I was a baseball fan before I was a football fan, first as a Pirate fan (listening to Bob Prince on the back porch on the green-and-white davenport while Frank rolled and smoked his Prince Albert cigarettes) and second as a second Senators fan (the team that went to Texas, not Minnesota). It took dating a woman who was based in Baltimore to turn me into an Oriole fan in the early-80s; three buck nights on the top right of Memorial's horseshoe, excellent nights of my life, whomever I was with. If *eter *ngelos* isn't my favorite villain to this day, that's more a testament to how little a damn I spend on baseball at all now, but I almost got fired: when *ngelos fired Jon Miller I sent an email to the Orioles begging *ngelos to please please please please please please please please please slump over; the Orioles contacted my boss, said I threatened *eter *ngelos*' life, and promised to prosecute if such emails didn't desist. OK, I wasn't almost fired; I was good-naturedly asked to knock it the fuck off and I knocked it the fuck off.
The Redskins were my puppy love. This game?
One of the better nights of my life.
Don't worry, this is my first and last Redskin-centric post: I don't give a damn about football, professional or NFL, beyond how the the owners will destroy the cash-cow that is the NFL because all their other businesses are so clusterfucked that clusterfucking the cash-cow is the only solution the greedy fucks can come up with (metaphor, yo), but bringing back this uniform after thirty years of wearing fucking white shirts and stoopid raspberry pants at home?
is almost to rube for. Jeebus, I love that uniform. There's a reason the columns to the left and right are the color they are.
Serendipitously, if unfortunately, I discovered just three hours after publishing this post that Ron Menchine, who called Senators games in the late 60s and early 70s, has died.
- New Liberals = Old Conservatives.
- Dumping Obama.
- Racist pig argues racist pigs aren't racist pigs.
- Eric Cantor couldn't pick Keynes out of a line-up.
- Rich calls for standard liberal hypocritical demagoguery.
- Breakfast club, part four.
- Two categories of American corporations.
- Magic spells for hubris.
- More MOCOpolitics.
- Even more MOCOpolitics.
- MOCOpolitics costs money.
- Crisis in Germantown!
- The book to come.
- Smart review of Freedom. I find myself thinking about buying it, the old need to know what others are talking about starting to need scratching. Dammit.
- UPDATE! 24.
- A good man is easy to kill.
- Summer kiss.
- UPDATE! Coming through is ear-candy.
I was a caring husband. I bought socks for my family.
My swarthy wife liked to wear these thick woolen socks that
up to her milky thighs.
I had a lover also. People could see me walking around each
evening carrying a walking stick.
My most vivid memory, looking back, is of a pink froth bubbling
out of my infant's mouth.
Not everything was going so well: one morning, malnourished
soldiers marched down our tiny street, bringing good news.
When good news arrives by mail, the cuckoo sang, tear up the
envelope. When good news arrives by e-mail, destroy the
When an old friend came by to reclaim an old wound, I said to
oldest son: Go dump daddy's ammo boxes into the fragrant
To reduce drag, some of my neighbors were diving headfirst
We were rich and then we were poor. A small dog or maybe
now pulls our family wagon.