Thank You, Sir

I was able to join a friend who had tickets to a recent game in Chapel Hill, two Saturdays ago versus Rutgers.  My friend also had his 7-year-old in tow, and they did some of the 7yo stuff at Tar Heel Town, while I went off in search of some cool refreshments.

Walking around Tar Heel Town, I went right past the soon-to-be-former Athletic Director having his lunch sitting on the steps of one of the campus buildings.  I immediately wished I'd have stopped and said hello, but he was eating...and I try mind my manners to the point of not being a bother to someone mid-meal.

I did hustle my way back around THT and tell my friend about who I'd just seen.  Really?  No way.

Yeah, really...and way.

But, I regretted not slipping back by and manufacturing a way to shake his hand.

Later, though, I would get my wish when my friend had to take the youngun to the little fellers room.  I was standing in the shade just inside Kenan Stadium.  And, right by me walks Mr. Baddour.

"Mr. Baddour," I say, "thanks for all you've done for this University."

He actually thanked ME for asking him for the photo-op!  Remarkable.



Institutional Control

There'll always be folks who pretent to be something they aren't.  Case in point: a recent commenter to an online article claimed to be a UNC fan who isn't disappointed the football team members cheated, but that they had gotten caught.  I'm a Tar Heel fan.  I hope all the cheaters get caught and receive stiff punishment, whether they be star players with questionable scruples, manipulable and manipulative fellow students,  coaches with selective attention spans, and most importantly the scum-bag agents.

There's lots of commotion in the lamestream media these days about so-called "institutional control" among the athletic departments of major colleges.  Carolina-hating Caulton Tudor wants Butch Davis fired and Bomani Jones (who?) writes for ESPN.com that "Davis' defense rings hollow."  The thrust of their points?  That the head coach should have known about (or knew, and covered up) improprieties committed by several of his players and one coach.  Much of that rhetoric reminds me of the Nifong vs. Duke LaCrosse witch-hunt, so I say consider the source before subscribing any value to their perspectives.

Former assistant/co-head coach John Blake certainly appears to have been doing as many things wrong off the field as right on it, and someone that knows him as well as Butch Davis did or does admittedly could have given much more scrutiny to Blake's allegiances and behavior.  But the student-athletes?

I remember when I was a just a high-school athlete, and hearing reports from former teammates who had gone on to the college level, of boosters palming C-notes to them in the post-game locker rooms.  Perhaps the coaches charged with monitoring their behavior were intentionally looking the other way.  Until a diligent coach got wise (or suspicious) and banned locker-room visitation, how easy was this practice?  For what it's worth, I played a little college ball to and witnessed zero ethical or institutional misdeeds.

Knowing the current schemes by agents to recruit "runners", fellow students who earn a few bucks befriending and distributing gifts to athletes on behalf of those agents, how much "control" can anyone have regarding the kids.  The best you could hope for in such situations is a player having the self-control and wherewithal to refuse something he hasn't earned.  You can try teaching that, but it's a tough climb trying to mandate it.

Caulton Tudor Should Resign Or Be Fired

Though I'd rather not drive any traffic to his ass-wipe reportage, or to his big Obama-loving rag of a McClatchey fish-wrap, the Charlotte Obscurer, if you want an example of biased, control-the-court-of-public-opinion drivel, look no further than today's column by Caulton Tudor.  (Sorry, I was gonna link to it, but you'll have to look it up yourself...See the sports section and bring your own barf bag.)

Tudor suggests that Butch Davis should resign or be fired as "the single most necessary step in the rehabilitation process for the school and the football program."

Of course, to make that assertion, you'd have to already believe in Davis' culpability in the matter, and to believe somehow that completely skipping the rest of the NCAA investigation to jump straight into (self-) punishment phase has any merit whatsoever.  Or you have to have personal reasons for wanting that to happen.

Tudor delivers his proposal as if it's somehow valient for Davis to fall on his sword, for the sake of the University's image, but you really have to read with mental earplugs to not hear the Anti-Carolina venom dripping on his keyboard.

Truly, does his body of work really suggest to anyone any measure of objectivity?

He seems to believe that if the players remain without eligibility and a coach has been dismissed, then all the coaches are hiding additional guilt, and by extension the University and all its students are also guilty, and every fan probably, too.

I never read his articles, because I know what I'll get if the subject comes near UNC: thinly veiled animosity.  I only clicked that link today because of the egregious headline and the consideration of ridiculing it in this space.

And to a point, I generally say, who cares?  Let the Pusspack and Blue-Pillow-Biting-Devils have their own propogandist, so long he can either keep to a reasonable level of bile-spewage or acknowledge his bias.  For someone like him to presume the authority over someone else's career, though, is insulting to anyone with a modicum of objectivity.  Where the hell does this guy get off?  What right does he have to call for Butch Davis' job, anymore than he has calling for yours or mine?

What divine edict placed you ahead of the investigative process and distribution of punishment, sir?  Mighty presumptuous of you Tudor, and mighty disgraceful.  I think you should quit immediately.

Of course, I submit that most readers already fired you and your paper long ago.

Roughing the Puss-Puss...Fifteen yards from the spot of the foul

According to the Raleigh News & Observer, NCSU coach Tom O'Brien publicly took exception to UNC head coach Butch Davis' account of the postgame misbehavior of UNC's Dante Paige-Moss.  The Obscurer's Ken Tysiac claimed that O'Brien telephoned "a reporter" to voice his umbrage.  At the N&O today, there's a video of the incident.  Yep, I watched it.

Davis had said that Paige-Moss shoved a player who was taunting him.  In the video, it does appear that the Wusspack players might have been barking and taunting, but certainly none of it specifically in Moss-Paige's face.  It is clear, however, that DPM (that's much better than typing out all that hyphen-stuff) took a swipe at the NCSU player.  And I'm not talking about the kind of "Oh yeah, well here's something for you to yap about about" cold-cock, knuckle-sammich-shot to the mouth.  No.  DPM, still wearing his brain-bucket, took a half-ass slap at the (helmetless) State player while ducking away.  Three words:

PAN. SEE. FIED.

I still say that you can't take any man seriously who has a hyphenated last name.  Maybe that's part of DPM's problem.  Maybe, having a hyphenated name makes you a sort-of-hyphenated man.  Note to American men: Do not let your son grow up with a hyphenated last name.  Pick a fuckin' name.  If your wife is manly enough to demand that her name is worth keeping, and if you can't squelch the hyphen nonsense, rather than permanently display your lack of man-card, just go ahead and acquiesce completely to her name.  At least do your kid that favor.  Seriously, he'd be better off with a name like "Sue."  And if you're that kid, who might someday have his name written on the back of his jersey in front a gazillion people, it's time for you to man up, too.  Once you turn 18, go on down to the courthouse, and get yourself undashed.

How wormy do your have to be, as a man, to let that happen?  What's next...your name is Smith, and her name is Smith, so in deference to both your families you decide to name your little demon spawn Smith-Smith?  Or, how about this: Both of you might change your names to Smuh-to-the-ith.  Spelled out and super-hyphenated, just like that.  Puh-to-thuh-thetic, I say.

O'Brien's motivation is clear: Keep controversy stirred up, because without a bowl of their own, there's not really anything for him do regarding his current players.  But the implication that his players were blameless in the whole episode is pretty much just as pansyfied as DPM's slappy-run play.  And not a single ounce more justifiable.  If you believe Tommy O-to-the-B, his little angel was just mindin' his own bidness.  But if you look at his quote a bit skeptically, you figure (like I do) that it's just more taunting.  Which is fine by me, so long as you stand up there and do it, instead of pretending it ain't what it is.

I wish Davis had said, "In addition to suspending him for our bowl game, I showed Dante Puss-Puss a video of (Carolina Hurricanes defenseman) Tim Gleason as an example of how to fight like a man.  Further, we've instructed him that if he can't win on the football field, he'd better get used to some taunting, and that slappy-run plays are the modus operandi of O'Brien's gang, not ours."

One small victory in that whole mess?  Could be that this guy, Marvin (unhyphenated) Austin, who doesn't seem to like the 'Pack' so much and plays his best games against them, might decide that beating those taunters is reason enough to stick around Chapel Hill another year, instead of going to the NFL.

This just in...my good friend Kurt (unhyphenated, but a State fan) just called to say he's pretty sure that this post constitutes yet another pass-interference penalty, which will be assessed on the Tar Heels' first play from scrimmage in the Meineke Bowl.

The Sports Report

I'm just now getting around to this. What a tough week it was, through Sunday, for sports teams who were unlucky enough to have me rooting for them!

A short sequence that included a holding call that negated a touchdown pass, an interception that crushed another promising drive and the ensuing play where a defender inexplicably slipped, all conspired to upend the Tar Heel football squad's fortunes. A third-quarter, 18-point advantage vaporized, and perhaps with it any confident hopes for bowl eligibility. This one will sting for a long time.

The Hockey-Hurricanes lost two overtime games on the road. Fantastic that they picked up a couple of points for the regulation ties, but both games could have been victories. Those two points that went unearned will prove regrettable come playoff-race time. I can't quite put my finger on it with these guys. Doesn't seem like they're all pulling together, or in the same direction, every night. Not sure if that's coaching or rather a question of all those guys having the same level of want-to each night.

The game that kicked my ass, though, was the Panthers on Sunday. Joke DelHominy just ain't got the grits. He is, by himself, responsible for two losses. Before that game his QB rating was 33rd in the league. Think about that. There were 32 starting QB's better than him and one scrub better than him. If there has ever been the epitome of one game being the proverbial last straw, the scenario Delhomme found himself in Sunday just had to be it: Before this game, he's the worst there is...and he gets even worse by throwing 3 interceptions.

Jake is probably the most likeable guy on the team, and the fact that his teammates rise to his defense is admirable. But, he can't play the position because A) he can't throw the football, and B) he won't throw the ball where only his receiver can catch it (or away).

If he had four wide-receivers named Steve Smith, he'd still manage to screw the pooch at least twice a game. The nuances of being on the same cerebral plane (and how did those two disparate personalities ever acheive that?) are fickle. The ad-libbing that they were sometimes memerizingly great at, just isn't dependable enough to win with any consistancy.

Of course, that makes you wonder what the hell is going on with the coaching staff. Am I the only one that slings the remote across the room after...?

• Possession One: 3 running plays earn a first down, followed by 2 running plays, then an incomplete pass on third and two, followed by a punt
• Possession Two: Incomplete pass, incomplete pass, incomplete pass. Punt.

Fox and Davidson have to know this guy is incapable of playing the position. Every defensive coordinator that has ever coached a game is telling his team, "the thing that will win us this game is if we get the Panthers to put the ball in Delhomme's hands. Even if they're successful in their running game, some force of idiocy will inspire them to actually want to throw the ball." Fox/Davidson abandoning the running game (the one thing they're good at) isn't a matter of if, but when.

The O-line is great at run-blocking, but look like the Keystone Kops every pass play. For the love of George Halas, Fox, let them numbnuts do what they're good at! Quit trying to make chicken salad out of chicken shit.

For the past two years, the best quarterback in the state of North Carolina has been Armanti Edwards at Appalachian. That includes all the D-1 schools and the Panthers' entire roster. Here's a revolutionary idea for you: Cut Delhomme immediately (so there's no temptation to revisit that failed experiment) and run the Wildcat exclusively. Take turns letting DeAngelo Williams, Jonathan Stewart, Steve Smith, and Julius Peppers receive the snap. They may not win any games, but they'd be a lot of fun to watch, contrary to what we're getting now. And before you whine, "...Oh but, once you remove the receiving threat of Steve Smith, defenses will put 10 in the box, and you'll never get anywhere...blah, blah, blah"...consider the fact that Travelle Wharton has a QB-rating roughly the same as Delhomme's. That is, anybody on the team is more threatening to a defense, throwing-arm-wise, that the Bum from Beaux Bridge. Cut him and draft Edwards.

Want one more very good reason to shit-can Jake? Here 'tis: In today's Observer, Tom (worst sportswriter ever) Sorensen offers the headline : Let's give Jake one more shot (I try to never read past his headlines any more, thanks to lots of, ahem, "teachable moments"). Okay Sorensen, but only if that shot is in a 1.5oz glass, in a bar on the way outta town.

My new Panthers cheer: Geaux Jake! And take Sorensen with you!

The only thing I enjoyed for having wasted that much time in front of the TV? Ford Trucks' new commercial that tries to rag on Chevy and Dodge trucks. "Our Ford trucks have Smart Truck technology...they'll help you if you get lost or lose your tools, and they'll provide voice-recognition that helps you play all your favorite lite-rock hits from the 80's. Don't forget our man-step, too!" I'll bet they dump the King Ranch version in favor of a sponsorship arrangement with a beer company that markets their products in cans that change color when the contents are at the appropriate temperature.

We're Godzilla. You're Tokyo.

Crunch! Stomp! Crunch!

Oh yeah, baby. Been a long nine months. It smelled like Autumn outside today. The first new leaf colors showed up over the weekend, and today was noticeably cooler. Here comes what is undeniably the best time of the year.

Time to hit somebody.




Update:

If the start of Carolina football this Saturday wasn't enough for you, consider the fact that also this weekend, the greatest alumni game ever assembled will tip off (Friday, 8PM) in front of a sell-out crowd in the Dean E. Smith center, where (also worthy of a "yeah, baby!") the banner acknowledging the 2009 National Champion UNC Tar Heel basketball team will be raised to the rafters.

One of my favorite writers, Adam Lucas, reports on tarheelblue.com a scene that recently took place in Coach Williams' office.

Roy Williams was sitting in his Smith Center office, the one with the newly framed photo of Ty Lawson and Michael Jordan hanging out at the Cousy Award ceremony. Across from Williams was Phil Ford; on the office speakerphone was Pat Sullivan. Ford and Sullivan were serving as the designated "general managers" for a draft intended to distribute players for Friday night's game.

As everyone involved reviewed the talent pool, Williams looked at Ford. "You know,
Phil, point guard must be a pretty easy position. Look how many point guards we've got on this list."

Both men chuckled...and at that exact moment, Lawson walked in the door.

"See?" Williams said. "They're all over the place!"

Lawson was stopping by before working out with some current and former Tar Heels later in the afternoon. That gave the room exactly 1,361 career assists--plus another 120 on the phone, as Sullivan would probably be quick to point out. It's hard to round up that many assists in some programs, much less on an average Tuesday afternoon.

What a great weekend to be in Chapel Hill. Happy Labor Day, y'all.

Reliable Sources

First things I read this morning were the sports sections of the Charlotte Obscurer and Raleigh News & Obfuscator, two McClatchy (sp?) papers. McClatchy is also the publisher of a book that seems to actually celebrate Barack Obama, and professed their collective support of that candidate during the campaign. That support strikes me as a conflict of interest, because the printed word carries the implication as being from those who know to inform those who do not. And if you the reader are going there to glean anything more than the sports scores and voting results for the All-American team, you are likely to be victimized by systemic misleading rhetoric disguised as information.

This post was going to be a mild cry of disgust at the fact that anyone not named Tyler Hansbrough could be considered Player of the Year. Truly, fans of Oklahoma, Arizona State, Davidson, UConn, Notre Dame, Kentucky, Marquette, Louisville, Kansas, Florida State, and Duke, all having a player who received at least one number-one vote, would gladly swap their best player for Hansbrough. Anyone who says different is smoking crack. Don't give me that, "he has the athletic game suited to the pros" nonsense about Griffen, because it ain't the NBA he's playing in. I'd concede that he (Griffen) will certainly be a better pro, because the NBA game is exactly what that guy exhibited most of on Sunday: not doing much for great stretches of gametime until an opportunity presents itself to do something spectacular. He obviously wasn't very well conditioned to maintain any sustained excellence. Did everyone else see him gasping for air in the first half, and refusing to run back downcourt to play defense with his teammates? Must be the comparative League of Weaklings that is the Big 12. That smack doesn't go to the KU fans...just those pansies from Greater Mexico. Ooo, that reminds me of an old joke...paraphrasing... Know why Oklahoma doesn't have a basketball program? Answer: Because then, Texas would want one too.

But like I said, that was what this post was going to be about, but it ain't...College basketball is a fun diversion from everyday struggles but there are things infinitely more important.

In spite of the sliminess I got from doing the McClatchy thing, I still held out hope that better and brighter subjects might land on my reading plate this morning. And, clicking on the BlackFive link served up two such morsels to rescue my disposition for this day.

If you haven't stored the sites from my blogroll in your IE favorites files, the obvious question is, "Why the monkey-spank not?"

Seriously, before you read anything else, you'll be better off checking for updated content from any/all of these: Blatherings, No Feet, The Sister, BlackFive, Flopping Aces, the JLF, and the Wild West (in no particular order) and even to include Pam at Atlas and Ace of Spades. These folks can be counted on to dish out the straight poop regularly. And, like I said, MacQ and Uncle Jimbo (who I've quoted here before) fed us some gems today. Those authors, respectively, gave us the story of welcoming home the remains of a US Paratrooper who gave the ultimate sacrifice, Cpl. Jonathan Ayers, and a politically unifying community you should at least be aware of, if not heartily subscribe to, Simon Jester. Regarding Cpl. Ayers, his hometown, and his comrades:

Probably the most gratifying moment for me, besides the award, took place as everyone was leaving. The family had been escorted off the stage, and other members of the family in the audience were allowed to leave before anyone else left. Then Cpl Ayer's platoon mates stood and began to file out from the front of the auditorium. The entire crowd, unbidden, stood and gave them a standing ovation as they left, many patting them on the back and shoulders as they passed by. I saw a few glistening eyes in both the crowd and among the platoon members.

And regarding Uncle Jimbo's I am Simon Jester:

We are not Far-Right or Far-Left. We are the seventy percent in the middle.
We are not Capital “L” libertarians, although we do have sympathies with their platform.

We are neither bitter clingers nor conspiracy nuts.

What we are is a group of folks that think we see liberty and freedom eroding in our beloved United States. We see the policies and agendas of the hirelings in Washington D.C. heading toward an abbreviation if not outright abrogation of the Bill of Rights.

Since each post is not an independent link, you'll have to scroll down to each article. Small effort considering the reward. Go there, now. Feel better about yourself and your world. And consider it good advice to rid your life of mind-numbing things like Oprah Winfrey, MSNBC, and McClatchy "newspapers".

I can't get the phrase, "Zombie kittehs vote for Ken" outta my head

We at the staff of the Livermush blog shall not revel in the Blue Devils' loss last night. That team and their fans should be proud of a successful season. I don't want to dogpile on them, because I've always felt that bad form might usher in bad luck. It's already got to be the worst harbinger in sports history that the monumentally inept and despicable Obomination is publicly rooting for my guys. Combine that with Sports Illustrated putting Ty Lawson on their cover (universally known for being bad luck) and my fellow Carolina fans better be finding some Buddha bellies to rub.

If the bad-luck factor isn't enough, consider the fact that Gonzaga, Carolina's opponent tonight, runs the Flex offense. Care to guess which other Tar Heels' foes this season ran the Flex?

Maryland & Boston College.

Care to guess what program is the model for the Flex? Gonzaga.

They know the Flex offense so well, one of their assistant coaches has written a book about it.

I hope that all the UNC players, coaches, and staff have had an opportunity to expectorate in the Mighty Mississippi by now.

On a slightly different note, the picture above is of all the folks I recruited to go vote for Ken, who is a Duke fan. But, Carolina fans are fans of Ken because he kicks the bad guys' ass. So, go vote for Ken, else I'll come kick your ass.

Photo credit goes to the FCB, who aside from being a better photographer than I, is also a brilliantly gracious host...the gold standard in that department.

Recapping...find something lucky for the 'Heels, vote for Ken, kisses to the FCB...

Go Tar Heels!

A comedy of minor tragedies

Remember in the Coen brothers' mob drama, Miller's Crossing, when bad guy Gianni Kaspari whacks one of the other bad guys Eddie (The) Dane over the head with the fireplace ash-shovel, as The Dane is strangling good guy Tom Regan? And the oaf known as "Drop" starts hollering, "Aaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhh..."?

No?

Well, go watch that film and when you hear Drop hollering, you'll have a sense of what has kept me away from updating this thing.

I should have been able to punch out a happy report (on Sunday) of all the pleasantries from the road trip of the day previous. That trip, coupled with the suffocating sense of dread over our country's future, has had me near catatonic except for the occasional Drop Johnson impersonation.

The genesis of the entire plan was the scheduled Tea Party at the Capitol in Raleigh. Then, because of its proximity and recent fame, I decided to have lunch, beforehand, at the Roast Grill. The plan was to park there, eat Greek hot dogs, walk to Capitol and observe Tea Party.

Also during the planning, I learned about a "Big Rock Show" at the Carolina Theatre, and a UNC vs. Duke baseball game. Okay, I thought, it could all mesh together seemlessly.

The obvious (read "obvious" to anyone who's ever heard of Murphy's Law) flipside to that meshing together business, is that if one domino in the chain got twisted, absolutely none of it could "mesh". I believe it was more than just that one domino askew, because it seems now that forces were acting in concert to prevent the Big Plan from coming off.

I made sure to set the DVR to capture the Carolina vs. LSU game, and got started out perhaps 15minutes later than intended. The 2.5hr drive to Raleigh was more encumbered than expected, and we (I picked up the FCB at her house, and made sure that she also DVR'd UNC's bball game) arrived at The Roast Grill 30 minutes later than planned.

There was a video crew on the scene from the Travel Channel, filming interviews with patrons as a follow-up to the recent Man v Food episode, and its being there drew a crowd, which meant the actual dog dining took way too long. The dogs were pretty good. You can get them "burnt to a crisp" which is the only way to cook 'em at my house, and you can have a freshly squeezed Budweiser with them (which I did). You can't, however, carry your Bud outside "to-go"-like. Plus, there's no real parking at the Roast and I was parked in a tow-away (even on Saturday) lot. The chili wasn't thick enough for my tastes...

The day's schedule should have gone about thusly:

• 11.30- roast grill


• 12noon- tea party


• 1.30p- leave for baseball game at UNC


• 2-5p- UNC whips Dook


• 5.45-7.59p- UNC basketball, NCAA tourney


• 8-10p- Arrogance reunion show


• 11 until- maybe watch DVR'd replay and hang with party aminals

Since there wasn't adequate parking at the Roast, we left looking for something closer to the Capitol...only to learn...this is classic...the St. Patrick's Day parade, rescheduled due to bad weather from the weekend prior, had gummed up all the roads around and to the Capitol. We had just come from the place closest to the Tea Party, and already behind schedule, and with the daunting prospect of finding a parking spot (and some subliminal stick-in-the-mudness from the FCB), I abandoned the Tea Party, which was the whole original purpose for the trip, to get back on schedule by heading on to Chapel Hill. It was almost 1PM then, facing approximately 30 minutes to campus via I-40.

Get back on schedule? Au contraire, mon frere...

Something on the interstate had westbound traffic...not just slowed, but...stopped. Hey, no problem. I went baja to catch an almost-missed exit ramp and directed FCB to punch up some detour request from her TomTom, which she had luckily (yeah, right) brung along. I wasn't a fan of TomTom, or any GPS navigator, but here was the perfect opportunity for one to prove its worth. Let's just say, since TomTom helped get us to the stadium in 1.5 hours (instead of 0.5 hours), I'm even less of a fan now. When we got to our seats, it was the bottom of the 2nd, and the Diamond 'Heels were down 3-zip. If we'd have gotten there in a timely manner, I'm convinced I could have willed away at least one of those Dookie runs. That sounds unpleasant, doesn't it? "Dookie runs"...heh...

The Tar Heels made a valiant comeback, but 4 errors (bad luck all around that day) were insurmountable.

At least we'd get back to Durham, and the FCB's house in time for the basketball game, right?

Nay, Loki...

We (meaning not me) decided to that it'd be best to meet Debra DeMilo (she of the Fabulous Knobs fame, who would turn out later to be the highlight of the evening's big rock show) at a burrito joint. Since I knew we were DVR'ing the game and I could watch it later, I didn't kick up too much fuss. I don't remember the name of the joint, but their burritos were damn good. I knew FCB had promised Debra that she could change and prep for the show at her house, and I had no idea at this point that FCB's spare bedroom was really going to later be commandeered by the visiting Big Rock Star (effectively kicking me to the sofa), I was giving the whole equation the big 'W' for wut-evah...

Coming out of the burrito joint, I quickly got Woody Durham dialed in on the Frequency Modulated station, and we headed back to FCB's. It sounded like a royal dog-fight of a game. On arriving, she punched up the game on tv. During breaks in the action, I changed my puddled-up undershirt, and noticed how Big Rock Chick's travel and stage items didn't look especially temporary in the spare bedroom. No biggie...just my imagination...

Back I went to the remainder of the game. And what a game! I would later read Adam Lucas' account that both teams played their best game, that the point-swings were more a case of great things accomplished than due to errors on the part of one team or the other. The 'Heels had lost, I think, a nine point lead and trailed by one, and the announcement was made that we needed to go to the venue. At 7:25.

What?!

Since when do I find myself in the presence of, not one but two, females one of which is a Big Rock Star, intent on arriving...wait for it...

Ahead of schedule...?

I had already volunteered to drive, partly because I hate being left to the coming-and-going whims of others, but also to maybe have some influence on the overall itinerary. Again: yeah, right. We loaded up, and I got them to the Theatre (it was 3 minutes away), and I listened to Woody and Eric call the end of the game whilst the girls went on to their Big Rock pre-schmooze. Whew! that game was too close for too long.

I knew this was going to be a saga, but there's no getting around it. Instead of integrating the photos, as planned, I'll probably bump them to a second post.

Back to the show...Arrogance was a late-70's-early-80's NC band that most have credited with the North Carolina "Combo-Land" sound, which spawned later, more-successful, acts like REM. The adjective that kept pounding away in my head was: "anthemic" And, I'm pretty sure I had long since had enough of "anthemic" with REM's first album. At least it was a sit-down show, and folks managed to hold back on standing up to show their "homage" until about the next-to-last song. Thanks, old hippies...I mean it.

On the other hand, Debra kicked their asses. She purely tore up Chuck Berry's Little Queenie & The Stones' Honky Tonk Women. The FCB confirmed sometime during the festivities that I had, indeed, inherited the couch for the night...but no biggie.

By 10PM, I was ready to vamanoosepordelacasa for PBRs and 'Heels, but apparently there were interviews and more schmoozing to be done, so I waited in my truck for another hour and a half.

Patiently.

Finally, getting back to Club-FCB, I was allowed to get into the DVR'd game, and I planned to see the whole thing. But that plan lasted through about halftime, and was pulled in favor of...get this...wait for it...

Jessco White, The Dancin' Outlaw.

In-bred, multiple-personality disorder West Virginians tap-dancing and saying things like, "Woman, I'll cut yer thoat with this here butcher knife if you don't stop serving me those sloppy-slimy runny eggs."

After that was done, at 2AM, I decided to let the current take me and resigned to accept the fruitlessness of the day, embrace a few hours of slumber, then wake up, dash home, feed dog, and relax to my DVR'd game.

The ride home was uneventful, and I even decided to catch Adam Lucas' essay on the game over at tarheelblue.com before watching it at leisure. I enjoy doing that when I've got a delayed version to watch; he always has fantastic perspective and insight from courtside and knowing the immediate background on the players and coaches. Needless to say, after reading his account, I was primed for watching the game...finally...Except...

Somehow the recording did not record. No matter where in the library of recorded shows I looked, it wasn't there. My comedy of errors that started with me putting myself behind schedule for the entire day, by making sure to set that confounded DVR, had come full-circle. Call it a technical glitch or operator error, no matter. It all equals the same thing.

So you can sit back and laugh it off, or you can join me in doing like Drop Johnson,

"AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH..."

Draftin'

I got some stuff cooking, but I'm too busy to post it. Kinda like this photo of my kitchen. I just need to get it in the pot.

Instead of blogging, or actual work (ha!), I'm gonna watch the 'Heels.

ACC Tourney, kiddoes! Go Tar Heels!

I just heard Jones on the pregame say that Ty Lawson won't play today. That's too bad, but I'd much prefer he got healed up for the big dance.

Y'all feel free to pick a slice of snout off the table if you're that hungry. Otherwise, don't bug me. I'm drafting!

Stuff and other stuff

More valuable insight (depends on how you look at it, I know)...

Last night's Tar Heels victory is extra sweet given that it's the 5th straight in Cameron Indoor sweatboxatorium. One thing I've referenced before, is how us Carolina fans enjoy our ability to watch our team compete and win without us having to feel we're part of the competitive equation. That is, we're cheering for our five guys to beat your five guys (or sometimes, our five guys versus your five players and 2 or 3 of the refs). We are absolutely tickled with the fact that you Duke fans were helping your team...and...

We. Still. Whipped. Your. Punkass.

Hahahahahaha. I love it.

On to other stuff...

I meant to mention this earlier. Actually, I did mention it, but didn't elaborate. Here come da E-laboration: Sunday, neighbor-friend Ted takes me along on the horse-ride, remember? I was riding Nockahoma, and there were 17 of us riders. I was not prepared for there to be that many folks, as I thought it was going to just be a few of us, but it was a coordinated ride with the local horsemen's association. The ride was over 8 miles long. This was my first time riding Nockahoma.

Nockahoma's nature is that he hates being amongst a bunch of horses; he likes to be out in space. When he's behind another, he likes crowding up on them and his gait is choppy. When out by himself, he's very easy (not to mention, comfortable) to ride. But, when he gets out in front, he behaves very unsure of his direction.

Once, this was happening in front of Ted and several other riders. We were talking about it, about 4 of us, I think. I said, "I know what it is."

They were all curious, of course. "Do tell," says Ted.

"He's a democrat" says I.

"Why do you say that," someone asked (I believe they thought it a good thing that anybody or anything is a Democrat).

And I said, "because he wants to lead, but he doesn't know how."

And even more stuff:

I was gnashing my teeth this morning, in spite of my otherwise pleasant disposition regarding the Carolina game, over having a person (in my presence, no less) utter the following ignorance in regards to the (choke, choke, hack) "stimulus plan": I'm just glad they're working together...

Can somebody please just shoot me?

Boortz made me feel a little better. He has a way separating the wheat from the chaff:

Yesterday we were supposed to get the grand financial plan from Obama's tax-cheating whiz-kid Tim Geithner. And what we got was a bunch of grandstanding, but not a lot of details. Here's one good line: "We're will have to try things we've never tried before." Wait! Isn't that what brung us to this hideous dance with all these ugly partners in the first place?
Let's see ... we'll start out by making millions of home loans to people who have no credit, no steady job history, and certainly not enough income to pay the loan back. We'll make these loans to people who should be renters. We've never tried that before on such a large scale .. let's see how that works out for us.
Here's something else we haven't tried before. Let's pass a law - we'll call it the Community Reinvestment Act. This will be a really nifty way for the government to interfere in the free marketplace. We'll set up some urban gangs who can make sure local banks make bad loans to favored minority groups .. or they'll get spanked by the federal government. Let's see how THAT one works out for us.
Once we have those two programs we haven't tried before in place, we'll keep interest rates artificially and illogically low for far too long. Yeah, let's follow this monetary policy that virtually every sane economist not working for the government thinks is a grave mistake because voters like low interest rates. That ought to work out really well.
So now our tax-cheat Treasury secretary wants to try some more things we haven't tried before? Well, you may think that this message brings great hope, but it would seem that the stock market didn't like that one bit.
If you want to see just how this gang of leftist statists want to change this country some new details can be found here.
The reason we don't have more details has to be because they really don't know how the hell they're going to pull this off. It's just going to be stuff we haven't tried before. No chance for letting people work, thrive and then spend their own money.

New career path

Confucius said (really, look it up), "Find something that you love to do, and you will never work a day in your life."

Now I know what I want to be when I grow up.

I want to be the body painting artist for the SI swimsuit chicks. Seriously, not even considering how much fun the actual job would be, consider the mileage you'd get out of it with your friends: "Yeah, I was painting a nekkid supermodel in a tropical paradise again today..."

I think I'll start training for this job. I plan to go with the "self-taught" method, and I'm not, as they say, real tight with the local supermodel community. So, if anybody out there knows any supermodels (or maybe even some not-so-super supermodels, or maybe even still some not nearly super supermodels) that wouldn't mind so much me drawing "The Pirate" or "Skippy" on their skin, then send 'em on over. I have an account over at Sipe's Lumber and Hardware.

...In other news: Tomorrow, I plan to launch a new feature called, The Daily Flush-O-Gram. It should be fun.

Tonight though? Basketball, kids! Turn on ESPN, turn down that royal dipshit Vitale (Oh Baby, it's a p-t-p-er, it's a dipsy-doo dunkaroo...) and get Woody cranked up loud.

Get 'em Tyler!

Go 'Heels!