3 weeks in limbo

Two weekends of travel, plus a 3 day celebration of my birthday last weekend, took me away from these efforts but I suppose now I'm back. What have I missed?

England destroyed by Australia (that is far too mild a term to describe what happened) in the Ashes.

Arsenal do nothing in the transfer market. Lather, rinse, repeat.

USA defeated by Mexico and referee. See above.

I'll quickly share my thoughts on each of these things:

Ravi Bopara should not be allowed to bat 3rd for England. What he did in the Fourth Test was so terrible, so wretched, so embarrassing, that it actually is beyond belief. When do you stop beating your head against a wall expecting it not hurt? What is worse about what he did was the ripple effect it had on the rest of the batsmen, forcing ever-desperate displays. If he plays in the Fifth test, write it off. His confidence is in ruins.

Arsenal--I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. I am to the point where I say, "Would you please just overpay for a decent centre-half so we can move on?" The angst of this summer is hurting the supporters. It's sickening, really. Not that I have any claim on what Wenger ought to do--by sickening I mean that it causes tension, stress, and feelings of unease that are translated by the mind into nausea and headaches. Stop making me sick, Arsene! I don't have health insurance!

A very different reaction from the USA v. Mexico match--white-hot anger. Why is it OK for opposing players to grab an injured player and try to drag him to his feet by his head? Why is it OK for an opposing player to sprint 40 yards and shove someone in the back at the endline? Why is it OK to throw debris, missiles, cups, and other nasty stuff at a visiting player? IF THE USA SUPPORTERS CONDUCTED THEMSELVES THIS WAY, FIFA WOULD BAN US. But when "they" do it, it's OK because it's "cultural." Oh, so you're saying that behaving like savages is part of their culture? Is that racist?

It's cowardly for FIFA to look the other way at the abuse that USA players have to endure. It's also disgusting. The USA will never be taken seriously, nor will the USA take the game seriously, until this stupid, childish, dimwitted double-standard is eliminated. The end.

Welcome back. I've missed you so.

Hmm. Where to begin?

With the thrashing the USA endured at the hands of Mexico? No, please.

With Contador basically saying that Lance Armstrong is a dick? Not if I can avoid it.

With KP being unfit for The Ashes? How could I miss him if he won't go away? Well, now he's gone. Hello, Ian Bell. Bell has struggled. Bell has shown impatience. Bell, if I may offer, sounds quite a bit like KP.

Then that leaves me with the Arsenal Football Club selling two players (one in attack, one in defence) for what appears to be around 40 million quid. Oh dear.

What would Arsene Wenger want to do with that much money? Right now, I have one thing to suggest: Even if you must overpay, get Hangeland from Fulham. Get him. It's imperative. Donkey Silvestre is not CB cover. NOT AT ALL. Never do that again, mmmkay? Get Hangeland. From what I hear, Tommy V. got hurt today. Of course. You sell Toure, and V. gets knocked out of the game. That's the Arsenal way.

I hated to see Kolo go, in one sense, because he's an Arsenal man and Gallas is not. But Gallas is better as of now, and this is an unsentimental business.

Wenger turned a massive profit on this transfer. I don't think that's enough. Just saying that it happened doesn't change the fact that the squad still needs some quality players in it. It's tempting to look at this moment as the barometer of just where the club sees itself. If some of this money is invested in two more quality players, it sees itself as a championship contender. If none of it is, at least in the summer, then it sees itself as scrambling for fourth and settling for that. It's really that simple. 40 million pounds is a lot of brass.

A giant bag of suck, A giant bag of greatness

And so it was just not meant to be.

If Watson had done it, it would have been the greatest thing in sport in my lifetime. Nothing I have known in any sport could have compared to it. And I suppose he knew that, too, and it overwhelmed him. So he blasted that second shot at 18 with all the delicate touch of a Bavarian butcher. And I felt it slip away then. I wanted him to do it so that I could say I witnessed something unthinkable. I was gutted when he couldn't do it. I can't even begin to imagine what he is feeling now.

It's difficult to even offer congratulations to Stewart Cink, who is a good bloke who once suffered a loss in a major that I thought would haunt him forever. Southern Hills had to eat away at him. He played much of the last 8 years like it did. I was convinced he would collapse because of that, and he didn't. He focused and did the business. I put it this way after it was over: Watson has 8 majors and would be considered one of the greatest ever if hadn't even played the weekend. But Stewart Cink? A guy that just couldn't get it done. Now that has changed, Southern Hills begone, and he is a major champion. That makes losing history a bit more tolerable. A bit.
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Then there's history of a different kind. England had not beaten Australia at Lord's since (get ready) 1934. And now they have, and in a dominating fashion so decidedly un-English that it boggles the mind. Strauss confidently declared. England's bowlers attacked early and despite the double-century pairing of Clarke and Haddin, took advantage of the new ball and took 4 wickets in the span of 75 overs, and then won the damn test by 115 runs! In the first innings, Anderson & Onions were dominant. In the second, it was Swanny and Freddy Flintoff in what will now become a legendary performance. Now that brave batting spell from the tail at Cardiff seems even more important.

And what's more, England can win The Ashes. Not bad. Not bad at all.

More of the same, in a good way

I just don't know what to think about England. Today was fraught with cheaply given wickets, paralysingly slow runs/overs ratios, and a 521 run lead at stumps. Doesn't it kill, when you see ridiculous batting for hours, then 181 runs in 31.2 overs, then tossing away two more wickets in the final 9 overs of the day? FFS. England.

There's only one question: How long do England wait tomorrow to declare? Can they get 79 runs in the morning? Damn those last two wickets. Really. If they can average 5 runs/over, it would be around 16 overs needed. That's assuming the tail can survive. (They batted roughly 4.4 today.)

Today was excruciating. Ravi and KP, having been chastened before, decided to start playing it conservative AT EXACTLY THE TIME THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING THE OPPOSITE. I'm sorry, it's pure hindsight, but when they ought to have been defensive, they were profligate, and when they needed to take risks, they were grinding. It was maddening. So when the two of them were (mercifully) dismissed, Colly, Prior, and Freddy combined for 145 (Freddy not out; the other two shitting the proverbial bed in the final 9 overs).

Strauss thought that the pitch was conducive so he chose not to enforce the follow-on after brilliant English bowling. Seriously--we can call it that; it was. I think he chose wisely so far, but England must get runs tomorrow if he chooses not to declare. This was dull cricket, but then again, it was more or less effective. It's against my nature to be critical of England when they're clinical, mostly because they never are.

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Adebayor is finally, and officially, gone. Thank Buddha. And no, he is not comparable to Anelka. Anelka was a footballer.

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It is not beyond reason that a near 60-year old man could win The Open. Think about that for a moment. Seriously, think about that.

If he does it--and I seriously believe he can, because he is a tough-minded bastard--it will be the greatest accomplishment in sport in my lifetime. I am struggling to come to grips with that thought. This man, who played in the longest shadow ever cast in golf, might win a major championship, THE major championship, at an age when most geezers are duffing it at the local muni. As follows is a post I wrote elsewhere; it sums up my feelings about Tom Watson:

I'm sick of hearing comparisons to Norman last year.

Does Greg Norman have 8 major titles?

Is Greg Norman one of the greatest links players ever?

Is Greg Norman known as one of the toughest, strong-minded golfers in history?

FUCK GREG NORMAN. He couldn't even take a shit as good as Watson can.

I hated Watson when I was a kid, because he was so arrogant (what I now understand to be confidence) and because he seemed to get the best of Jack (I grew up in a Golden Bear-supporting household). In fact, it started in 1977, when I was 10 years old and watched "The Duel in the Sun."

But over the years, I've come to not only respect but really be in awe of Watson. 5 Open Championships at five different courses? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? *And* he won at Pebble Beach and Augusta.

I watched him Thursday and I watched that incredible recovery on Friday (I seriously thought he was a footnote after 5 straight bogeys), and I watched every minute today. He can do this, because he doesn't have to "go for it" now. He is leading. He doesn't have to play risky golf to catch up. He still has the best swing in golf. Better than Els? Uh, yeah. I love watching that swing. No "torque" or attempt to murder the ball--just easy, compact, thoughtful, shot-making swings. And is there yet a better sand player alive? Holy crap did he make some incredible saves today.

It's his mind, see. His mind. He is as mentally tough a player as has ever lived. I saw that all day today.

So

YES HE CAN!

This a.m. watching him warm up, Curtis Strange was marveling at why TW would take his first swings with a long iron. I thought, "Shit, LOOK AT THE SWING!" There is no Fred Couples-esque chance for a back injury, there is no Eldrick-esque twisting of the knee; he's not a giant, he's not trying to finish high up behind his neck--it's the perfect swing.

That's it, isn't it? Did you see the video they showed of his swing over the course of 30 years (deep breath at even saying that) and how it didn't change at all? Nope. He's like the Ted Williams of golf. Same mechanics, same pre-strike routine. That speaks to his concentration and mental toughness, too. I always disliked him for that Keith Hernandez-like arrogance; I imagined him standing over the ball and thinking, "Heh heh, I'M TOM WATSON" and then hitting the ball perfectly.

The slo-mo videos they kept showing today of his ball striking was remarkable. I doubt the best players on earth of this generation get that kind of straight-on contact as much as he did today.

Sorry for going on and on--This guy is on my Mt. Rushmore of golf legends (with Hogan, Nelson, and Jack--space reserved for Eldrick) and he is there because of his performances at The Open, which is my favourite major.

Tomorrow could be really fun.

If you won't be needing that wicket...

This is a fun read.

Meh

I have two things to discuss. No, I have two things that suck that I must acknowledge.

HTF did England do what they did today? Of course, you can say "Because they're England" or make some ironic or sarcastic comment about how England will always fail. But that is not sufficient. Six bleeding wickets? It's just too much. It's just too painful if you support English cricket. That's all I can say.

And Adebayor wants to "take some time" to sort out his move to Eastlands?

Bah.

Ade, let me help you: YOU CANNOT PLAY FOR ARSENAL AGAIN. YOU BLEW IT. LEAVE. GO. NOW. FARE THEE WELL.

How could he f*** this up? Better yet, WHY?

Get out while the gettin' is good!

Adebayor is allegedly headed to Eastlands! Let it be, dear lord, let it be.

Now the question: What will happen to the better than 20 million quid headed to Ashburton Grove?

Does the manager get all of it? Any of it? Does he buy a striker or a holding midfielder? Does he get an experienced player for more money or buy another "promising youngster?"

The squad is actually pretty big. It's just young. There's talent. Some of it is world class, some of it looks like rubbish. But for sake of the argument, let's say there are currently these forwards/strikers available:
van Persie
Bendtner
Eduardo
Arshavin
Vela
and possibly Walcott

Jay Simpson has been given a squad number as well.

From what I've seen, IF this group can stay healthy, it's a very potent strike force with a nice mix of styles and abilities. There is pace, power, and guile. Bendtner and Vela need more matches to fulfil their potential, which I believe is abundant, but the others are ready. If you had six strikers, five of which are very important internationals for their countries, and the other one has featured on the wing for England, then in my unprofessional opinion, that's quite a collection.

Bendtner scores goals and has a good engine. And please remember he's only 21, and Vela is only 20.

So...
What I wish is that Wenger would go into the season with this group of forwards and spend whatever money he can on an experienced defensive midfielder. That's a wish; unfortunately, what I think will happen is that he doesn't get to spend this money, or he only gets a small bit of it, or he is told that he can have some of it in the January transfer window once we see how this squad performs.

Either way, now that I've typed this, I'm actually impressed with the group of strikers Wenger as assembled. WITHOUT Adebayor, the worthless git.

Nobody saw this coming.

How sweet.

Landon--in the future, when you decide to take on one of the most famous athletes ON THE ENTIRE PLANET, you might want to take a deep breath, count to 10, and call your agent.

That's my advice, and I'm a notorious hothead.


I said "hothead."

Once more unto the breach...

(Edit: The Ozzie press reaction. Very funny!)

I could not have imagined how the first test could have ended any way other than with a monumental destruction of the whole of English cricket. Ponting kept pouring it on during the first innings, centuries all around, before finally declaring. But why? With the weather bad, there had to be a chance that time would run out and they wouldn't even get a second innings. Hubris? It looks like it to me. He didn't want to win the test; he wanted to embarrass England.

But this is what England love--approaching a colossal failure, only to rally heroically as cries of "Come on, England!" are shouted desperately from the stands. England--completely unwilling to prod and defend for four days; only one way to go, full speed ahead, blood and thunder, the Crimean war, the Big Push...One idiotic swipe at the ball after another, wickets falling like mad, callow Ozzie bowlers made to look like legends--what the hell?

I wasn't able to follow Sunday's action until it looked far beyond England's reach to salvage a draw. Then Paul Collingwood stood up and decided to play some very boring cricket, nearly SIX HOURS worth. Well done, sir. Very not-English. Very pragmatic. Until, six runs down and 11.3 overs left, he lost his wicket. And who was left? Monty Freaking Panesar. And yes, he and James Anderson not only caught and passed the Aussies run total, they batted until the end and denied Ponting the chance to do anything else.

England were horrible, and didn't lose. You have to blame Ponting as much as credit Collingwood. One, for letting the first innings drag on and on, and two, for his strange bowler selection during the final overs. I'm certainly no expert on the sport but he had no answer for England.

I doubt if England can win back the Ashes, but this stand alone was brilliant simply because I can't imagine how disappointed the knuckle-draggers must feel today.

Consistent, at the least

As I type this, Oz are 217 for 1. England finished their 1st innings at 435 all out. Broad managed a stunning 19, and poor ol' Monty a 4. Kaitch and Ponting are currently each working on centuries. Good lord, England.
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Big Boys Save the Day

We watched the USA B-team labour against Honduras last night, needing a spark from subs who had played in the Confederations Cup. Yes, I know it's shocking, but Bradley actually used all three of his substitutions, and to great effect. Feilhaber and Davies played very well once they were introduced, and Kenny Cooper provided fresh legs for an obviously winded Brian Ching. Good choices, good results; way to go, Bob!

My observations (This saves me from having to write a narrative, which I'm not in the mood for):
There is good and bad in the B squad, but this is a nice chance to develop players that are going to have to support the 2010 qualifying campaign.
Troy Perkins looks quite good, cutting down the angle on one breakaway, saving a point blank shot, good distribution and showed he knows when to come off his line and when to stay back.

Great to see Cherundolo back. He played the full 90 and kept the squad out of trouble with his tackling and hard work. And when the subs came on in the 64th minute, he moved forward and got in on the attack play. Having him healthy, again, gives Bradley options.

Same for Brian Ching--Again, one of the A squad players made a difference. You could see how he would have helped out in the Confederations Cup had he been healthy. He might not be a big forward by world standards, but at 6'1" and 200 lbs. he provides a big target for the USA. He participated in the build-up to the first goal and was clinical finishing off the second. If he stays healthy and if Jozy can get more club matches, I like our attacking chances in the upcoming qualifiers. Which leads to...

Charlie Davies. He immediately changed the game and you could just sense that a goal was coming. His pace is deadly and he's a real footballer, not a one-trick pony like Cobi Jones. I'd like to see Bradley use him as a winger instead of a forward, because he can absolutely terrorise fullbacks with his speed. However, I was also impressed with the way he found space in the middle and held the ball up for Quaranta's goal, and his pass was perfectly weighted. Touch? From an American?

Benny Feilhaber's progression as a complete midfielder has been fun to watch. He can defend or attack, he passes very well, and has played the role of impact sub very well. I don't see him starting, considering who is in front of him, but if Bradley needed him due to injury or suspension, I think we'd all feel comfortable with Feilhaber in there.

I liked the work of the B squad guys, even if they did give away possession too often, which basically makes them Americans. Adu showed some really nice touch when he made quick passes, but when he fools around with the ball he is easily dispossessed and makes mistakes. Play quick and direct and he can be an asset. I'd like to have him on the wing--he's just too small to play forward against real footballing nations. Beckerman was great--lots of good tackling, pretty good distribution, and good at breaking up the Honduran attack. Robbie Rogers made a lot of good runs up the left side. He needs to work on what to do once he's beat his man to the corner flag, though.

Lastly, big ups to Quaranta for both the goal and simply making it back into the side and making the most of the opportunity. The goal was beautiful and so rare from the USA. I like to see players take their chances without hesitation and he read that ball from Davies perfectly. Good for him.

So there we have it. A nice victory over a side that sent its best players (several of whom play in Europe) sets up an easy one against Haiti. Might we get to see Kenny Cooper start?

Beyond the boundary

I confess even more my gross Anglophilia: I've been waiting for The Ashes.
Day 1: England win the toss and choose to bat.
After 90 overs: England 336 - 7.
This would seem to put Oz ahead. Some say by a little, some say they won the day. What's bad is the way Kevin Pietersen went down--he bonked the ball off his HEAD. Brilliant.

He seems to think that England can get to 400 tomorrow. We'll see. Today was filled with wild back-and-forth swings. I think at one point, England were 90 for 3. Then KP and Collingwood combined for a 138 run fourth wicket, and England were back. When it was 327 for 5 with only 4 overs to go, it looked like a fantastic day. Wrong, per usual. This is England, after all. Prior and Freddy managed to go out in those four.

The Guardian's Ashes Coverage
The ECB's Ashes Site
BBC English Cricket

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Nat's Landing

USA play a country with no government tonight. Honduras gave us a tough match last time, possibly far tougher than it should have been. Let's hope the JV squad can handle the early going.

I was asleep at the wheel when Oguchi Onyewu signed for Milan. Let me say that again: OGUCHI ONYEWU SIGNED FOR MILAN. I hope he has a clear understanding of what it means to play defence for that club, and what it means to go play in a country where hooting monkey noises at black players is considered polite behaviour, instead of, oh, let's say being hit with a flair or a dart. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud and excited for him, but Serie A is the ugliest of the big Uefa leagues.

In other news, Dick Cheney won't go away either

This is not the news I wanted to hear. This jerk played like garbage last season, acting like he wanted to get sent off during the CL semis and generally being worthless despite his huge raise.

If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't be criticising him like I am. He whinged, he dove, he did everything other than stay onside and try to score. And unfortunately, that was the case most of the season. He got his money, and he essentially slipped into a comfort zone. He looked like a greedy and spoilt footballer.

Now Wenger's unmatched loyalty looks to ruin what many Arsenal supporters had hoped would be the sale that financed at least one or maybe even two squad-strengthening purchases. Where is the classy, holding midfielder? Where is a REAL goal scorer? We're to pin our hopes on the fragile health of Eduardo? I don't have any expectations that he'll figure in even 20 matches. Rosicky? No, probably not him, either.

I'm not one of those plastic Arsenal supporters who thinks Wenger is past it or doesn't know what he's doing anymore. I've posted before that I fully understand the constraints within which he must operate. But knowing that, why not get maximum value for a player who displayed such a terrible attitude last season when the club needed him more than ever? Are we to believe that there isn't a player in the world who could do what Adebayor did last season for less than 80,000 quid a week? I'd as soon start Carlos Vela up front--at least he gives that Tevez-esque headless chicken effort. EFFORT. That was severely lacking from Adebayor.

The Antonio Gramsci Kiss of Death: Still Going Strong!

A. Murray walked out on the court a jumble of nerves, played a tentative first set in which he was broken to finish it. He was playing a better opponent than Wawrenka, and he couldn't afford that misstep.

So he lost in 4 sets.

I think it was the moment that got to him. He's a better player than RodDick, he has a better game. I hope he can right himself and win a major title soon. The window closes quickly these days.

The unforced errors have to go. The tendency to be too cute has to go. He still needs to get stronger.

I think Fedderer has it now.

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Mancs Take the Mickey

What does Ol' Red Nose see in Michael Owen? What does he hope for? This is bizarre. Owen is past it at age 29. Is he? Is this some kind of trick? Does it have something to do with hating Liverpool?

Still no word on any other Arsenal moves. They've signed the kids to some extensions. That's lovely.

He didn't even use the word "prat"

Oh no. This is really unfortunate.

Landon...Landon...what were you thinking? Well, you weren't. I know you're probably justified in this feeling, especially when we consider that it was your captain's armband that he took. But this makes you look petty and spoiled.

Did anyone outside of the LA changing room need to know this? No. It's not just that, but we could have predicted this anyway. He was getting paid a ridiculous amount of money, so it wasn't the money he craved. He probably figured out that he could still play football at a high level after recovering from his injuries and Milan offered him that opportunity. I'm not saying that's what he should have done. I'm saying that he is very competitive and it doesn't take the most devoted football fan to know that MLS wasn't going to satisfy that part of him.

So now all you have is the expectation that when Beckham comes back, somebody is going to have to sort out this mess. My guess is, it won't be Landon Donovan offering an apology.
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Cool Runnings in the SW19

I am very excited about the prospects of tomorrow's semifinals at the All England Club. I think Tommy Haas will make Roger work for it, and I think A. Murray will give a proper beat down to A. RodDick. What Amanda Moore saw in that guy, I'll never know. Once again, he turned into a whinging little bitch during yesterday's match and shot his mouth off to the chair umpire. What does that accomplish? Another Donovan-esque outburst that would have been better left unsaid, that's what. Murray needs to make quick work of this jerk and get ready for Sunday. I don't think he'll have too much trouble doing that. In case you need the link, here's The Guardian's Wimbledon site.

Sorry but this doesn't seem very sporting

Jeremy Plonk's column about Jess Jackson's anti-synthetic surface stance is both frustrating and very insightful. Jackson offers that "dirt horses" don't like to run on the plastic, period. He seems to be saying that Curlin shouldn't have run on the surface at the Breeder's last year, and as such he doesn't want to run Rachel Alexandra there. It seems like a facile argument at best and I'll agree with Plonk that at worst, it's an excuse not to race against Zenyatta.

For an owner who made Curlin "the world's horse" and fought to enter Rachel in the Preakness, doesn't this strike you as more than a little bit disingenuous? Jackson set racing on its head when he won the Preakness with a filly. If she raced Zenyatta and lost, would her colts (sired by Curlin!) be less valuable? If you say that some horses like certain surfaces and not others, does that somehow mean that they won't still earn millions running on dirt? As a breeder, he's ALREADY admitting that Curlin's offspring stand a good chance of not taking to the polytrack. This guy may be a great sportsman who loves racing and loves horses, but this seems to me to be a little bit more like showing your hand before the bets are down. It would be more shrewd to say that Curlin was tired after a long two years.

Not getting to see these two fillies, who have proven that they're not just the best of their gender but the best horses in the country period, race one another is cheating us. I don't appreciate it. I hope he has a change of heart.

What would you do for a Klondike bar?

At 2-0, I still didn't believe. Did you know that that's what it means to be a supporter of USA football? That's it. You say, well, no, we'll never win a damned thing. We never have, and we never will. And people make all kinds of excuses, and offer consolation and say, "You're not Brasil; you did the best you could do" and all manner of things. I've heard it forever.

Our boys "got credit" for just putting on their shoes correctly in 1990. In '94, they got plenty of credit for backing into the elimination rounds (and for helping Andres Escobar to his final reward). In 2002, we got pats on the head after a Uefa ref was somehow allowed to do our game against a Uefa team and he refused to call a penalty on the world's second most obvious handball (world's worst: see Stephanie Henchoz in the FA Cup final v. Arsenal). I'm so TIRED of hearing that.

I'm not going to recap the game or give player ratings--I don't believe that anything that could be said along those lines would deal with the issues we as USA supporters face. Our two goals were CLASS and they were taken by our two most incisive goal scorers. Dempsey and Donovan--it's nice when your stars do what they're supposed to do. It's almost like we're a REAL FOOTBALLING NATION, isn't it?

No, seriously--In big games, the big stars do big things for most countries. That's what is supposed to happen. Do big games make stars? I don't think so. I think that great players (GREAT) rise to the occasion because in football, more so than in any other sport, individual talent can change games. Dispute that? Did you see Kaka today? What in the world was going on?

So the consolation prize again--Landon Donovan finally had a big tournament. Clint Dempsey had a big tournament. Captain Carlos came back from injury and had two great games. Gooch and DeMerit and Spector were so good...mostly. Clarke was good--pretty much. Mike Bradley would have helped today, he was important--when he wasn't going headless chicken. Tim Howard was truly great. He is one of the great keepers on earth.

What does that offer us? That we manage to qualify for 2010? These guys aren't going to play in the Gold Cup, so that's out. This was our chance. I mean, we aren't going to win the World Cup next year. (We aren't. Be honest.) So what is our excuse, and what is the consolation? Damn it.

We are a nation of 300 million people. We're third, I think, behind China and India. There are many immigrants here from footballing nations. Yeah, I could be pointing the finger at you, 'Jesse' Rossi. But I'm not. Don't care. Freddy Adu could be playing for Ghana right now and it wouldn't have made any difference. The reason is because we don't have the right mindset.

What changed about Spain was that they won the Uefa Championship and they were never again the underachieving-yet-talented side that couldn't win. No, suddenly, they were the f***ing Champions of Europe.

Until you win something, you're nothing but the team that didn't win anything. I hate pats on the head, and consolation. 2 goals up by the half and I couldn't say, "We have won this." Even if it were against Brasil, the truth is, we don't know how to win. I said this before, but why is it that our boys are too "honest" to kill off a game?

I could slag the tactics but I really don't think it's about the tactics. I think it's about knowing, once you've won, how to win again and again. Germany, Brasil, Italy--they know. France sort-of knows. I'll make the case that if the Frogs hadn't won Euro '84, they NEVER would have won the 1998 World Cup or Euro 2000. I say that because the kids who grew up to win those trophies watched players like Tigana and Platini win a trophy. It gets ingrained in the psyche--you can win. I bet Ecuadorians still think they can win. Damn Argentina think they can win. And the biggest joke of them all, England STILL think they can win something.

Holland won one title, too. That brilliant side from '88--look at the names. Koeman, Gullit, van Basten, Rijkaard. The influence is so strong, 20 years on. Every tournament since, people at least give the Dutch a fighting chance. They play how they play, and nobody says, "Oh eff the Dutch, they'll never win" because you can't say never about a country that has won Uefa. (I'm of the opinion that winning the Euro title is harder than winning the World Cup.)

So that's all I can take from what happened today. I don't want consolation because I'm inconsolable. All the USA is now, is all we were a month ago. We had a chance to become some sort of winners today, and we didn't do it. We didn't close the deal. And going into the 2010 World cup, we still won't know how to do that.

Simply holding aloft a trophy, and having the confetti fall, and the fireworks go off, and having a winner's medal around your neck, makes all the difference. You have to win something sometime. The USA still hasn't.

Good Old Fashioned Criticism Pays Off!

Ah. Yes. Well. I see. I'll be off, then.

Two clean sheet victories, five goals--that sounds OK, doesn't it? Sounds fine.

You know all the numbers, don't you? USA: Only 1 victory ever against a top-ranked team. 0 for the previous 6. Spain: 35 match unbeaten run. 25 clean sheets in that time. 15 consecutive victories. No goals conceded at this tournament. Blah blah blah. Reigning Uefa Champions.

The USA just did something that cannot be described any way but in terms like "shocking," "stunning," "unbelievable." How shocking?

The winning goal was scored by a 19-year old who barely played for his club last season. Think about that for a moment. Big game? Big stage? Bright lights? I supposed Altidore didn't know to be intimidated, at least not by Capdevila. Capdevila is ostensibly Jozy's team mate at Villarreal, although Jozy only got into what, 6 matches or something silly like that?

Ricardo Clark morphed in Claude Makelele, snapping at the Spanish midfielders and breaking up everything that came his way. Landon Donovan drove the team forward like Andrei Arshavin, dominating the midfield play, keeping possession, tracking back and defending (at one point, he HEADED THE BALL OUT OF THE BOX AND I AM NOT MAKING THAT UP). He was brilliant. Yes, Landon Donovan was brilliant in a big game.

The centrebacks--I cannot say enough about them. While Tim Howard kept hauling the team out of the fire with brilliant saves, in general the tandem of Onyewu and DeMerit made his job much easier than it could have been, considering the opposition. Onyewu never put a foot wrong, never, not once in this match. I realised just now that by the end I was actually spoilt by his effort. DeMerit worked just as hard and even pulled out a few Italian-style dirty tricks--his arm-pull on Ramos prompted him to laugh and pat the Spaniard on the head. Was this an AMERICAN defender? Goodness. He and Gooch could be good for years to come if IF yesterday was any example of how they work together. Meanwhile, Howard's save from a David Villa scramble might have been the play of the match. It was classic Tim, cat-like reflexes in full effect. Yet for this match, it was just as much about his positioning and distribution as his athleticism.

Bocanegra and Spector certainly did their part. Spector isn't going to stun anybody with his overlapping runs or on-the-ball wizardry, but he is going to defend and kick the ball into row X when necessary. He's matured considerably since his ManU days and should be a fixture at fullback. As for the Captain--it was good to have him in there. He is a leader, he is a bit of a jerk, he's combative, and he'll get stuck in whenever needed. I saw him constantly working to organise the defence and talk to the rest of the squad. This is the difference between Charlie and Donovan as captains--BlackMouth is a man. Not knocking Landon, but what we saw yesterday was the value of an experienced leader wearing the armband.

Clint Dempsey looked spent much of the time, but he did work much harder than in previous matches to help out in defence. I'm not a big fan of his drifting inside when the team so obviously lacks width in attack--BUT I won't slag him since he assisted on Jozy's goal and took his chance late like a real poacher. Bradley seems to want to play him up front late--but if you think he's better in attack than in midfield, why wait? Feilhaber can do the business wide left. Or put speed merchant Charlie Davies on the wing and let Dempsey start up front. I love the pressure Davies provides--he can fly and he looks like more of a footballer than Cobi Jones ever was.

Davies' early overhead kick definitely set the tone for the USA. They were SO MUCH more aggressive than they had been in any of their recent matches. They were quick and decisive and took their chances rather than the hopeless dithering that seemed to have become a trademark.

OK--so this was great and damned-near perfect. I don't want to pick a nit, but some of the flaws in this team persisted. The biggest thing is that Bradley chases far too much. Our players don't defend an area and then hand their man off to the next person, which causes far too much open space and gives the opposing team big lanes in which to either run or pass. Maybe if Iniesta was in this match, the score would have been different because he would have taken better advantage of the headless chicken running and collapsing lines. The USA desperately needs to stay organised in defence and hold their shape along both the midfield and the back line. Don't chase the play so much, boys. That leads to cards and dumb fouls outside the area. (Although, to be fair, it looks as though they're getting a red card no matter what they do, so I suppose they should get their money's worth.)

A little sensible time-killing late in matches would help, as would taking the ball to the flag and earning a corner kick. That kind of stuff is what professionals do without really thinking about it. Our boys are just a little too sincere to do that, I guess.

I would like to give respect to Bradley for going to a 442 and using Davies in the last two matches. This needs to continue. Playing that diamond-type midfield with Donovan at the top and Clark at the bottom does everything it should--Donovan can be a playmaker and nuisance, Clark can break up the opposition's passes and provide cover for the back line. When you have enough goal scorers (Altidore, Davies, Dempsey, Donovan, Bradley), you can afford to play a guy like Clark, and credit to Bob for recognising that and sticking with it.

I was worried that he waited a bit too long to use his subs, and the team started to look tired, dead legged, in fact. This was when Howard and Gooch were having everything in the world thrown at them by the Spanish attack. I was really scared that Mata was going to skin somebody alive in the last 15 minutes.

And that is ALL I have to criticise after this win. This win. They do need to build off this. If they don't, the win becomes less important, though not any less signifcant. The USA just did something that 35 previous sides could not do, and that's beat the most gifted international side of a generation. That they did it in a major tournament, on foreign soil, makes it even more impressive--and shocking, and stunning, and unbelievable.

The Beautiful Game, Or Not

I've had the misfortune of watching the USA men's football team come up against Italy and Brasil in the Confederations Cup. I didn't see much of anything I liked, not play and definitely not tactics. The heady days of 2002 are clearly gone, making me wonder just how special that particular group was. Led by Euro-based players and supported by some MLS "stars," Sam's Army stunned Portugal in the opener, fought the hosts South Korea to a draw, and made it through to the knockout stage where they punished hermanito Mexico and were a pitiable display by a Uefa ref from the semi-finals. There was speed (Donovan, Beasley), technical prowess (O'Brien), strength at the back (Sanneh), and genuine goal-scoring ability (McBride, Mathis). At the time, I think I was loathe to praise Eddie Lewis, but he was a very good crosser and makes any winger on the current team sheet look like a Sunday Pub leaguer.

Damn. So many of the promising players that have come along since then (Kyle Martino, Bobby Convey, Freddy Adu) have turned out to be busts that there haven't been any to replace those who've aged out. McBride, O'Brien, Mathis, Wolff--where is their current equivalent? Not among this bunch, believe me.

The Uefa players from 2002 played like they knew what they were doing. They could keep possession, hold up play, track back, get stuck in when needed, score in the air or from distance or poach a goal...In short, they developed their skills at the highest level, and they led the USA.

1998 was embarassing; 2006 was worse. Everyone said that Bruce Arena had to go. His time had passed and the USA needed a fresh approach. Now I see that the fresh approach is to give the ball away carelessly, play a lone striker, and killed on counter attacks.

Bob Bradley is in his first big tournament. His squad is playing like it's their first big one as well, despite years of international experience among some of the players. Those players should be providing leadership but clearly aren't. What I've seen, and what I don't like:

Landon Donovan is NOT team captain material. I've never believed that it's possible for a captain to lead from the front. Midfielders and defenders can see more of the pitch and provide inspiration and organisation. Donovan is more or less a striker or possibly a playmaker. But that's the least of his problems. His weakness is that he is frail, both mentally and physically. He is the size of Leo Messi and that's where the comparison with the Argentine ends. Donovan could not make it in Europe--not even in the Bundesliga. It's not like he was playing for ManU or Milan or Real Madrid. He failed. It was too hard for him. That is simply not the kind of player who is given the honour of the captaincy. His frailty in South Africa is reflected in the team he supposedly leads.

Bradley's insistence on playing a lone striker is a complete failure. The USA lacks a real target man up front (don't give me Altidore; I'm talking about a Drogba type) and punch from the midfield to support him. Their best hope would have been to play a diamond midfield with Donovan on top, just behind two forwards, two wing players, and a holding midfielder at the bottom. The USA gives up goals like my ex- gives up her body to drunken frat boys; knowing that, Bradley should have his fullbacks stay at home and leave the counter attacks to the front 6. The lack of composure and the nervousness says to me that Bradley didn't give the team the sort of instruction it needed to feel comfortable and confident. This was certainly evident against Brasil from the very beginning of the match.

What is the strength of the team? What is the character? I don't see anything definitive as of now. If losing Brian Ching means no goals from open play, then nothing done in the last 15 years to develop young players has had any effect on the national game. And if that's the case, then an all hands to the pumps, Sam Allardyce game plan should be Bradley's first, second, and third options. In fact, as unappealing as that might be, it might make the most sense even if Ching is healthy because the best players on the side right now are in defence (take that for what it's worth). Jon Spector and Onyewu could anchor a tough, defensive-minded XI, and it's possible that Jay DeMerit, with proper instruction and midfield cover, could handle the other CB position.

I don't know if there is potential among this bunch of bottlers. Everyone from the manager down should examine what it means to represent his country and decide if he has the stomach to take on the best in the world. Anyone who can't give a serious account for himself should step aside. And those responsible for player development should consider what this kind of play means.

Le Weekend

For reasons I do not care to disclose, this weekend was shaping up to be horrible. Per the usual, I'm broke. (It happens when your rent suddenly and unexpectedly doubles and you decide to get the spiffy cable package because, well, because if you didn't, you'd go fucking insane with your sleepless nights and fear of the vacuum of silence.) So what was I going to do?

If my focus here from now on will probably be sport and cooking, then Friday was neither one nor the other. I knew that I wanted to wager on the Belmont, I knew that I was going to watch the Magic/Lakers game on Sunday, I knew that I was going to the NOLA Jesters game Saturday night, and I knew I was going to put in at least a cameo at Lisa's birthday bash Sunday afternoon. That is a considerable amount of dough for a broke man.

Friday I did nothing. End of.

Saturday--I will confess, I started drinking at about 9 something in the blessed a.m. I'm sorry for that. I know it is not generally accepted, nor a good idea, to do such a thing, but just understand that there was a big bowling ball headed at me, and I was the pin, and I didn't want to feel the impact. I got to see a bit of the Iran-North Korea "Irony Bowl" World Cup qualifier (something not seen since the 1998 US group featuring "the facists, the ethnic cleansers, and the fundamentalists"), I ignored the Safina French Open final (made me long for the days of the Swiss Miss because, uh, those gals were a bit tought to watch). FSU lost to Arkansas in the CWS Super Regional. Hillbillies everywhere rejoiced and had sex with a cousin to celebrate.

The focus of the day was the Belmont. I play the horses. I like it. I like it more than boxing. OK, I'm not gonna lie any more, I love horse racing. It is a mental exercise unlike anything else I know, including Civ. It is tied with cooking as the thing I really, really freaking love. I love the track, I love the study, I love sharps, I love wise guys, smart money, the Daily Racing Form, exotics, longshots, Emma Jane, a girl in New Orleans I won't name but she was a placing judge at the Fair Grounds, trainers, jockeys, writers, the two guys in the paddock who run the oyster bar...

When the Fair Grounds season ends, I feel vorklempt. I hate it. I want to watch ponies all year long. In my long gone consulting days, they put me in a hotel room overlooking Turfway Park. Before that assignment, they had sent me to Keeneland--I mean, Lexington. I drank with incredibly charming Oirish grooms (and the name grooms hides the fact that they were actually very cute girls) and dreamed of the final turn at the Bluegrass...

The Belmont, I have suddenly decided, is the real deal Triple Crown race. The distance requires a smart jock, bloodline, guts, and Woody Stephens as your trainer. Since Woody is dead, you see what you need. I love the Belmont. I hate the Kentucky Derby. I hate a field of 20 horses and jocks trying to kill each other. I hate boneheads ruining the odds. The Preakness--well, really, two weeks after the Derby? Not in this day and age. Or even just in this day. Or age.

The Belmont has become the "race of the longshot." But in my opinion, it's the "race where sharps can make some dough because a lot of dopes will bet on a potential Triple Crown winner."

When I saw the field and the post positions, I said, "Bah, I have lost many dollars on the previous TC races, I will just bet one horse, but if I were going to bet many horses, I would bet the two Birds plus Dunkirk." (OK, everybody says this in retrospect, but I actually have proof on a messageboard I post to regularly.) I knew, just like I knew in the Breeder's Classic, what horse would win. No matter what I read, I settled on Summer Bird. Friesan Fire had kicked my ass hard two races in a row. So who to bet? Who was the "invader" who would ruin the party?

How about MTB's half brother? How about a jock who had a serious fucking axe to grind, who had to listen for a year how he once again ruined a Triple Crown runner? How about a rookie trainer who had studied under some of Louisiana's best? Yeah.

I said after the Preakness that I would bet an unknown horse with a seasoned jock because that's who wins the Belmont.

Well, I didn't hit the damn tri ($295) because I didn't bet it because I didn't think I had enough money because I was going to the footie match and Lisa's party. Imagine. I didn't make a 12 dollar bet because of that, a 12 dollar bet that would have given me back 270 bucks. Oh. That hurts. Ouch. Kick me in the nards.

I did bet Summer Bird ONE ACROSS. Yeah! I did manage to turn 3 bucks into 20 thanks to that wisdom.

I told everyone I worked with "the two birds with Dunkirk."

Yeah, I'm smart. When I'm rich, I'll be smarter.

La Masia

I am happy that ManU lost. It puzzles me, I must admit, exactly how it happened. I saw them come very close to scoring an opening goal, at 9 minutes I asked Bill "Has Eto'o even touched the ball?," and a few seconds later Iniesta fed him at the edge of the box and after one move, the ball was in the net and even if it had not, there would have been a penalty because somebody slid in and tried to break both of Samuel's legs--after the shot was past Van der Sar!

It was literally "just like that." And from that moment, something in ManU's demeanor changed. Barça had acres of space to play "OLÉ!" football. The tight marking and smothering midfield that choked Arsenal to death, combined with the relentless pressure from Rooney, Crissie, and Park went missing. I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. It wasn't as though both sides were playing attacking football; it was that ManU were doing NOTHING.

Messi's goal wasn't brilliant. I mean, the technique was class, and that he took the chance and hit the net was professional, but let's be honest: Messi is a little man, and little men don't soar to the sky and blast headers in the 6 yard box. He was alone. No Vidic, no Ferdinand, no Donkey O'Shea, and certainly not Evra, a.k.a THE MAN.

What was I watching? Dreams of the Quintuple (or in the case of Crissie, the Cuntuple) reduced to a league title and the Carling Cup, that's what. Ferg's mercenaries either weren't capable of doing the business at hand, or they simply couldn't be arsed. They certainly were against Arsenal.

I suppose it could be chalked up to confidence. That doesn't seem likely but it could be. Wouldn't most clubs be confident against no-hopers like Adebayor, Diaby and Silvestre? But against the men of Barça, the early goal seemed to make the Mancs tentative, both in defence and attack. I'm sure the hairdryer was on full blast at the half, because they came out and at least gave some appearance of closing down space. Anderson, who had been invisible, was replaced by the king of the headless chickens, Tevez. Work rate, the good old English characteristic, would carry the day! Come on lads, get stuck in! Thus the introduction of Scholes, whose job it was to cripple anyone in a blue and red shirt. Crissie did her part with a few choice thrown elbows, too.

And it did absolutely nothing to Barcelona. It seemed to anger Puyol, who started doing his usual bizarre antics, and Xavi, who got in Crissie's face after a particularly stupid foul.

Valdes did his part when asked, but he rarely was. The back line was not challenged much, mostly because the six players in front of them (and the excellent Keita when he came on) were simply that dominant. Silvinho and Puyol don't have to do the job that English fullbacks do--not in the way you might think. The "hoof it up the wing and make an overlapping run" method wasn't employed. They did get forward some, but when you have Messi and Henry, what do you need with opening up your flanks to counter attacks?

In the end, the Mancs were meek. What joy! What glory! I danced the schadenfreude polka at The Bulldog with a crowd of celebrating Catalans. If I can't watch Arsenal win, then watching ManU or Chelsea lose is absolutely the next best thing. (Special thanks to The Bulldog for "free pint glass" day, because I could always use a few more.)

Now a word about Arsenal...
Today's Guardian has a well-intentioned column about the perceived similarities between Arsenal and Barça, both in playing style and long-term club development. It's utter rubbish. While it's true that the Catalans' academy has produced a large number of players, the difference is that those players don't immediately bolt for another club when they want bigger wages, and that their club has the resources to buy some of the top players in the world to balance out the side. How much money do Barcelona have? Enough that they donated their shirt sponsorship to Unicef. I'm waiting for WWF or Save the Children to show up on Arsenal's shirt. Yes, of course.

Rather than go player by player on the Arsenal team sheet and say how each of them wouldn't even make the Barcelona reserves, I'll just say that beyond Arshavin, Fabregas, and possibly Van Persie, not one of the Arsenal players is good enough. Diaby's every touch is negative, he sucks the life out of the movement of the team. Watching his performance v. United compared to the control and vision of the Barça midfield was shocking. Adebayor's worthless, "I'm trying to get sent off here, ref!" performance against ManU would never be tolerated in Barcelona. There's no sense in comparing the two clubs, much less the two groups of players.

Arsenal seem like a collection of individuals rather than a team, and I don't simply mean because of their attitudes. I mean, it seems as though it's just a random collection of players with no scheme in mind as to what they're supposed to be doing. What is Vela's role? What is Ramsey's? What does Djourou do? Eboue? Nasri?

Couldn't Vela be the Tevez at the Grove? Or, rather, could he? Arsenal are unsettled right now and that more than anything else is likely fueling the discontent coming from the fans. Wenger has been buying players for years who don't seem to do anything or don't seem to have a place. If you have long-term absences due to injury, then these players should be capable of providing cover. If you have multiple injuries at one position, then the same should apply. How is it that Vela isn't good enough to cover for all the injured strikers at Arsenal? Why couldn't Nasri step in for Fabregas?

Don't buy players who can't play, there's an idea. If they're developing, then let them develop. If you need cover, buy a few competent, experienced Premiership players (NOT SILVESTRE!) who can step in and play with confidence.

Arsenal are not like Barcelona. Full stop.

Bardolph

"his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames o' fire: and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue and sometimes red"

My football club is Arsenal FC. How this came to be, I can't precisely say, other than when Bruce Rioch was the manager, I picked Arsenal out of the table that was printed in the Atlanta paper. They were not a great side at that moment. I didn't know anything about them other than that was the coolest name of the names I saw, and I hated Manchester United. I knew I hated ManU because I don't like bullies and I don't like big teams that spend their way to titles and I don't like teams that attract glory-hunting daytrippers.

I chose Arsenal. I didn't know about Herbert Chapman or Highbury or Dial Square or Liam Brady or George Graham or Bertie Mee. I didn't know Tony Adams or Michael Thomas or Rocky Rocastle or Paul Merson. I just liked the name.

The next season, Arsenal hired Arsene Wenger as manager. By this time, I knew who Ian Wright was.

Arsenal won the double. Arsenal made it to the Uefa Cup final and lost to the Turks on penalties. Fox Sports started showing more highlights and games. The Brewhouse, right up the street from me in Little Five Points, would show matches live on Saturday mornings.

Arsenal were good. ManU were good. They fought for the title every season. Their players showed genuine antipathy toward each other. Wenger was thoughtful and erudite.

And ManU were led by the bully, the man who had won the treble, the man who was Knighted, the "mind games" master. Alex Ferguson made me angry and sick and envious all at once. I hated his touchline tantrums and his incoherent Scottish mumblings during post-match interviews. I hated his arrogance and his big red nose and his gum-smacking. I hated the fact that he could not bear to accept Arsenal's greatness.

Arsenal are stuck now, stuck trying to service the debt on their lovely modern enormous stadium. Arsenal can't buy players like Bergkamp any more. Wenger can do nothing about that situation; it's reality, unalterable. Arsenal have foresworn the sugar daddy model that Chelsea (scumski!) pioneered. That's noble. ManU have money, all the money in the world. ManU could buy every player on every club on every continent and have enough left over to keep Ferg supplied with enough claret to stay permanently buzzed.

Wenger buys talented teenagers and tries to get them to play like men. Ferg buys the best players and screams at them until they win everything. Chelsea buy everything else and play shit ugly football. Liverpool are lukewarm tea.

Arsenal can't fix what's wrong until the stadium is paid for. I don't blame Wenger and I don't think he's naive or stupid. Tactics are what they are in this sport, but talent ivariably trumps tactics if the players are committed to the effort. I am really sick of watching Arsenal's bargain buys fall apart, but I understand it. Eboue almost drove me completely mad at one point this season, but by the end he was showing the necessary commitment. That was rare this year.

Eboue? I can't believe I'm talking about him when ManU have the players they have. I talk about Bendtner and they trot out Tevez and Berbatov. Everyone sees this and nobody understands it. Wenger has Arshavin, Fabregas, and a faceless cast of kids and the Manc garbage Silvestre.

Wenger paints this situation as "his vision" and "his experiment." The truth is he had to adopt this tack because he has no money. Talk about a challenge. Talk about greatness. Here it is: Finish in the top four in England with no money. Do the same in the Champions League. Toss in the semifinals of the FA Cup too. But remember, you have no money.

I resent ManU's success because of the amount of money they spend, and earn, and because they are led by a bitter old bully. I'm never happy for them when they win anything. I understand that it evolved this way, which is why I hate Chelsea far more. I hate the silly things Ferg says about opposing players and managers and officials while excusing the excesses of players like Rooney and Crissi Ronaldo (and the worst offender of them all, Royston Keane).

Someday Arsenal will be great again. I hope Wenger is around to enjoy it.

With malace toward some, and charity toward all

I have so many thoughts right now. The main thought I have is one word:

Bankruptcy.

This is not meant to be an attack on anyone. It's just a thought about how the modRepubs tried one more time to run the 1988 Presidential campaign, how they were gifted a brown-skinned dude with an Arabic-sounding name (I don't even know if that's the proper term) and a so-called "most liberal voting record," and a strong record on using the boogey man of terrorists to convince just enough of the electorate that they were "the national security party,"

and how they still lost.

I had nothing to contribute to this political season but words. I am broke, like many Americans who have college degrees but little opportunity. I didn't have money to give. When the primaries were in full swing, I was working two jobs, one serving coffee and one serving the rich of NOLA, 60+ hours and six days per week. My feet always hurt and my right hip veered dangerously close to arthritis. No time nor ability to put my "feets in the streets" (as my old mentor Maynard Jackson used to say).

I don't know if you noticed or not, but I did not once praise or endorse our new President. That's right.

I didn't even want to do it.

What I wanted to do was remind anyone who would bother to read my words that once upon a time there was a Republican party in America before Lee Atwater. I wanted you to see the hypocrisy, the hate, the cynical manipulation of people who've never had a chance at a decent education.

Every day I asked myself, "How can decent people who claim to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ of Nazareth vote for the modRepubs?" How?

It is because I was raised by people who voted Republican that I chose to focus on this failed party and its disgusting strategy. It is because I spent more time in a Southern Baptist Church than anyone other than Billy T. Nimmons himself that I wanted to call out the Pharisees and hypocrites. It is because the sentence "In as much as you've done it unto the least of these, my brethren, you've done it unto me" is STILL my guiding principle that I had to cry out against the evil I saw around me.

I was not raised to believe that calling brown people "monkeys" is acceptable behaviour.

I was not raised to believe that forcing someone to follow any religion is the way to convert him.

No, my father taught me by example that every man and woman deserves to be considered your equal until he or she shows you otherwise. Disagreeing about politics is not a reason to despise anyone. And my mother, despite her many flaws, taught me that civil discourse is necessary and expected.

I first voted in 1988 in the primary, for a Senator from Illinois. Paul Simon wore the bow tie. He was an old school Democrat. I could not believe in any other candidate, Republican or Democrat. He appealed to my sense of idealism by saying "We are a United States. I can't tell you how a child failing in school in Louisiana affects people in Washington state, but I know it does." Yes. I can see that. So I voted for him. And I voted for Governor Dukakis in the general election. I did not believe in George Bush then.

I will be honest and say that I did not believe in Bill Clinton, either. Nor did I believe in Albert Gore, and certainly I didn't believe in John Kerry. Feh, I thought.

The modRepubs have become an ugly, ungainly beast that now only can win by fomenting fear, hatred, suspicion, mistrust, and outright lying. Where was the appeal to the best in us? Seriously, is all they have a mixture of abortion, fundamentalist religion, and fear of non-white people? Wow.

White people have always had an axe to grind in America. They've hated the native people, the slaves, the Irish, the Italians, the Jews, the East Asians, the Mexicans, the Arabs...whew. And when they ran out of those folk, they turned on "Old Europe." This is funny to me, because I don't know if white people have noticed, but they have been on top since, oh, FOREVER. White people have stood back and put their arms around their toys and said "MINE MINE MINE MINE!" for so long that they don't really understand that sharing is the best way to make sure that they WILL get to keep their stuff.

Honesty about ethnic prejudice makes many people uncomfortable. I understand that. But that is the beauty of tonight. Tonight was the culmination of a process that had shone a brilliant light on the ugly side of the modRepubs. Atwater said it best: "In the 50s, all you had to do was yell 'N-----! N-----! N-----!'" Then it became yelling about busing, and then it became yelling about welfare, until finally we got back to yelling the equivalent of the n-word. And I say, thank whatever invisible man in the sky you believe in that "people" like Saxby Chambliss would show you the filthy recesses of their old, stupid, white minds.

I am drawn to the disfranchised and marginalised in the world. I live in a poor city, and have never shied away from making friends with black people. I have had black friends tell me, "You've crossed over!" My first job after college was working for the South's first black mayor. It's not posing. My Father brought his best friend, a black man, to our lily-white First Baptist Church in the early 70s. My Father was no bleeding heart liberal. He had one belief: Tell it like it is. Before Alzheimer's claimed him, he told me he did not trust or believe what the modRepubs of W were saying. In other words, they weren't telling it like it was.

My goal during this election was very simple, and a tribute to my Father: Tell it like it is. I didn't see any reason to talk about Senator Obama. But I had to call it as I saw it about the fear mongering, hate mongering, lying, distorting, negative, unhappy, bitter, nasty, divisive modRepubs.

I am the type that tends to be more reflective after a successful moment. I don't know how to live in the present. When UMass made the Final Four, I couldn't cheer. I cried. I could only recall the struggle to get there, and those who couldn't be there. Tonight, I cried, I cried for all the kicked-in heads, for James Meredith, for Nat Turner, for heroes like Stokely, and Bobby, and Mario, and Cesar, and Shirley, and Jackie Robinson. I am a white boy from Georgia, but to me, tonight was a promise kept by the United States of America. Thank you. I think I love you again.

Clean my gutters, you illegal immigrant!

I have this bad idea about myself. It is because I don't want to (gasp!) own a home.

I have in my life tended to a home that Regions Bank owned for me and I paid them for that honour. I bought a lawn mower, lawn edger, ladder, leaf blower/mulcher, refrigerator, alarm system, termite protection, pest control contract, and paid neighbourhood association fees and property taxes.

I did this because I was told by many other people who paid banks for their homes that this was the only smart thing to do.

But, well, I never really felt comfortable about this. I was more of the mindset that I was a renter by nature, and it would have been nice to just rent some decent affordable housing somewhere that crime wasn't an issue. I neither had children nor planned on having them, so the "decent school district" thing wasn't a motivating factor. Rather, I was more on the "decent, affordable bars district" tip.

I say this only because as I continue to read that "foreclosures are at an all time high," I keep thinking, "Is this because so many people who shouldn't have tried to own property were goaded into doing so, and because there is no national affordable rental housing program?"

Now, don't get me wrong--I understand that each and every person, no matter how stupid, is responsible for his or her actions and we can't blame the mortgage industry. But I just don't get the whole lust to "own property" and especially I don't get the whole "you have to do this because that will pay for your future!" mantra.

Hey, no judgment, but, what if I don't want to own property, but still want to know that being a responsible person will allow me to avoid poverty in my old age? Or maybe, I look at the housing market (and yes, why shouldn't having a roof over one's head be turned into a commodity like burgers or kidney transplants) and say, "Damn, there's no safe housing available for $40K?"

Does anyone here know why a national affordable rental housing program similar to that bastion of free market capitalism Singapore can't work? I'm sorry for my ignorance, but I just don't get it. I don't want to mow a lawn, have a kid, or be tied down to a 1/4 acre of land owned by a bank.

Why I hate boring shit

Let's suppose something. That is fun. Supposing is fun.

Back in the Greek days (no, I don't mean when you enjoyed buggery, nor your desire to associate with douchebags just like you on your university campus as you eagerly enjoyed a round of soggy biscuits, elephant walk, or butt rodeo), let us suppose that there was a man named Aerocles. I don't know if that's a real Greek-type name or not, but it sounds plausible. So here's Aerocles, and he fancies himself to be quite a good writer. And he writes something fucking amazing, basically the best thing ever written. It's so fucking incredible that Sophocles and Aeschylus and Homer come over to this guy's house and say shit like, "Holy motherfucking balls of Zeus, you make us want to kill ourselves because you are such a great writer!" I mean, seriously, let's suppose this guy writes the story of mankind from amoeba to godhood, but he dies young and his shit gets kind of lost. Then he gets found out later, and becomes the John Kennedy Toole of Greece, and everybody is like, "Sweet Winged Balls of Prometheus, I have never read such great prose! And almost no sodomy!"

Then one day, the Romans come along, and they're all, "You fuckin' Greek bastards, we are gonna burn up all your 'Tales of Buttfucking' and 'Blind Dudes, Incest, and You' books!" And then Aerocles' amazing story disappears. Nothing is left. The Romans burned up all the newspapers, too. I think they killed Archimedes while he was in the bathtub and he was writing "The Formula that Explains Every Fucking Damn Thing on Earth" too.

So anyway, some people got all hyped up and they were like, "By the teats of Artemis, we must save whatever is left of our great assfucking Greek culture!" and they looked around for something, anything, that was lying around. And Doucheocles is like, "Motherfucker, all I have are some old copies of these piece of sheep shit plays by Aeschylus and that super boring 'epic poem' by that blind cuntface Homer! Man, do I hate that crap. I don't even know why I kept it."

And suppose THAT is why we have to read that shit. I remember reading that one play about how those dudes were fighting that war and the women wouldn't fuck 'em, and I thought, "Yeah, THIS is the height of human intellect!"

So I hope that in three thousand years, nobody makes high school and university students watch "Caddyshack 2" or "The English Patient" just because everything else was destroyed.

Coffee & Kahlua for breakfast

"Hopes" are stupid. "I hope so" is incredibly stupid. Hope is the desire to see a flip of the coin fall your way. It's like clicking on the ad at the top of this page because you hope you'll win a free VagiPod.

I have rediscovered my hatred of people. Wow, do I hate them! And I am yelling about that! People suck. People are stupid. People are disingenuous fucks. People are shallow and self-absorbed.

Now, I am not saying that I hate a person, just people. In general. Like any time a person starts to gather with other people. Joiners. Joiners suck. The herd sucks. The Marshall Thundering Herd sucks even more.

The enemy is not chaos but conformity. And people are like termites that build giant structures in the desert. They exist only to build those giant towers of spit and puke.

I like angry people, but I don't want to meet them or talk to them. I'm just glad that people still get angry. But I don't like people who get angry over gay marriage, abortion, drug use, or people who "take advantage" of the welfare state. Injustice and stupidity are far more angry subjects.

The click of a woman's heels on the tile floor, echoing from around the corner, brings the promise that always goes unfulfilled. But I still hope. So I am stupid.

Thank you, Lord, for THE NOOGE

Louis "The Nooge" Nugent
NUGENT Louis ''The Nooge'' Nugent, Esquire III plus, died on January 14 after a courageous battle with colon cancer. Born October 6, 1948 at Hotel Dieu, New Orleans, LA. Grew up on S. Telemachus St. and attended ''Sacred Heart of Jesus'' grammer school, Warren Easton High and West Jeff High School. He entered the US Marine Corps in 1966 and gladly exited in 1970 to attend UNO where he secured a B.S. in Geology (like a proud Pa Pa).

Louis ""The Nooge'' Nugent aspired and self appointed hisself as King of the ''Original'' Krewe of Motha Roux, which would march ahead of the Krewe of Endymion without a permit, simple reason why, at that time the cost of the ''fine'' was much cheaper than the cost of the permit which included hiring policeman, etc.

An acknowledged ''Existence Specialist'' and ''Sleeping Millionaire,'', he also ruled as President and Promulgator of ''Blind, Cripple and Crazy, LLC'' and ''Take My Wife Please, LLC.'' After stints with Exxon, a New Orleans school secondary math and science professor, the US Postal Office and the US Postal Inspectors, in 1980, he landed in the New Orleans Fire Department (achieving captain status) and simultaneously obtained his real estate broker's license (as ''The Land Lord''). He loved both jobs dearly and worked under the motto of the late Mother Teresa, whom he often quoted as ''Work without Love is Slavery.'' The Nooge additionally served as a charter board member of the now defunct Crescent City Bank and Trust.

Also in 1980, the Nooge wed the lovely Martha ''Sweetie'' Bell Nugent at the New Orleans Jazz Fest to the beat of Greg Stafford and Dr. Michael White.

The Nooge, a coffee house frequenter and floundering father of Mandeville Free Thinkers Society, became especially known for his fountain of wisdom at 78 rpms. This special wisdom that you can't just read about.

As a New Orleans Saints ticketholder since 1967, like Buddy D, he did not live long enough to ever see them win a Super Bowl. Nooge assimilated and matriculated through many memorable bus rides with numerous luminaries including the late Ernie and living Antoinette K-Doe, Bluesman J. Monque 'D, tv's Ronnie ''Naturally N'Awlins'' Virgets and Al ''Carnival Time'' Johnson.

The Nooge constantly sought evidence as a conspiracy theorist of the JFK murder plot carefully sifting through books and video tapes while staying under the US government radar.

He loved ''all that is New Orleans'', the music, the houses, the people, the smell, the essence. The Nooge was a rare species, found only in New Orleans amongst the other rare specimens in New Orleans. A true card carrying ''Character!'' Be sure to wear your struttin shoes and socks!

Nooge was the beloved husband of Martha ''Sweetie'' Bell Nugent and the father of Ryan Irish and Kyle Patrick Nugent. The son of the late Louis M. ''Liver 'n Onions'' Nugent, the late Margaret ''Face'' Hand and stepfather William ''Apehead'' Thompson. The brother of Margaret Gilmore and Pat Bell. Relatives and friends of the family are invited to attend the funeral service. St. Timothy on the Northshore United Methodist Church, 335 Asbury Lane, Mandeville, LA. on Tuesday, January 17, visitatiion from 2-5 pm, church service at 5pm followed by a reception until 8pm. Arrangements by Schoen Funeral Home, Covington, LA.
Published in The Times-Picayune from 1/16/2006 - 1/17/2006.

Randy Newman: Right on the Issues, Wrong for America

Live from Los Angeles, it's MY BLOG!

Yeah. Room 614 of the Miyako Hotel in Little Tokyo. Big Trouble in Little Tokyo.

L.A. is a giant fucking mess. Traffic. Traffic and more traffic. Remember, I lived in Atlanta so if I'm complaining about the fucking traffic then I promise you IT FUCKING SUCKS HERE.

You might like to think that Chicago or New York or Philly or DC is "the American city." That's cute. That's nice. It's laughable, too.

Los Angeles is America's gift to the world. New York is more like London than any part of America. But L.A.? Oh yeah, baby, that is America. Sprawl. Pollution. Corrupt cops. Excess. Gang wars. Ethnic conclaves. Stupidity as art. Violence instead of sex. Sex as violence. Television as culture. Self-awareness as self-knowledge. You want it? It's here. And it costs a fucking fortune.

I'm here to raise money and awareness and possibly educate folks about homelessness. The real story of homelessness. Because L.A. is THE American city, the homelessness here generally LOOKS like a bunch of people sleeping on sidewalks in Skid Row. These are people with mental health issues. So you see them so visible here and you say "Ah, you see, the poor crazy fuckers, let's create a more humane mental institution and throw them in it and then homelessness is gone!"

Sorry for that. Wouldn't you rather hear about me rubbing elbows with the stars? Bouncing from one trendy Hollywood party to the next? Well shit, you should because it's all true.

I think that Charlyne Yi might be a child genius. The DooDoo Christmas Show couldn't really be described as anything else.

I've read that there might be remains of some old L.A. drunk culture and that fascinates me to no end. Raymond Chandler haunts? Seriously? (Editor's note: Raymond Chandler was a pulp detective novelist, not the fat dude from "Friends." For more information: stuff about Raymond Chandler)

I'm talking about places where people who thought they were going to have something but found out they were actually going to have nothing end up. Apparently there are still thousands of idiots who come to Hollywood each year thinking they're "gonna make it." I say "idiots" in a loving way, mind you. Anyway, then they don't make it and they discover the healing power of drink. (Compare that to New Orleans: People come there because they don't give a shit if they make it or not and quite frankly that's the least of their worries so they just get hammered, joyously and happily.)

Why are we so different than all the nice Mexicans who come to Los Angeles every day? "Let's bust our culas, amigos y amigas!" I just don't get it. They actually come here and in a few months think they've made it. We go to L.A. and if we're working in the service industry or "compromising our principles" we decide that we're colossal fucking failures and we start drinking our way to oblivion. We suck.

In closing, I'd like to say "thank you" to the fine people at Lexus for choosing Sabine Ehrenfeld for their "I need to buy my rich, uninteresting husband a Christmas present" ad. Honestly, tell me THAT'S not range! From pimping the poor man's ebay to Lexus? Let's face it, America (or should I say Los Angeles, because they're one and the same), we LOVE Sabine. It's been proven. She could sell us the new fucked up Medicare plan and we'd buy it.

So there you have it. I don't love L.A., L.A. loves Sabine, and homelessness isn't fucking funny. Drink up, America.

Except colon cancer, maybe

First of all, I would like to do what people do when they win something or something fortuitous happens to them. So now, I am officially on record as thanking God for the fact that I found 23 bottles of Dixie Beer yesterday. Dixie Brewery isn't coming back to life. These might be the last 23 bottles in the city.

All praise to Jesus and hell, even Allah, who deserves all of the credit and without whose strength I wouldn't be here today.

Actually, I am proving that life is just one big happy accident. And it is. I had to get my hair cut yesterday. What led to me finding the Dixie Beer?

Before I moved here, I met Will Forte during Jazz Fest 2004. We stayed in touch. I guess now we're friends, whatever that means. We have a fundrasier on December 19 that he's hosting in Los Angeles. Accident one.

After Katrina, the only bar in my neighbourhood that is open is Pal's Lounge. It was there that I met Adrienne, who told me about Savannah, who cuts hair at Mickey Nolan's in the Quarter. That's where I went to get my hair cut yesterday. Accident two.

I had to go down there early yesterday because there's no parking and it takes a long time to find a space. I got there early and went into the little shop next door to Mickey Nolan's. And it turns out, yep, that this place had 17 Dixie beers. I bought them all. And the lady who worked there told me that there was another store close by that might have some. And they did. Accident three.

Life is an accident. Get over it.

One of the most INFURIATING things I hear on a regular basis is "Everything happens for a reason." My response? Uh, no. No it doesn't. Most of the time we just happened to make a random choice that led to something else.

My mother always derided me for watching television and for drinking. But if I didn't do those things, I would never have met Will Forte and he wouldn't be holding this fundraiser for us. Does that mean that God wanted me to watch TV and drink? I mean, after all, doesn't everything happen for a reason?

When a soldier kills an innocent person in Iraq, and then that soldier is killed by a roadside improvised explosive device, that happened for a reason, right? Except that the solider has a wife and kids back home. Oh well, tough luck bitch, everything happens for a reason. And by the way, to the survivors of the dead Iraqi, too fucking bad for you! Wrong place, wrong time? Oh no, because EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON!

Hey, that has to be what Barbara The Cunt Bush meant when she said that post-Katrina life was "working out really well" for the people living in the Astrodome in Houston. You lost everything, but look now, no crime! See, everything happens for a reason!

And all the racist bastards in New Orleans know it: Katrina got rid of all the black people in NOLA! Hooray, everything happens for a reason!

My mother, the Baptist Sunday school teacher, must know that her rheumatoid arthritis and double-mastectomy happened for a reason. I'm sure it's been working out really well for her.


I'm saving the Dixie Beer for New Year's Eve.

Bourbon Street is lame. It used to be interesting in a sociological/anthropological sort-of way. Now it's worse than downtown Calhoun on a Friday night. I've never been there but I don't need to go to know how lame that is. For my local friends, let's say, Bourbon Street sucks worse than Gretna. And Gretna fucking sucks fat whale shark cock. Do whale sharks have cocks? Who knows? I'm not going to the Georgia Aquarium and asking them about whale shark phalli.

I leave for Hollywood on Wednesday.

How did I get here?

Who cares! Everything happens for a reason!

I'm marching with Krewe du Vieux at Mardi Gras. Thank you God and Jesus and Allah.

Snoopy's Christmas with My Missing Darling

I have pretty much had it with Christmas songs that are laments that someone's "baby," "sweetie," "honey," or "darling" is not there, or celebrations of the fact that that honeybunny IS there.

That is simply not what Christmas is supposed to be about. Fuck off! You need to understand, if he or she wouldn't make the effort to be with you at Christmas, they probably hate your fucking guts anyway. Get over it, freak. What are you, a stalker?

Examples include that wretched "Please Come Home for Christmas" by the Eagles, "Christmas, Baby Please Come Home" by too many fucking people to count, "Merry Christmas Darling" by the Carpenters ("Logs on the fire fill me with desire?" Holy shit that is terrible!), and "All I want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey.

Next on the banning list: Anything that combines Christmas with "Rockin!" Christmas doesn't rock. End of. If you want to rock, wait 6 days and rock on New Year's eve, you idiots. Or better yet, rock at Easter. "Have a Rockin' Little Easter!" would be awesome: "Jesus woke up; Let's Rock!"

The two most egregious offenders of this idiotic genre are of course "Jingle Bell Rock" and "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree." WHO THE FUCK ROCKS AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE? If you're doing that, you need to be in fucking rehab. Toss in that "Little Saint Nick" tune by the Beach Boys. Brian Wilson may have been a genius, but that song makes me want to put him back in the asylum forever.

I'm very disturbed by songs about making out with Santa Claus. This is some seriously fucked up imagery: "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." Great. It's bad enough the kid's mom is a slut and he sees it, but she happens to be swapping spit with Father Fucking Christmas! Also included is "Santa Baby."

Up next: Songs that have absolutely no connection to Christmas. "Baby It's Cold Outside?" "Walking in a Winter Wonderland?" Nope. Nothing at all. Who made the rule that you have to have songs about snow anyway? The whole fucking planet does NOT live in Vermont, assholes.

While I'm at it, all songs that end with a very slow playing of the first few notes of "Jingle Bells" must be banned. This is not cute or interesting, it's a fucking cliche. Please start with "Christmas in Dixie" by Alabama. In fact, please kill Alabama and destroy every copy of every one of their recordings.

All recordings of Christmas songs by Michael Bolton, Celine Dion, Barbara Streisand (yes, yes, I know), Whitney Houston, George Michael, and any other person who screams their fucking heads off should be dropped into a volcano.

Lastly, please never again let me hear a "Christmas Novelty Song." This would be that mind-numbing "Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer" and that dumbarsed song about Snoopy having Christmas dinner with a WWI German pilot. Take the people who made this dreck out back and beat them senseless with a snowshovel.

This leaves us with a nice, tidy, sensible catalog of Christmas songs. Either traditional carols or pop songs sung by the masters. Which reminds me: If you have a copy of Bing Crosby or Nat King Cole singing a Christmas tune, why the fuck are you playing the version recorded by some talentless contemporary hack? It's simple, really:
White Christmas = Bing Crosby
The Christmas Song = Nat King Cole

Follow that example and you'll be fine.

Progress: It's hard work

I have twice now experienced a particular post-Katrina phenomenon that caught me completely off guard.

I went away for a few days and wondered when I came back would everything be back to normal. It wasn't. I thought there would be progress. Not much.

I was in my home town for Thanksgiving and caught myself looking at a gas station, wondering if it were open or not. That's what being here has done.

What if you were stuck in an airport and there were two people near you having an intense conversation about camping equipment? And one of them was wearing a fanny pack? Would you slit your wrists?

I'll go one better--what if you were stuck on an Amtrak train for 14 hours and a curiously effeminate giant was sitting next to you saying things like "Whoo child!" and "Lawd have mercy?" Would you drink yourself into unconsciousness courtesy of the bar car?

It's almost December. Hurricane season 2005 is over. I'm still waiting for someone to stand up and declare NOLA safe for the next season. Tick tick tick. Hear that, Mayor Nagin? Why aren't we doing it ourselves? I'm not kidding. Call us out. Tell us to grab a shovel and a bucket and when to be there and we'll build up the levees ourselves. If you're in NOLA and you're waiting for the Feds to show up and do their job, you can fucking forget it, buddy. We're on our own, per the usual. Sitting down and waiting and bitching isn't going to help. And I don't know why we can't just start getting shit done. Let's go back in time and take care of this thing with our backs and our arms. I know plenty of engineers who live here and would love to supervise the work.

In other words, fuck the Feds, let's save NOLA together.

The other night when I was visiting Pal's Lounge, somebody accidentally knocked a bar stool over. My response? I jumped up and doubled up my fists in case it was another Invasion of the Rednecks. Thank you for the inspirational words, Shane Macgowan. I need to be in a fight at some point.

"Slammin' drinks with Shelly Duvall and Freak Boy." I think my friend T. Stacy should stage this unusual drama performance about me, alcohol, and the hallucinations brought on by breathing in refrigerator exhaust.

George W. Bush says that Iraq is the center of terrorist activity in the world. Really? I wonder if that has anything to do with 150,000 US troops being there. No really, do you think that has anything to do with it?

I had a bizarre Thanksgiving. I was thankful that I have friends and family who've supported me since the hurricane and that's what I said. But for the first time in a long time I would have preferred to be with strangers in New Orleans than with my family because I just don't think anybody outside of here understands the veil of longing I feel any time I'm away and the painful desire I have to get back. I don't even know if I'm doing anything productive or responsible by being here but even eating lunch at a local cafe makes me feel like a NOLA patriot.

Another post-Katrina moment of joy

Thought I'd drop 'round the pub last night. Pal's Lounge on N. Rendon is the only functioning bar close by, I think I mentioned that. The owners were kind enough to come back and if you ask me, they're doing Bayou St. John a tremendous service. We OWE them for coming back and restoring part of our neighbourhood's character.

So what happened last night?

5 contracted clean-up crew members who are living in City Park came to Pal's. They got wasted and started harassing the regulars. They started a fight, were told to leave, shoved Lindsay the bartender (she was the only one working there last night, and she's a petite little gal) and were thrown out by the regulars. Lindsay locked the doors.

So these fucking idiot carpetbagging motherfuckers proceeded to get their shovels out of their car and smash Pal's window and the glass in the doors.

Yeah, Pal's. The mellow dog bar.

Unfuckingbelievable. Thanks for nothing, assholes. Pal's survived Katrina and Rita but couldn't survive a storm of drunken white trash.

I got there as the NOPD were taking statements from everybody. Just like Katrina, I wasn't there to help. How depressing.

I was so angry I told people we should have gone and firebombed the tent/trailer town inside the Park. The city is awash with losers from every nook and cranny of America, Mexico, Honduras...shit, there are probably a few Nigerian e-mail scammers running around. "Dear Citizen of New Orleans, I am Prince Abogabobondobooboo..."

I really felt like someone must have during the Great Depression when Hoovervilles were routinely burned to the ground. Visions of me and my shotgun started popping up in my head. My shotgun? What the fuck is wrong with me?

So, to the racist Republican motherfucker from the Halloween party, I'd like to say, Gee, yeah, it REALLY is great that the bad element is out of the city. We're so lucky that all the black neighbourhoods have cleared out, we won't have any problems now!

Suck my balls.

A lack of nonsense hurts

Pre-Katrina, I was happily enjoying the strangeness and insanity of New Orleans. I also felt at liberty to post nonsense.

I don't feel like it now, though, and that's pissing me off.

Now the strangeness and insanity is due to things like what I just saw at Juan's Flying Burrito--a booth filled with 4 camo-clad, M16 toting soldiers. Dude just rested his rifle against the corner of the booth next to the door. Humvee parked out front.

The less technology-based you were before the storm, the better off you are now. Pal's Lounge was a primitive, dirty little hole of a bar before the storm. Now it's downright luxurious with it's ancient cash register (that's right, it ain't no "terminal") ringing up your one dollar PBRs. And food? I think Linda (?) puts stuff in a crock pot and leaves at the end of the bar for you if you want it.

The good folks at Entergy have given me back natural gas service. I flipped out the other night when I got home from the gym and absent-mindedly turned on the hot water and for the first time since August it came out hot. Not bad timing since it's 40-farking degrees in the morning for at least the next 7 days.

The Fairgrounds area and Bayou St. John remain shells of what they once were. No people. All the good times and weirdness are in some other city or town, slivers of them, anyway. Maybe pieces of them are in Baton Rouge, or Dallas, or Houston. But they can't be, don't you understand? It's not just the people. It's the people PLUS New Orleans.

It's cold today. When I drove away in August I had no idea what this would feel like. Last night there was wind and rain so my power went off for 4 hours. That's what happens now. The wires are held up with string and gum and paper clips so you just better get used to it.

That's why I'm a freak about keeping a bunch of shit in my fridge. I'll never "stock" the fridge ever again, ever. Vodka, beer, hot sauce, soy sauce, individual cans of V8...that's it. It's like how our grandparents were after living through the depression, only in reverse. A full larder and a full fridge meant safety. But for me, the thought is "what if I have to evacuate? Will I have or take the time to throw out everything that's gonna spoil?

I went out and saw music last weekend for the first time since Donna's my first Saturday back here. I went to d.b.a. and heard a cobbled-combo version of Hot Club of New Orleans. The owner of Coop's Place pulled up a pickup with a giant grill in the bed, parked it in a parking space across the street, and for his birthday started dishing out free barbecue, sausage, baked beans, cole slaw...just because, you know.

And I drove all the way to Maple Leaf to hear Shannon Powell. It was a funky, almost rockin' Shannon, though. It wasn't "Powell's Place" Shannon. And that was that.

New Orleans is a half-hearted ghost of itself now. I love the people and I love what remains but it's so sad. It's just so sad.

Don't even think about trying to turn NOLA into Charleston, motherfuckers!

Walgreens Can Suck It, Hard

So if you had the exclusive franchise on "Now Open" signs, you'd be making a killing.

A lot of shit is open. Most of it is still closed.

Dumbass Ray Nagin still has a meaningless 8PM curfew on my zip code. I've certainly made a practice of obeying that. Hey Ray, thanks for inviting me back. "Come on back, Antonio. Oh, but stay inside, okay?"

I don't want to go off on a rant about Nagin but the man is insane.

He wants a committee to "Bring Back New Orleans" when there's not even one public school open. Hey man, I'm no parent, but wtf is wrong with you? You're worried about "the culture?" How about this: You concentrate on public safety and education and leave that shit to the people who control it: EVERYBODY!

Entergy has not yet restored natural gas service to my neighbourhood. Last week it was 41 degrees in the morning. Cold shower? No thanks!

So I found that I had brought an ancient electric kettle/hotpot with me when I moved here. I have no idea why, but having it now makes me look like a genius, because I can boil some water, pour it in a big bowl, and at least improvise the feeling of a hot shower in the morning. I understand that throwing things away is a good idea--I'm for it. But see...?

People have "just shown up" from all over North America here, looking for work, or in the case of the black cowboy from West Louisiana, they're "just trying to figure it out." It used to be that people came here because they'd already figured it out, and it usually meant "drinking heavily." Now it's the guy who needs to "follow his heart." Oh dear. This is not a good sign.

Still waiting for somebody, anybody, to stand up and say "So Nagin has told y'all to come back. I think he forgot to mention that the schools are closed and that landlords are jacking up rents and as of today, we still can't promise you that NOLA won't flood next year if hit by a Category 3 hurricane." How would you like to be a business owner from an area that got flooded, just waiting for the whole thing to go under again? Madness.

I can't get a bbq shrimp Po'Boy from Liuzza's. There's no more Dixie beer. But that's not the worst of it.

Last weekend I made the horrible mistake of going to a party on the West Bank. Technically still in OP but the party was attended by...well, let's just say it was attended by people who felt comfortable telling a stranger "Hey, at least the niggers are finally gone."

Holy shit. I hope there really is a hell, because that fat Republican fuck belongs there TODAY. Who the fuck says shit like that? Is this 1962? Get your racist ass back to fucking Gretna and I promise you I'll stay on the other side of the bridge. That's a promise. I am never crossing that bridge again EVER.

I feel really bad about going over there in the first place, but I feel worse for just swallowing it and going on about my business. If I hadn't been seriously outnumbered and a complete stranger to most of the people there, I would have screamed "FUCK YOU!" and called a cab immediately.

Chalk that up as a "Post-Katrina moment."

Last Monday I dressed up as "Captain Communism" for Halloween. Go Big Red!