Here

Painted portraits of Minions and Slaves...

Crotch Mavens in One Night Plays.

Stolen Rims...

Are They Allow or Chrome.

The Empire Strikes Back

Test

Travels and Frustrations.

This week, like most weeks starts in Jackson.

It will end, Lord willing, right back here in Jackson. Between then and now, I will be in Ocean Springs tonight (just right of the bottom most I-10 sign)...back to Jackson tomorrow evening. Then I'll head up to Greenwood in the Delta (follow 49 north from Jackson)...From there I'll get up on Thursday morning and drive to Memphis (straight up 55). 

Last week I was on the North Shore in Slidell...down in New Orleans...Westbank.

I happen to love this song so,...enjoy but, for our purposes the video is what matters. The opening scenes are the very sorts of places that I work. The curb stores and groceries that are written about here...the neighborhoods.

Of course, if you're interested you'll have to get direct from Youtube...I've never come across a video that was so hard to access. It's certainly in keeping with general frustration I'm having with technology lately.

I haven't necessarily been avoiding the blog but, the Reader issue and the fact that I'm getting 300 visits a  day...150 of which are dubious...is irritating. Part of that, I have deduced, is because Dino Dan has come to the UK...that thread's gone back up to 100 visits a day almost all from the British Isles. The others are from the Ukraine and Laos...Indonesia.

It's killing my buzz man.

They Didn't Know It.

Hey I know this is off topic$

It consists of fastidious stuff/
In reality was an amusement account/
Hard currency Canada/

Authored material stylish/
Media is an enormous source of information/
Take it with aphrodisiac/

I really found you by error/
Everyone deserves to get the love/
My spouse and I stumbled...here/

Binary options Canada/
Attractive section of content/
I simply could not go away/

I will certainly return.

Attractive section of content/
Data of un-ambiguity/

I will certainly return.

Attractive section of content/
Fastidious stuff.

I simply could not go away.

Spam!

Why Did Lincoln Invade The South?

Because everybody was high.

That's what I was told yesterday.

We stopped at a curb store in Crystal Springs so my buddy could take an order. While he typed I got up to get coffee. At the urn was an older black man stirring cream into his cup.

"You know that was the worses war of all."

"Sir?"

"They said that was more people killed than all them other wars put together."

"Which war?"

"Well," he held out his right hand and pointed to a finger with his left as he explained, "they had the Conferararcy...and the North. It was turrable...they shot mothers, brothers, sisters. They shot up e'erybody. It was right here...they shot up e'everybody here."

"Yes sir. My people fought in the War."

"I ain't sayin' they didn't had cururash...they had cururash but, if people woulda just had a thought...they coulda stopped that war...but, when you smoke that grass you don't curr 'bout nothin'."

Lincoln got his war because everybody was too stoned to stop him.

If This Doesn't Work...

I'm gonna be so mad I could eat a cupcake!

My reader still hasn't updated. Delta Mobile is still up as my latest post.

If this one doesn't pop up...well...nothing. I guess I'll just stop worrying about it. I'm sure as hell not monkeying with anything else.

New post

Turns out I'm not much better with stationary technology either. I posted something this morning that is stubbornly refusing to show up in my reader...even the bots and spammers haven't hit it yet.

Maybe by crook we can drag it out.

IMBUBHISO!

"Roll to your rifle...blow out yer brains/And go to yer God like a soldier"

Last night, on the dinner table, there occurred one of those incidents that will surely be listed among the most glorious episodes in the annals of British Arms...an entire regiment of the Queen's finest were utterly destroyed by a Zulu impi.

I don't care what anybody tells you...parenting is a grind. Sometimes you have to take half a day off work just to watch a 30 minute school program (which may include a hip hop version of Happy Birthday...Jesus). You have to stand by and just watch as he gets old enough to take over your household chores....and, sometimes, grown man though you may be, you have to play with your son's toy soldiers. So with a six inch ruler and a random dice generator pulled up on the phone, I grudgingly set about doing my duty as a Daddy.


As is normally the case, things started out well for the British. A screen of Natal Native Cavalry got in several licks before being overrun and annihilated. The one artillery battery played hell on the Zulu center...knocking 'em down in clumps.

Soon the Zulus were in range of the British rifles. Between the steady marksmanship of the infantry and the crude carnage of the gun the Zulus were taking an awful beating. Still, they came. They're Zulu's after all.

Contact!*

It was a badly mauled, but determined and angry, bunch of Zulus that finally got their hands on the British infantry. Normally this is where things would go horribly wrong for anybody who wasn't a Zulu but, as we've seen, their numbers had been considerably reduced. The infantry were holding their own in hand to hand combat. There was an untouched British unit in the center as one group of Zulus had peeled off to attack the artillery.

The whole thing was in danger of being a British victory and therefore forgotten to history. It was at this point that umBlake, commander of the Zulu impi, decided that all of his forces had not yet been committed to battle. It was time for the second wave of Zulus. So we recycled some of the dead warriors to form a new unit. The question was...where would they appear? Would it be the loin or one of the horns. We turned to the dice...

Bloody &%*$!!!!

It was the Right Horn! All over but the shoutin', Col. Blake, commander of the British forces, did what he could. It wasn't much. He turned the uncommitted unit of infantry and the artillery to face the onslaught. They were slaughtered. The regiment disintegrated into small groups of soldiers gallantly resisting the inevitable...tiny red islands being swallowed by a relentless brown tide.

The Glorious End

Surprisingly, given the erzatz nature of the rules, we got a fairly historical result. 

Of course, the Boy wants to do it again. My work is never done. I'm gonna have to buy more soldiers for him...proper cavalry and naval ratings...and "23 hundred and 45 boxes of Zulus."

It's a hard row to hoe...being a Daddy.

*Ignore the large group of stetsoned tan fellas in the back...Native Contingent. Depending on who you ask, they hoofed it because they were cowards or, they figured being slaughtered for the white interlopers wasn't they way they wanted to end their day.

  

Is That All You Got?!?*

When I was in the 6th grade, I got a bicycle for Christmas...a ten speed bicycle. Yeah that turned out to be a disaster.

It's not because I was uncoordinated. Please. I played golf...played football, arm-wrastled grown men and entered my self into dog fights. I wore a cobra snake for a neck tie...My parents used me for alligator bait and I washed my face in a frying pan...OK?

Let's face it, I was a bad a**! Still am. Deal with it Haters!

But...but, as those of you who know me personally can attest, I was, and have always been, wholly unequipped to deal with any kind of machine or gadget. In this case, a gear box for a ten speed bike.

After a couple of passes through the neighborhood, I figured out that high gears were good for going up hill..it was easier to pedal. Then I discovered that the low gears could be used to gain traction going down hill...meaning I could go faster than gravity.

Can y'all see where I'm going with this?

I came up with a plan to break the Truck Route up-hill land speed record. I'd start on the top of one hill using the low gears to pick up maximum down hill speed. Once I reached the bottom of the bowl I'd shift into high gear and pick up a blinding rpm for the up turn. All very logical...how could it fail?

It failed at about 55 miles an hour, as I flipped the gear switch to first. The failure was almost immediate and it was complete. The pedals, now spinning without resistance, picked up enough speed to bust an atom. My feet were flung off the bike and for a second it vibrated but continued to pick up speed...then there was a wobble and a flash and piercing, head caving, pain.

I don't remember anything between that moment and opening my eyes onto the ceiling of our back deck. I'd been moved there by my mother and the Sister...who was about five at the time. Santy Clause had brought her a plastic doctor's kit for Christmas. Thankfully she was able to fit me into her schedule.




She wasn't nearly as busy back then.

I had ripped the skin on my right knee down to the cap, left a hunk of my shoulder on the asphalt and knocked halfa front tooth out. I still have big nasty scars on my knee and shoulder. For thirty years, up until last week, my broken tooth had been capped. That was before I had the temerity to bite into a soggy spring roll last Wednesday night.

Sexy? Like a mole on a super model maybe?

 So, it's off to the dentist for me where I will get high as Cooter Brown on gas and listen to Roxy Music. They'll give me some hillbilly heroin on the way out the door.

Unless y'all think I should leave it.

Up Next...The Special Needs Relationship: Part Two, Can't Get Back There From Here

*The title actually has nothing to do with this post...it was intended for another. Sue me.

Local News Break - Idiots with Flags

The Confederate Cemetery at Aberdeen.

Really Y'all?

The trash has been taken out and, will most likely, be disposed of on the next chilly night.

Just stop it.

The Special Needs Relationship - Interlude

You're Twistin' My Melon Man.

 

 

The Vaselines...the Raincoats....David Bowie....



It's fairly straight forward to start then...cucucucucumber. Ha.



Treepeople was Doug Martsch band before Built to Spill (it's perhaps an indictment against the lo-fi/indie/whatever scene of the 90's that Built to Spill was as popular as they were).



One for the careful readers. :)



As usual it's squal that matters with Dinosaur Jr.



Nice accent Harvard Yard.



Couldn't resist.
 

The Special Needs Relationship - Part One

What follows is C's fault...for posting the bit about Suede.

This is the Londoner Grill in Baton Rouge, Louisiana on Sherwood Forest Blvd. across from the Celtic Center. I took this photo while I was staying in Denham Springs because I had business in Scotlandville.

Last night I found my self watching Live Forever: The Rise and Fall of Britpop...for like the sixth time. It weren't any better this time than it was the other five. I'm just easily distracted...easily amused and obsessive. So there you are. I was trying to find a clip of Suede's performance at the Brit Awards in 93....Animal Nitrate. It's been blocked on You Tube by BPI but, I thought I had seen it in Live Forever. I was wrong. In fact, Suede are given pretty short shrift...reduced in significance to a magazine cover. The film ought to be called Live Forever: The Rise and Fall of Oasis and Some Other Bands that Owe Their Existence to James Brown (the puffed up editor of Loaded magazine, not Macon, Georgia's own God Father of Soul).

They could just have easily called it How the Idea of America Manipulates the British Pop Psyche.

For our purposes the discussion begins with Jon Savage...

"The Pendulum (in the early 90's) had swung back to America. There's always this tic-toc, tic-toc, between the U.S. and the U.K. At least in the U.K. Often in America they don't give a toss about what's going on in the U.K."

And continues in part two...


(the usual warning about language when hearing from with these potty mouths)

The Elephant in the Room or How Americans Will Dance to Anything by Day-Pesh-Kamode

e.f. bartlam

To my mind, some obvious questions arise in those passages from Live Forever.  We're gonna get 'em sorted out...sussed if you like. None of them has to do with the sentiment of resentment toward American culture expressed by Jon Savage, James Brown, et al. as a matter of historical fact. Besides you can't argue with sentiment...sentiment just is. What we will try to do is address certain issues...one, what is American Culture? That might seem an impossible question to answer in a few paragraphs. It's not. Believe me it's doable. We'll talk about Budweiser.

Two, what does it actually mean to "Make it in America?" This seems to be a recurring issue with certain bands or elements of the British music papers. We may not be able to come up with a definitive answer to that question but, I think we can add emphasis to elements of it that are often overlooked. We'll listen to Band of Skulls do a Ford commercial (we may have to digress at this point and explain that Ford is not actually a British car maker).

Three, is it true that Americans don't normally give a toss about what goes on in British popular culture? I think by answering the first two question it will become obvious that Americans do...that Britain wields a tremendous influence in America. It's not exactly the same as wielding influence over the culture but, it's pretty hard to shape something that barely exists...and to the extent that it does exist, does so under extremely rigid parameters. /

Here is where I should say something about football...just to irritate Kibber but, one of the reasons I'm hiding this post in ridiculous, pretentious "fancy dress" is that there is no football right now and I'm bored out of my freaking mind.

Go Gators...six months from now.

I should also say a word about terminology. Those of you who read this blog know that I have no allegiance to this ridiculous notion of America (me and Spliff call it The Imperial Construct of America)...I'm a Southron and y'all know this. Making that distinction is not necessary, except where it is necessary, in the following discussion. So enjoy the rare instance where I will be including myself, and my people, among these other ragamuffins.

Also, also...we should get Canada out of the way before proceeding. We are honored to have, here at Flimsy Cups, Canada's greatest export..Spliff (aka Dread Pirate Jessica). You can read her thoughts and, if you're lucky, interact with her here on these pages. Nothing more need be said about that.

To be continued...

Cleveland, Mississippi

I know Adamparsons...red phone booths and double-decker buses. We're dealing, to a certain extent, in generalizations and stereotypes. Don't get your Bowler in a bunch. Go eat a crumpet and settle it down.

Swamp Rat

That's where I grew up y'all. 

I mean I lived in a house...went to school and church in buildings but, this is where I spent at least half of my childhood. It's Lake Cascade. We lived on Cascade Dr...a small neighborhood, that came off the truck route, made a loop along one shore of the lake and then back out.

This is where we played. When I was little, I got at least two whoppins for goin' down there without supervision. We found a dead gator down there one time...he'd been shot and hacked up. There was a baby gator that lived in one the pools around the lake. Seemed like he stayed on the same stump for a year. 

Of course, the place was the natural habitat of our arch enemy, Satan's charm bracelet...

.

I guess we just tried not to think about him.  There was a little island in the lake that was said to be so covered with Cotton Mouths that if you looked hard enough you could see it wriggling. Maybe it was a defensive mechanism...mentally we put them all out on the island. I did watch a fella kill one in the water with a bow. That was pretty cool...back to hell you go.

There were big, high banked ditches...like canals that would connect some of the pools with the lake...we never went in those. That was a strip of black water running between 6ft  walls of roots and holes. We did swim in the lake though. Out towards the middle of the lake there was a homemade diving platform built in group of cypress trees. One of my fondest memories is being out there with my brothers and their friends. I was still wearing the bubble (an egg shaped piece of styrofoam with canvas straps that chaffed and dug into my under arms)...so, I must have still been pretty little. They were trying to get me to jump off into the water. At my size it looked like were were 50ft in the air. They finally bribed me into it by promising that I could be the first to kiss Daddy when he got home from work. It was quite a race to meet him at his car in the evenings...with my tiny legs I didn't stand a chance.

One day, me and a buddy of mine come up on a fella that nearly drowned. His canoe had turned over and he couldn't swim. We helped him in the last few feet. It had to be a strange scene...two ten year olds draggin' a grown, gasping man out of a foot and a half of water. The most absurd part was that, except over sink holes, the water never really got that deep. He could have bounced off the lake bed from 100 ft out. 

It dried up every couple of years...or drained. Sink holes would drain it. The other side of the lake was near wilderness. It was crisscrossed with dirt roads...and pocked with sinkholes. Sink holes are just creepy. A perfect cone, about 150ft across and down to a pool of jet black water. Every once in a while they'll crack open in a populated area. Gainesville had a couple of big ones open up in the middle of town.

You can see the waterline on the cypress but, obviously this was taken after a long dry spell.

In its Glory.

The little cinder block house we lived in is gone now. In fact almost all the houses are gone now. The airport bought up most of the neighborhood years ago. It wasn't a fancy place to start with and now it's gone back to wilderness. 

Probably overrun with *&^^%% Cottonmouths.

Crazy, Sexy, Cool Butt Texts

Friday night, as Martha and I sat on the couch, tryin' to get reaquainted after bein' apart for almost a week, we heard the familiar BE-Dink of a text message notification. We didn't recognize the number or...

Damn!

Rather than call the police to warn them that the city of Jackson was in for serious trouble that night...we told 'em to rock it.

Because any excuse to play TLC is sufficient...

Throw ya lighters up for Left Eye!

Let it go Punk

Where I drink beer, smoke cigarettes, try to catch up on promised posts...and fail.





Creeeeeepy.



Despite it all...it's still a great song. The point, which I'm not sure I ever really got around to was this...the cause orientation of the Clash seemed to fly in the face of what Punk might have been.

What we should have talked about was Mick Jones utter failure as a dancer.



Pretty Vacant is the money...although, I've recently been disappointed to discover that the line which I thought brilliantly read..."I don't believe in illusion/'cause too much ain't for real"...is actually "too much is for real." Boo. Still, I'd rather hear EMI.

Anyway...you can decide whether we're caught up or not.

How Do you Stop Random Shootings Up North?

By overcoming Southern Culture...of course.

REP. RANGEL (D-NY): New York is different and more progressive than a lot of areas in other states, and some of the Southern areas have cultures that we have to overcome.

Hey Chuck...we shoot Ducks, Deer, Turkey and people we know. We are not shooting up your malls, your movie theaters and we sure as hell aren't shooting little kids.

You people are different alright.

One of the very first school shootings, back in the mid-90s, was here in Jackson. It was stopped by an assistant principal with a pistol...one that he may or my not have been authorized to carry. Around this time, there was another schooting in Arkansas. Since then, in Mississippi and the surounding states there have been zero.

We don't do random killings in The Deep South. There are too many people we know that need killin' to go on targetless shooting sprees.



We don't, as general rule, do serial killers either. We are violent. Our murder rates have always been as relatively high as our suicide rates have been relatively low. We have some horrific killings...a man kidnaps his family and kills them because his wife left him, a man kills his brother's family over property, a black man that has been in the employ of a notorious White Supremacist (transplanted Yankee by the way) burns the whitey's trailer down...with him in it.

We are not innocent people. There's a kind of code that governs most violence. It's been noted. Thomas Sowell's Black Rednecks and White Liberals is last piece that comes to my mind. He explained violence in the Black community as an inherited cultural trait picked up from white Southerners...who had brought it with them from Northern England.  To this point, how many black serial killers and spree shooters can you think of.



Then there's just plain crime...we have a lot of that too. We are, generally speaking rowdy, ungovernable, violent people but, when it comes to gunning down little children, we aren't your problem.



I know this has the potential to get as rude as rude talk can be. I have always tried keep this place open for various ideas...if you want to go off on guns GO OFF. The only thing that will cause me to lose my manners is on issues of Southern Culture (sadly we've lost a reader over this...I let down my upbringing and forgot my duties as a host). Having said that, if you want to blame The South...go for it. It'll be a more rowdy conversation than usual but, please feel free to express yourself here.

Radio Grown Folks: Local Radio

Y'all know I spend a lot of time on the road...and if you're a careful reader you know I do a lotta diggin' on the radio. I've got my i-tunes but, nothin' beats a pleasant surprise.



One of the great things about being in Mississippi is that more often than not, the best things to come across the airwaves are the local products.



It's been almost a complete shutout in last few days as I've crisscrossed the fish bowl that this part of the world has become.

Not just songs either...Jerry Clower will often get some air time, in a city with any traffic, around rush hour. An obvious attempt to curb people's nerves...which, when you consider the amount of traffic we're talking about, demonstrates just how low the tolerance for interference of any kind is around here.



They broke mold...lotta broke molds around here.



We end with an appropriate highlight...we are sleeping in Slidell, Louisiana after all.

The War Muddles On.

"There is a class of people (in the South, among whom your author's kin were included), men women and children, who must be killed or banished before you can hope for peace and order."Genral Sherman to Thomas Ewing (Order #11)

A curious pehnomenon occurs after and around every election in this country. Whether the Yankee Statist wins, loses or draws, he turns his attention to The South...to bitterly damn our existence or, rejoice in our immenent extiction.

Welcome to the new Civil War

"On a repeat viewing of Steven Spielberg’s “Lincoln” over the New Year’s holiday, a scene I had barely noticed the first time jumped out at me. Confederate vice-president Alexander Stephens (played with reptilian gentility by Jackie Earle Haley), in a secret meeting aboard a steamboat with Abraham Lincoln and Secretary of State William Seward, faces up to the reality that the era of slavery has come to an end. Ratification of the 13th Amendment, Stephens muses, will destroy the basis of the Southern economy and the South’s traditional way of life. “We won’t know ourselves anymore,” he says.

"If only it had been so."  Andrew O'Hehir

Sorry about yer luck prick...but, we're still here and I'm raising one just like me. Of course, all I want, all he will want, all my fathers have wanted for generations is to be free of any and all connection with you....and your empire. We don't care how you live your life because we don't think about you...except to the extent that we are forced to continue in the political process of this ridiculous construct you call the United States.  Sorry, Andy...as long as we have to be here we aren't just going to shut our mouths until you want to hear a story or a bit of song.

For Andy Southern culture isn't really a culture at all...it's just a corporate expression of racism and bigotry. What was actually done to the South was less than we deserved...

Look to the South and you who went with us through that land can best say if they have not been fearfully punished. Mourning is in every household, desolation written in broad characters across the whole face of their country, cities in ashes and fields laid waste, their commerce gone, their system of labor annihilated and destroyed. Ruin and poverty and distress everywhere, and now pestilence adding to the very cap sheaf of their stack of misery.
Sherman

Southern Discomfort

Take heart Andy, according to George Parker we are once again on the verge of extinction...but, beware

Northern liberals should not be too quick to cheer, though. At the end of “The Mind of the South,” Cash has this description of “the South at its best”: “proud, brave, honorable by its lights, courteous, personally generous, loyal.” These remain qualities that the rest of the country needs and often calls on. The South’s vices—“violence, intolerance, aversion and suspicion toward new ideas”—grow particularly acute during periods when it is marginalized and left behind. An estrangement between the South and the rest of the country would bring out the worst in both—dangerous insularity in the first, smug self-deception in the second.*

Again...as long as they smile and dance for you they're fine but, they are still under the delusion that they have some say in the affairs of the country.

Let me put this as clearly and as literally as I can (the only way to be understood among these, rootless, block headed, bell ends). We have tried to separate ourselves from you before and you responded by trying to exterminate Us. You failed. You have failed repeatedly. Why do you persist in this failed endevour when all we want is to be shed of you...and your absurd, greedy, warmonger, self-rightous, culturless, loud, obnoxious country?

*Interesting that the auther relies so heavily on Cash.  If he had written "The Mind of India" rather than the "Southern Mind," Cash would already and rightly have been thrown on the trash heap of Orientilists but, because he wrote it for the U.S. Empire...he's still lauded.

If you doubt me read the contemporary critique of his work by Donald Davidson...where he rips Cash a brand new, two story, brick, two-car garage, asshole....decades before Edward Said picked up his first rock for the cameras.

They've Dealt With Yer Kind Before

Irish!



It's Here...2013 BCS National Championship Game.

The Alabama Crimson Tide v. The Notre Dame Fighting Irish.

ND wins the toss..defers. Alabama will start on offense.

Huge gain for Bama...Norwood picks up 30 on the pass.

It's early but, it's already looking bad for ND...Lacey just bull rushed for 10 and a first down. Topped off with a facemask penalty.

Off sides Notre Dame...they better settle down or this could get ugly in about 10 minutes.

If you're wondering where the Gators have been...we will discuss their vile performance in the Sugar Bowl at half-time.

Oh by the way, Alabama just bulldozed their way into the endzone! If this is any indication of where ND is...they are cooked.

ND comes out throwing. If there's a weakness, weakness being relative, in the Bama defense it's the secondary.

That's a close one but, ND shouldn't have had to call a time out to have it reviewed. It'll be a first down or a punt for Notre Dame.

It's a yard rule Irish...stop whining. You can't be all up in his grill.

Alabama is rumbling all over the Notre Dame D.

That was a good play for ND secondary but, he was wide open...and McCarron had all night to throw the ball.

First Down Alabama.

Shoestring tackle on Lacey...or it would be 14 ...Wait a minute IT IS 14 - NIL.

It's still early but, this is ugly.

He was down. It'll be ND ball.

ND's ball. No fumble.

Notre Dame punts the ball.

Notre Dame has given up, on average, 11 points a game...Alabama has run 18 plays and has 14 points. right now they're moving the ball at will.

Notre Dame finally get's Alabama in a 3rd and long-ish...they just drop a 20 yard pass on 'em. Second and goal from the two yard line.

Notre Dame has brought a football team to a Tank Battle...Alabama Crimson Tide 21 effortless points...notre dame Nothin'.

This is silly.

Two good stops by the Irish but...how long can Alabama maintain an edge?

Alabama might actually have to punt. They will.

One good run for ND...then boom.

ND punts.

Now we just watch and see how long Alabama can maintain the pace.

It just took about 6 ND defenders to tackle Lacey and he threw the first one down WWF style.

Even when Alabama has to punt it ends up being a highlight.

It's kinda settled into ND trying to get something...anything going.

That was there best chance to convert a third down...Bama dropped 'em for about a five yard loss. Hopefully Alabama can get it going again...and put another seven on the board.

Alabama is just stoopid strong.

What a catch by Jones...pitch and catch.

This is an assault. The cops might show up and put a stop to this. Alabama 28 - ND Nothing.

McCarron to Jones...hand it to Lacey...hand it to Yeldon...whatever it's a massacre.

Sideline reporter asked the Notre Dame coach could be done to change this in the second half. He says, "get Alabama not to come out for the second half."

Notre Dame has come out throwing the ball...they've picked up a few first downs.

They tossed it around long enough for Bama to pick the ball off.

Lacey might as well be swinging a sledge hammer out there...he is punishing people. Literally.

Touchdown Alabama...they just drove the ball 97 yards like a Sunday stroll. Alabama 35..ND Nothing.

Words like "embarrassment" are being tossed around now...it's still the 3rd quarter. It's been on the tip of everybody's tongue since the first drive.

Some of what we were treated to leading up to the game, and make no mistake it was directed at all of us...

ND finally gets into the endzone...yawn.

This is just ridiculous...Alabama picks up a first down. It's called back because of hold. They just pick it right back up on the next play. It's academic at this point...the more Alabama runs the ball...the more tired the ND defense gets...the easier it is to run. This is not a football game it's a clinic.

End of the Third Quarter...Alabama Crimson Tsunami 35 (and moving)...Notre Dame 7.

McCarron to Cooper...Alabama 42 - ND 7.

Herb Herbstriet, one of the announcers was heard, as they cut away to commercial, "I can just hear those SEC fans around the country."

SEC SEC SEC SEC SEC...that's what he's hearing. Let's face...LSU dropped the ball in the Peach Bowl and Florida made absolute asses of themselves in the Sugar Bowl but, it's the SEC and and everybody else.

SEVEN NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIPS in a row...Georgia lost the SEC championship at the 6 yard line, Texas A&M beat Alabama at home. The National Championship is played in Atlanta.

Finally some action...the Alabama players are starting to fight with one another. They're up by 28 points but they're still so jacked up they're squabbling.

Put it in the books...Alabama 42 - notre dame 14. The score looks a lot closer than it actually was. One of the most lopsided games I've ever seen.

Roll Tide!

SEC SEC SEC SEC SEC...