In Other Rooms, Other Wonders by Daniyal Mueenuddin (2009)
Showing posts with label barack obama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label barack obama. Show all posts
Books I Read Over the Summer (2012)
In barack obama, In books, In Bryan Harvey, In Daniyal Mueenuddin, In David Maraniss, In Into the Wild, In John Brandon, In Mandela, In Marjane Satrapi, In Michael Chabon, In Persepolis, In Richard Ford, In Rosecrans BaldwinSeptember 3, 2012
In Other Rooms, Other Wonders by Daniyal Mueenuddin (2009)
Tampa Bay, Obama, and Doritos: An Interview with Josh Spilker
In Ambient Florida Position, In barack obama, In Bryan Harvey, In Deckfight, In Josh Spilker, In LCB Interview, In literature, In Nick at Nite, In Ronald Reagan, In Tampa Bay Rays, In TeachJanuary 31, 2012
Me: What sparked the idea for the book?
Josh: I actually set out to write a story about Detroit [the book takes place in Tampa].
A Trip to Pittsburgh
In barack obama, In Circuit City, In damn cold, In Drody, In French-Indian War, In ketchup, In Picksburgh, In Pittsburgh, In ramblings, In Super Bowl, In TeachFebruary 1, 2009
Two weeks ago, I took a road trip up Pittsburgh. I left on a Friday after a week of trying to get highschoolers to review for their midterms, and I stayed until Monday, Martin Luther King Day. On this trip, I learned a foreign language. Yinz see, I went to Picksburgh and learned Pittsburghese. Becoming bilingual on this trip was a bonus. The purpose of the trip was to visit Drody and his fiancee. I wanted to see how they were making out in the Steel City, since their move from the City of Brats, Milwaukee. When I planned this trip, I had not idea I'd watch the temperature drop from 18 degrees when I left Virginia to -4 degrees in Picksburgh. I can't give the exact windchill, but let's just say it was damn cold.
I stopped once on the way for gas and a meatball sub at a Sheetz just before getting onto the Pennsylvania Turnpike, and snow covered the ground. It's a strange experience to leave a place where one has not even seen a snowflake all winter, drive hours in the dark, and then step out of one's vehicle to find the earth wrapped in a blanket of snow and ice, without ever having seen a snowflake fall. The experience can cause one to lose their seasonal context, like the season 5 premier of Lost or the premier of Life on Mars. I lost my reference point when I stepped out of my car and into the dead of winter. I called Drody to see how far away I was and to inform him that I may have gotten lost in Narnia, that my car was a magic wardrobe, and that Mr. Thomnas made my meatball sub at Sheetz, before a werewolf truck driver came in and wrecked the place. Western Pennsylvania took me out of comfort zone.
I like to ease into winter, so this trip came as a shock to my system. I never saw the snow fall, but there it was covering everything; and it wasn't a clean, fresh snow. This snow had already been churned up in rubber tires and covered with grease and oil. This snow was already sludge and looked more like it came from a slag heap at a coal mine than from a nimbostratus cloud.
Before arriving in western Pennsylvania, my winter experience had been a busted thermostat that caused my apartment's temperature to dib into the 40's. In Picksburgh, there was snow, negative temperatures, and a busted water pipe in Drody's apartment building. The landlord notified us of the break with a sign on the building's front door that read, "PIPE BREAK FIX SOON." I wondered if their landlord was an Indian chief from a politically incorrect John Wayne movie: "Red sun rise. All water dry up. Must go to river. For people to live free like buffalo. White man cheap bastard."
I'll jump into a swimming pool without dipping my feet, but when it's cold outside I can take all morning to get out of bed. I sip hot chocolate slowly because I'm afraid of burning my tongue. The cold makes me less responsive. I struggle to adapt. Last year, while at school, snow covered all the cars in the parking lot, and I didn't have an ice scraper. Instead, I used my longboard to shovel snow off my windows. I don't like the cold, and I don't understand why people choose to live in it.
When humankind rose up on two legs and walked out of Africa, I don't know why anyone walked into places like Mongolia, Scandanavia, and Picksburgh and decided to stay put, unless frostbite had already taken hold of their feet and legs and forced them to make permanent encampments. These places seem unnatural to live in, just as yinz sounds unnatural to anyone not from there. Of course, I drop a yall in every sentence, so who am I to judge? Still, the cold makes me feel tired, beat down, and weary. It makes my left knee turn into a rusted hinge that squeeks and creaks like the Tin Man's jaw. I was only in it for four days and three nights. I can't imagine what living in a place like that does to one's psyche after days turn into months, months turn into years, years turn into decades, and decades turn into generations. After just a few days, I took pride that I was sleeping in shorts and not flannel pajamas. After experiencing years of living in that frozen, stagnant sludge, I'd probably take great pride in terrible towels, the Pens, and the ghost of Roberto Clemente.
I got to Drody's on Friday night. We spent the night drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, instead of Steel City Ale, and playing RockBand. Our band was called The Newsies. We wore newsie hats and brown blazers. Every song started with one of the following lines: "Get your papes!" or "Have no fear, Brooklyn is here!" It was a fun night. On Saturday, Drody, the fiancee, and I went and saw some of the sights of Picksburgh. We hit up one of the Jewish neighborhoods of the city for some pizza, we saw the strip, and then we went to the Heinz museum.
First, let me say that Stiller fans are a strange breed. I wouldn't even call them fans. They should be called followers because they're a religious cult. On Saturday, it was still damn cold outside, and these people are still outside, shopping for black and gold gear at a flea market, known as the strip. The thing is, each person I saw buying more Stiller gear was already wearing multiple jerseys. Several of these people don't wear coats or jackets to stay warm--they just wear more jerseys. I bet if one were to go up to one of them and ask him to peel off their jerseys one by one, the history of the franchise would be revealed. It would be like going into an old rowhouse and peeling off the wallpaper, only to find another layer of wallpaper, representing a bygone era. The first jersey would be Big Ben's, then a Polamalu jersey, then a Bettis jersey, then Kevin Greene and Greg Lloyd, then Ron Woodson, followed by Mean Joe Green, Franco Harris, Lynn Swann, and Terry Bradshaw. I don't know why these people were out buying more merchandise when everything they already own is black and gold. It's like watching King Midas as a football fan, and everything he touches turns into Stiller memorabilia. Midas wound up despising himself and his gift when he came to the realization that gold can't sustain human life. Can a city that was built for the twentieth century be sustained by a football franchise in the twenty-first century?
The Heinz museum is an interesting place. We took the elevator up to the top exhibit, which is dedicated to the French-Indian War. The French-Indian War was just a tremor of the Seven Years' War going on in Europe, a sign that the world was shifting and changing into something else. This shift was the world turning away from colonialism and monarchies and towards nationalism and democracy. At the time, this war did not seem to be about ideals and how nations define themselves as much as it was about territory. Picksburgh is built on the front of this 18th century war. Picksburgh is a city formed from a series of forts built strategically where rivers meet. Rivers and oceans have always shaped the world in which we live. Water takes many forms: liquid, ice, snow, rain, sleet, steam, and sludge; these forms, in turn, shape human life.
A series of forts becomes a city that ships out coal, steel, glass, and condiments. In the Heinz Museum, the floor below the French-Indian War exhibit holds three exhibits of its own. The first exhibit lays out the history of glass making in the Ohio River Valley, and gives examples of everything glass is used for. It's a long list, and one can feel like quite "the stupidhead" when looking at objects that don't look like glass but are.
The second exhibit was dedicated to Heinz Ketchup, Heinz pickles, and other processed foods. The Heinz Corporation began processing and packaging foods in the nineteenth century. These foods became staples of the American diet in the 20th century. America could not have become a suburban and commuter society without these staples. It's ironic that a blue collar town, such as Picksburgh, paved the way for America becoming a white collar nation, making itself obsolete. Throughout this exhibit, one can hear Carly Simon, singing the lines: "Anticipation, anticipation/ is makin' me late/ is keepin' me waitin'." One can even hear these lines being sung while walking through a third exhibit on that floor dedicated to those men who lost their lives in Pennsylvania's coal mines.
The anticipation of waiting to be dug out of a collapsed mine shaft is much different than the anticipation of waiting for ketchup to come pouring out of a Heinz 57 bottle. America's steel belt has been America's rust belt for a while now, waiting with anticipation for how the world's shifting waters and governments will help them get back on their feet. While places like Picksburgh have been stuck in cave ins and winter's frozen sludge, places like Virginia have only needed patience for ketchup and other trivial items.
The day before the pipe in Drody's apartment building busted, his fiance discovered dirt leaking into the back of the toilet, meaning there was already a crack in the pipes. She called the landlord to tell them there was something wrong. The landlord didn't fix the problem or worry about it that day. Then the pipe busted and the landlord put up a sign: "PIPE BREAK FIX SOON." When Drody's fiance was on the phone with the landlord on Saturday, I sat on the couch, watching basketball, thinking this isn't a big deal. On Sunday, I couldn't piss or crap in the toilet. I had to hold in my sludge for hours, as did Drody and his fiancee.
We wound up going to Circuit City because they're going out of business and everything in the store had to go. We stopped at a fastfood place on the way to use the bathroom because when a person can't go in their own home, they still have to go somewhere. At Circuit City, all the yinzers that had been at the strip buying Stiller merchandise on Saturday were now at Circuit City buying plasma televisions to watch the Stillers on, while wearing their newly purchased Stiller merchandise. Midas apparently was still at work, touching everything.
There's been dirt in America's toilet for years. Places like western Pennsylvania, Ohio, Detroit, and upstate New York have been calling their landlords for decades, but Washington was too busy helping Wall Street make sure their burgers had ketchup. "Anticipation, anticipation/ it's makin' me late/ is makin' me wait." After hearing Obama's inauguration address and witnessing his first two weeks in office, I hope that the wait for some of America's heartland to be dug out of a cave in is finally over. I hope the fact that Picksburgh lies where three rivers meet allows it to adapt for the 21st century. I hope this is the last time the dirt in the toilet lesson needs to be learned by landlords. I hope that after the Seven Years' War, two World Wars, and multiple global economic crises our leaders realize that Midas touches everything from ketchup bottles to coal mines, from water pipes to rivers, from flea markets to Circuit City, from Pennsylvania's winter sludge to Arizona's deserts, and from Main Street to Wall Street and back again.
I also realize that even though Picksburgh already has 5 Super Bowl trophies and Arizona has none that this game tonight probably does mean more to Stiller fans, as Drody observes, "what happens to this city if they don't win?" I stayed there for only 3 nights and found myself taking pride in the fact I wore shorts to bed, so you tell me what Picksburgh would be without a good football team.
I stopped once on the way for gas and a meatball sub at a Sheetz just before getting onto the Pennsylvania Turnpike, and snow covered the ground. It's a strange experience to leave a place where one has not even seen a snowflake all winter, drive hours in the dark, and then step out of one's vehicle to find the earth wrapped in a blanket of snow and ice, without ever having seen a snowflake fall. The experience can cause one to lose their seasonal context, like the season 5 premier of Lost or the premier of Life on Mars. I lost my reference point when I stepped out of my car and into the dead of winter. I called Drody to see how far away I was and to inform him that I may have gotten lost in Narnia, that my car was a magic wardrobe, and that Mr. Thomnas made my meatball sub at Sheetz, before a werewolf truck driver came in and wrecked the place. Western Pennsylvania took me out of comfort zone.
I like to ease into winter, so this trip came as a shock to my system. I never saw the snow fall, but there it was covering everything; and it wasn't a clean, fresh snow. This snow had already been churned up in rubber tires and covered with grease and oil. This snow was already sludge and looked more like it came from a slag heap at a coal mine than from a nimbostratus cloud.
Before arriving in western Pennsylvania, my winter experience had been a busted thermostat that caused my apartment's temperature to dib into the 40's. In Picksburgh, there was snow, negative temperatures, and a busted water pipe in Drody's apartment building. The landlord notified us of the break with a sign on the building's front door that read, "PIPE BREAK FIX SOON." I wondered if their landlord was an Indian chief from a politically incorrect John Wayne movie: "Red sun rise. All water dry up. Must go to river. For people to live free like buffalo. White man cheap bastard."
I'll jump into a swimming pool without dipping my feet, but when it's cold outside I can take all morning to get out of bed. I sip hot chocolate slowly because I'm afraid of burning my tongue. The cold makes me less responsive. I struggle to adapt. Last year, while at school, snow covered all the cars in the parking lot, and I didn't have an ice scraper. Instead, I used my longboard to shovel snow off my windows. I don't like the cold, and I don't understand why people choose to live in it.
When humankind rose up on two legs and walked out of Africa, I don't know why anyone walked into places like Mongolia, Scandanavia, and Picksburgh and decided to stay put, unless frostbite had already taken hold of their feet and legs and forced them to make permanent encampments. These places seem unnatural to live in, just as yinz sounds unnatural to anyone not from there. Of course, I drop a yall in every sentence, so who am I to judge? Still, the cold makes me feel tired, beat down, and weary. It makes my left knee turn into a rusted hinge that squeeks and creaks like the Tin Man's jaw. I was only in it for four days and three nights. I can't imagine what living in a place like that does to one's psyche after days turn into months, months turn into years, years turn into decades, and decades turn into generations. After just a few days, I took pride that I was sleeping in shorts and not flannel pajamas. After experiencing years of living in that frozen, stagnant sludge, I'd probably take great pride in terrible towels, the Pens, and the ghost of Roberto Clemente.
I got to Drody's on Friday night. We spent the night drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, instead of Steel City Ale, and playing RockBand. Our band was called The Newsies. We wore newsie hats and brown blazers. Every song started with one of the following lines: "Get your papes!" or "Have no fear, Brooklyn is here!" It was a fun night. On Saturday, Drody, the fiancee, and I went and saw some of the sights of Picksburgh. We hit up one of the Jewish neighborhoods of the city for some pizza, we saw the strip, and then we went to the Heinz museum.
First, let me say that Stiller fans are a strange breed. I wouldn't even call them fans. They should be called followers because they're a religious cult. On Saturday, it was still damn cold outside, and these people are still outside, shopping for black and gold gear at a flea market, known as the strip. The thing is, each person I saw buying more Stiller gear was already wearing multiple jerseys. Several of these people don't wear coats or jackets to stay warm--they just wear more jerseys. I bet if one were to go up to one of them and ask him to peel off their jerseys one by one, the history of the franchise would be revealed. It would be like going into an old rowhouse and peeling off the wallpaper, only to find another layer of wallpaper, representing a bygone era. The first jersey would be Big Ben's, then a Polamalu jersey, then a Bettis jersey, then Kevin Greene and Greg Lloyd, then Ron Woodson, followed by Mean Joe Green, Franco Harris, Lynn Swann, and Terry Bradshaw. I don't know why these people were out buying more merchandise when everything they already own is black and gold. It's like watching King Midas as a football fan, and everything he touches turns into Stiller memorabilia. Midas wound up despising himself and his gift when he came to the realization that gold can't sustain human life. Can a city that was built for the twentieth century be sustained by a football franchise in the twenty-first century?
The Heinz museum is an interesting place. We took the elevator up to the top exhibit, which is dedicated to the French-Indian War. The French-Indian War was just a tremor of the Seven Years' War going on in Europe, a sign that the world was shifting and changing into something else. This shift was the world turning away from colonialism and monarchies and towards nationalism and democracy. At the time, this war did not seem to be about ideals and how nations define themselves as much as it was about territory. Picksburgh is built on the front of this 18th century war. Picksburgh is a city formed from a series of forts built strategically where rivers meet. Rivers and oceans have always shaped the world in which we live. Water takes many forms: liquid, ice, snow, rain, sleet, steam, and sludge; these forms, in turn, shape human life.
A series of forts becomes a city that ships out coal, steel, glass, and condiments. In the Heinz Museum, the floor below the French-Indian War exhibit holds three exhibits of its own. The first exhibit lays out the history of glass making in the Ohio River Valley, and gives examples of everything glass is used for. It's a long list, and one can feel like quite "the stupidhead" when looking at objects that don't look like glass but are.
The second exhibit was dedicated to Heinz Ketchup, Heinz pickles, and other processed foods. The Heinz Corporation began processing and packaging foods in the nineteenth century. These foods became staples of the American diet in the 20th century. America could not have become a suburban and commuter society without these staples. It's ironic that a blue collar town, such as Picksburgh, paved the way for America becoming a white collar nation, making itself obsolete. Throughout this exhibit, one can hear Carly Simon, singing the lines: "Anticipation, anticipation/ is makin' me late/ is keepin' me waitin'." One can even hear these lines being sung while walking through a third exhibit on that floor dedicated to those men who lost their lives in Pennsylvania's coal mines.
The anticipation of waiting to be dug out of a collapsed mine shaft is much different than the anticipation of waiting for ketchup to come pouring out of a Heinz 57 bottle. America's steel belt has been America's rust belt for a while now, waiting with anticipation for how the world's shifting waters and governments will help them get back on their feet. While places like Picksburgh have been stuck in cave ins and winter's frozen sludge, places like Virginia have only needed patience for ketchup and other trivial items.
The day before the pipe in Drody's apartment building busted, his fiance discovered dirt leaking into the back of the toilet, meaning there was already a crack in the pipes. She called the landlord to tell them there was something wrong. The landlord didn't fix the problem or worry about it that day. Then the pipe busted and the landlord put up a sign: "PIPE BREAK FIX SOON." When Drody's fiance was on the phone with the landlord on Saturday, I sat on the couch, watching basketball, thinking this isn't a big deal. On Sunday, I couldn't piss or crap in the toilet. I had to hold in my sludge for hours, as did Drody and his fiancee.
We wound up going to Circuit City because they're going out of business and everything in the store had to go. We stopped at a fastfood place on the way to use the bathroom because when a person can't go in their own home, they still have to go somewhere. At Circuit City, all the yinzers that had been at the strip buying Stiller merchandise on Saturday were now at Circuit City buying plasma televisions to watch the Stillers on, while wearing their newly purchased Stiller merchandise. Midas apparently was still at work, touching everything.
There's been dirt in America's toilet for years. Places like western Pennsylvania, Ohio, Detroit, and upstate New York have been calling their landlords for decades, but Washington was too busy helping Wall Street make sure their burgers had ketchup. "Anticipation, anticipation/ it's makin' me late/ is makin' me wait." After hearing Obama's inauguration address and witnessing his first two weeks in office, I hope that the wait for some of America's heartland to be dug out of a cave in is finally over. I hope the fact that Picksburgh lies where three rivers meet allows it to adapt for the 21st century. I hope this is the last time the dirt in the toilet lesson needs to be learned by landlords. I hope that after the Seven Years' War, two World Wars, and multiple global economic crises our leaders realize that Midas touches everything from ketchup bottles to coal mines, from water pipes to rivers, from flea markets to Circuit City, from Pennsylvania's winter sludge to Arizona's deserts, and from Main Street to Wall Street and back again.
I also realize that even though Picksburgh already has 5 Super Bowl trophies and Arizona has none that this game tonight probably does mean more to Stiller fans, as Drody observes, "what happens to this city if they don't win?" I stayed there for only 3 nights and found myself taking pride in the fact I wore shorts to bed, so you tell me what Picksburgh would be without a good football team.
Time Waster: Time to vote
In barack obama, In Go vote, In John McCain, In Langston, In timewastersNovember 4, 2008
Its the day that we finally get rid of these terrible election commercials. I am just ready for this all to be finished with. Especially with people regurgitating the same issues over and over; i.e. guns, religion, alien attacks, education, gay marriage, the war, legalization of seal clubbing, oil, the recession, etc. etc. Although I am excited to find out who the next President, I just wanted to implore you to enjoy in one of the most American things you can partake in, voting. It is an important part of enjoying your rights as a member of the free world. It comes in fourth in the list of the most American things you can do; just after paying taxes, watching baseball, and making meth. Its also one of your civic duties, so ..um... yeah go vote already.
I also wanted to ask you to do one just more thing. Watch this video and follow its instructions carefully. It may just change your life.
Video is NSFW for language
I also wanted to ask you to do one just more thing. Watch this video and follow its instructions carefully. It may just change your life.
Video is NSFW for language
Link Scrap
In barack obama, In John McCain, In Langston, In link scrap, In NCAA, In NFL, In Presidential ElectionOctober 16, 2008
Awful Announcing: Obama campaign ad to delay start of game six of the World Series, oh and the ad spot is 30 minutes long.
Deadspin:Brent Musburger offers some troubling news about Joe Paterno, that Paterno admitted he's afraid he'll keel over once he retires.
Kissing Suzy Kolber: Emmit Smith analyzes the two Presidential candidates before the debate. Nevermind that the debate was last night, its the funniest thing I have read in at least the last month.
Shutdown Corner: They have a breakdown of the cat fight between Troy Aikman and Boomer Esiason.
Deadspin:Brent Musburger offers some troubling news about Joe Paterno, that Paterno admitted he's afraid he'll keel over once he retires.
Kissing Suzy Kolber: Emmit Smith analyzes the two Presidential candidates before the debate. Nevermind that the debate was last night, its the funniest thing I have read in at least the last month.
Shutdown Corner: They have a breakdown of the cat fight between Troy Aikman and Boomer Esiason.
Georgia vs. Alabama, JMU football and IHOP, who shouldn't vote on election day, and Paul Newman
In barack obama, In Blackout, In College football, In Cool Hand Luke, In Dawgs, In Georgia, In IHOP, In JMU, In Paul Newman, In Stan Yuengling, In Teach, In UGASeptember 27, 2008
This post will either be brief or turn into a rambling tirade that goes on forever....
Of course, I am a bit worried that all the experts seem to be picking Georgia. Can a game of this magnitude be that easy of a pick?
__________________
Last weekend, I refereed a flip cup tournament in DC. I got paid fifty bucks to do so, and all my drinks during my time as ref were free; but I did fail to become the Ed Hochuli of flip cup refs. Anyway, after the tournament, I headed to Ballston, in Arlington, where I was meeting other JMU alumnae for their top five showdown with #1 Appalachian St.
Bailey's was full of purple and gold fans. The atmosphere was incredible, like being at Bridgeforth Stadium. The Dukes came back from 21 down to knock off the top team in college football's cul de sac division, a fitting title for this division because the only people who care about it are those who live on it--it leads no where, except to this 25 year old stealing syrup from IHOP.
After a night of football and debauchery, some friends and I wound up at the Ballston IHOP. The time is not important here. I ordered the Country Omelet, stating to the waitress, "since I'm from the country and not the city." I then came up with the genius idea to save my pancakes that came with the omelet for breakfast the next day, but Stan Yuengling doesn't have syrup at his apartment; so I put a whole plastic IHOP bottle of syrup in a styrofoam box of pancakes. I also took the precaution of texting myself the word "pancakes," so I wouldn't forget to eat them the next day. The problem here is I opened this text, thinking someone else had texted me. The next morning I had no reminder or memory of this fantastic treasure I had buried in Stan's fridge because I erased the "X" on my treasure map.
Last night, Stan's over at my place and asks when I'm coming to get my pancakes, which brings up a serious dilemma.
JMU plays Maine tonight around 6. Georgia plays Alabama around 8 or so, but Obama and Biden are speaking in Fredericksburg around 6 I believe; so do I follow my bleeding liberal heart south or my pancake-beer-loving-stomach north?
________________
People who vote in college football polls should not be allowed to vote come November. Georgia was ranked #1 at the beginning of the year and has won all of their games so far. USC beat a pathetic UVA team the first week of the season and rocketed to number one. All the pundits kept talking about how this UVA team had been to the Gator Bowl and won 9 games last year, but they somehow forgot to mention that UVA's quarterback from last year was kicked out of school and that all of those 9 wins were by an average of 0.0000000124 points. These people need to quit voting on style points, NFL potential, and tradition. Let the teams play, and if stunts like this are going to happen, then either don't have preseason rankings or go to a playoff format.
Further proof of what I'm talking about...
__________________
R.I.P. Paul Newman...I hope to write something proper in the next week....
He was an amazing performer and human being. There is no comparison past or present.
First, I am extremely excited about tonight's game between Georgia and Alabama. Coach Richt has given permission for the blackout, and the game is at night. Imagine the visual, not only will Saban's boys look like they're playing against the eleven UGA players on the field, the players on the sideline, and all the people in Sanford Stadium, but they will appear to be up against the night itself. "Two ships passed in the night," and one got rocked. Georgia wins.
Of course, I am a bit worried that all the experts seem to be picking Georgia. Can a game of this magnitude be that easy of a pick?
__________________
Last weekend, I refereed a flip cup tournament in DC. I got paid fifty bucks to do so, and all my drinks during my time as ref were free; but I did fail to become the Ed Hochuli of flip cup refs. Anyway, after the tournament, I headed to Ballston, in Arlington, where I was meeting other JMU alumnae for their top five showdown with #1 Appalachian St.
Bailey's was full of purple and gold fans. The atmosphere was incredible, like being at Bridgeforth Stadium. The Dukes came back from 21 down to knock off the top team in college football's cul de sac division, a fitting title for this division because the only people who care about it are those who live on it--it leads no where, except to this 25 year old stealing syrup from IHOP.
After a night of football and debauchery, some friends and I wound up at the Ballston IHOP. The time is not important here. I ordered the Country Omelet, stating to the waitress, "since I'm from the country and not the city." I then came up with the genius idea to save my pancakes that came with the omelet for breakfast the next day, but Stan Yuengling doesn't have syrup at his apartment; so I put a whole plastic IHOP bottle of syrup in a styrofoam box of pancakes. I also took the precaution of texting myself the word "pancakes," so I wouldn't forget to eat them the next day. The problem here is I opened this text, thinking someone else had texted me. The next morning I had no reminder or memory of this fantastic treasure I had buried in Stan's fridge because I erased the "X" on my treasure map.
Last night, Stan's over at my place and asks when I'm coming to get my pancakes, which brings up a serious dilemma.
JMU plays Maine tonight around 6. Georgia plays Alabama around 8 or so, but Obama and Biden are speaking in Fredericksburg around 6 I believe; so do I follow my bleeding liberal heart south or my pancake-beer-loving-stomach north?
________________
People who vote in college football polls should not be allowed to vote come November. Georgia was ranked #1 at the beginning of the year and has won all of their games so far. USC beat a pathetic UVA team the first week of the season and rocketed to number one. All the pundits kept talking about how this UVA team had been to the Gator Bowl and won 9 games last year, but they somehow forgot to mention that UVA's quarterback from last year was kicked out of school and that all of those 9 wins were by an average of 0.0000000124 points. These people need to quit voting on style points, NFL potential, and tradition. Let the teams play, and if stunts like this are going to happen, then either don't have preseason rankings or go to a playoff format.
Further proof of what I'm talking about...
__________________
R.I.P. Paul Newman...I hope to write something proper in the next week....
He was an amazing performer and human being. There is no comparison past or present.
John McCain Interview on ESPN
In barack obama, In Bob Ley, In ESPN, In John McCain, In Langston, In Stuart ScottSeptember 16, 2008
A couple weeks ago we posted the interview of Barack Obama on ESPN. Bob Ley recently caught up with Presidential nominee John McCain for an interview. The interview aired today on "Sportscenter." Here it is thanks to Awful Announcing
In my opinion, Bob Ley really should have done both interviews. Even when he is throwing softballs he does it skillfully, and that is an attribute Stuart Scott has never really attained.
In my opinion, Bob Ley really should have done both interviews. Even when he is throwing softballs he does it skillfully, and that is an attribute Stuart Scott has never really attained.
Greg Oden "This one is for the ladies"
In bad music, In barack obama, In good music, In Greg Oden, In Langston, In live music, In music, In NBA, In Portland, In TrailblazersSeptember 10, 2008
Greg Oden has everything; skills on the court, money, women(they always follow), and he can sing. Ok he can't sing, but here is video of him doing it anyway.
My Great Grandfather told me a story of how he actually got to meet Greg Oden, it was at a campaign rally in Chicago when Oden was stumping for Woodrow Wilson.
As seen on Hard for the Yard
My Great Grandfather told me a story of how he actually got to meet Greg Oden, it was at a campaign rally in Chicago when Oden was stumping for Woodrow Wilson.
As seen on Hard for the Yard
Barack Obama interviewed on ESPN
In barack obama, In ESPN, In Langston, In politics, In sportscenter, In timewastersAugust 26, 2008
Last night on "Sportscenter" they aired a Stuart Scott interview with Presidential nominee Barack Obama. Here it is, thanks to Awful Announcing
Personally I like my sports separate from my politics. I think it is interesting that they chose Scott for the interview, as there are a lot of other reporters who would not hesitate to ask a serious question IE Jeremy Schapp. Obama gave the typical cookie cutter answers but calls out Cub fans for being of the fair weather variety. I think the numbers would disagree with the Senator, as the Cubs sell 99.1 % of their tickets to the White Sox 75.8%. The Cubs are routinely selling out year in and out, as the White Sox only sold 54% of their tickets in 2003. I know Wrigley is a big factor, but how can you defend only selling 54% of your tickets especially for a team that went 86-76?
The McCain interview is in the works and should be coming soon.
Personally I like my sports separate from my politics. I think it is interesting that they chose Scott for the interview, as there are a lot of other reporters who would not hesitate to ask a serious question IE Jeremy Schapp. Obama gave the typical cookie cutter answers but calls out Cub fans for being of the fair weather variety. I think the numbers would disagree with the Senator, as the Cubs sell 99.1 % of their tickets to the White Sox 75.8%. The Cubs are routinely selling out year in and out, as the White Sox only sold 54% of their tickets in 2003. I know Wrigley is a big factor, but how can you defend only selling 54% of your tickets especially for a team that went 86-76?
The McCain interview is in the works and should be coming soon.
Time Wasters- Politco Edition
In barack obama, In hillary clinton, In Langston, In timewastersJune 12, 2008
The first time waster of the day is the Obama "Witness" commercial a la Lebron James.
The second is SNLs take on ABCs playoff commerical "There can only be one" with Barack and Hillary.
And an old skit from Madtv.
Have a great day.
The second is SNLs take on ABCs playoff commerical "There can only be one" with Barack and Hillary.
And an old skit from Madtv.
Have a great day.
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