemen, the starting 11 for the democratic party:
Formation: The 4-2-3-1 is widely used by French and Spanish sides. Enchanted by the effervescence of European sophistication that surrounds this flexible formation, the Democrats decide to go with it. Its European, ergo it must be good.
 |
| 4-2-3-1 Formation |
Full Back (Left): Vice President Biden comes out of the hinterlands to lace up his boots and take the field at left full back. He will have to watch his mouth; the Croatian officiating team that will be "reffing" the match has been studying the finer points of the American language all night in the hotel bar.
Center Back (Left): Harry Reid. After giving such a brilliant defensive performance in 2010, not only saving Obamacare but also managing to cling to his congressional seat, this would appear to be his natural position.
Center Back (Right): Barbara Boxer. She just seems mean. She'll be fine here.
Full Back (Right): John Stewart. It's a little known fact that this most caustic and brilliant of comedians actually did play soccer at William and Mary, where he went to college, so placing him in this key position will be advantageous to the democrats. Unfortunately, he is also very, very short, so he will be useless in the air and on set pieces.
Defensive Midfielder (Left): Representing the wine swilling, tote back loving elite at NPR, Garrison Keillor makes an appearance at defensive midfielder in his flashy red boots. Hailed as America's current greatest story teller, Keillor is aging but can still string things together brilliantly. May bore some of the other players in the locker room with some of his renditions of old timey tunes, no matter how much he changes the lyrics.
Defensive Midfielder (Right): President Barack Obama. If his soccer bears any resemblance to his statesmanship, Obama will talk lots about scoring goals but will probably not score very many. Perhaps overly cautious, do not expect him to join in on the attack very much. A note to the manager: has a tendency to drift to the left. This bears watching.
Right Side Midfielder: Nancy Pelosi. Long accused of bending the truth, we're about to find out if she can bend it like Beckham.
Center Midfielder: Bill Clinton. If he's as good as weaseling his way through the GOP defense as he was at weaseling his way out of his many, many scandals, he will be brilliant as a Center midfielder. I would look for him to press up and almost be a defacto second striker, stealing the show. Disappointed with Obama, the Dems will give the captaincy to this sage of the left.
Left Side Midfielder: Howard Dean. "And Beck sends it forward to the Apple Pie....Oh, the pie has muffed it again, he's lost the ball. A truly dreadful game for Bachmann's Apple Pie, no where near up to his sparkling standard...its collected by Clinton...Dean is making a run and Clinton finds Dean! He sidesteps Limbaugh and Cheney takes aim with his fouling piece but....oh dear he's shot Beck in the knee! He's still standing though, but Dean is going to take this ball all the way to the Goal, YEAAAAAHHHHHH! Goal for Howard Dean and the Democrats!" Two cheap political jokes in one. Can't get that on the street for nickle. Here, you can get it for free.
Striker: Hearing that Jesus Christ was going to be in the line up for the GOP, the Dems cast about for their own divine figure as a counterweight. But they couldn't find one that wouldn't offend someone in our wide world, so they offered the striker spot to Sesame Street's much beloved and beleaguered Big Bird.
King of The Street in the 1980's Big Bird could have had it all. Humble, he was content with a movie deal, his face on some lunch boxes, and nice nest on The Street. But it all changed when Elmo and his gang started taking over in the 90's, and soon Big Bird was relegated practically to guest appearances on the show that once was his. Distraught, he squandered his fortune as he traveled the world, settling at last in the slums of Paris. It was there that he discovered soccer, playing day after day with France's disaffected youth. During the 2005 riots, he was rescued by Jack Ryan (the Harrison Ford incarnation, that is) who recognized the bird's talent and became his agent. He kept him out of soccer by paying Big Bird massive subsidies, waiting for the moment to arrive where he would be deployed as a pawn in a geo-political game that only he and a handful of other men fully understand. That moment is now.
So, there you have it. The lineups are set, the crowd is ready, and the ref blows his whistle. SUPER CLASSICO! Meanwhile, in a small town in the former Soviet Union....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)