I know most of y'all don't care about football....but, I assume that everybody cares to some extent about justice. What happened yesterday during the South Carolina - Michigan game was an example of the Cosmic kind.
Without bogging down into minutia, a team has four downs (or tries) to move the ball ten yards. If they are successful...they get a new set of four downs. The ten yard distance that a team must move is kept by a chain with a pole on each end.
Look closely there...is that ball at the end of the chain? No it is not but, Michigan, on fourth down, was awarded a fresh set of downs based on that spot.
Bull S**T is the only way to describe it. Steve Spurrier went berserk...the announcer was flabbergasted, "nobody would call that a first down." For all the complaining that fans do about officiating, it's rare to have such a blatant example of incompetence or worse.
By all rights, signs, runes, tea leaves and flash polls....the ball belonged to South Carolina. What happened on the very next play shook the Universe and set it aright....
Being the dedicated employee that I am...I'm back on the road*. So, we just gonna do something different.
I assume y'all will have heard this classic rock....classic. Ballsy riffs and a squealing lead, hollered lyrics...classic. You should hear it on the gigantic speakers at Davis-Wade. It really comes to full throat on those arena sized speakers.
Of course, none of this changes the fact that the song is nonsense. These fella's were from New York or someplace. One of 'em might even have been a Canadian. It's painfully obvious that they looked at map and picked a town on the river...for the setting.
It's the tale of a Cajun lady that lives in Louisiana, across the Mississippi River from Vicksburg. I'm not saying a Coonass has never stopped for gas in Waterproof or Delta but, at that point on the river, you're a lot closer to Arkansas than you are Lafayette (Laugh-a-et). That's on the map. In spirit...you are in Arkansas.
She might as well have been living at the rest stop in Cleveland, Ohio where they sell Boudin.
"Boudin?"
"Yeah..it's a sausage they make in Louisiana."
"Yes ma'am," I couldn't help but chuckle, "I've ate a lot of Boudin. I just can't believe I'm seeing it here."
I was as polite about as I could be but, I immediately felt bad when I realized how disappointed she was that I had stole her thunder. I guarantee she had plenty more opportunities to wow the yokels round there. Besides, I was flabbergasted.
It weren't real Boudin anyway...you can't sell blood.
Anyway, I'll tell you what they do have in north Louisiana...the Robertsons.
A family of good'uns that have made a pile a money with handmade duck calls.
Sorry about the commercials..if the embeds even work...but, it's worth it. They play it up and clown but, between the lines you'll find the best representation of Southerners that's ever been on television.
If you live over here you've seen Duck Dynasty..or at least heard of it. I don't know how our British readers get American TV but, if you get the chance check it out.
Disclaimer for C...they hunt. They eat what they hunt though and don't eat meat if they didn't kill it themselves. I can't help but see that as a moral step up...they are off the grid and the meat Industry would go broke if it was up to these folks.
Last week was supossed to be a great time for the blog.
Mostly what I do for a living is put new products in kitchens. So, after the first week or so in December...it get's a little slow.
"Oh yeah...we can really do something with this...come on back first of the year."
"Come back and see me after the First...we gon be makin' some changes. This'll be great."
"Etc."
It's 'bout pointless to leave the office during the last few weeks of December and I was ready to sit. I had a list of topics to cover...
Fininsh explaining why Joe Strummer made a terrible Punk Rocker
How the adamparsons can't tell the difference between Collards, Turnips...and Cabbage. Really.
The literary genius of Satellite of Love
How y'all have utterly failed me this year in coming up with the definitive take on Memphis
I wasted Monday playin' Microsoft Pinball...it happens. Then, inexplicably...there was an appointment. Then a ride with...and anther appointment. on Friday. I never work on Friday.
Then my Daddy showed up...and I was home and there was a fire. Christmas shopping and a couple of Bowl Games. More Christmas shopping. Then I broke down and ate somebody's stocking stuffers...now I have to go back out for more Christmas shopping.
Anyway....
P.S. I'll be back in the office next week and we will discuss the adamparsons' outrageous characterization of the Collards.
I was in Glen Allen yesterday..we been there before.
We made a call in a country store and bait shop. There was an older white lady workin' the counter. She got around just fine but she weren't in no hurry. Mostly she sat on a stool, leanin' on the counter..drinkin' [iced] tea. It was a rounded but sprawled appearance...like a snowman made out of bean bags. She was sweet as she could be.
A real contrast with the noise and energy that was coming from the kitchen...where two voices mingled into a pleasant but indecipherable stream of sound occasionally punctuated by jabs of racket or an "O-Kaaaaaay?"
"Connie!" the old lady hollered back into the kitchen. Well, she tried to holler. I don't think she's got a holler in her. "Y'all, Mrs. P**** here with food." Them girls couldn't hear her no more than they could hear me now if I yelled out the window.
Not one to wait around, Mrs. P just got up and went into the kitchen, through the noise, to fetch Mrs. Connie.
"They carryin' on back there ain't they?" I said to beanbag.
"They're sisters. They go on like that all day long" she drew a slow smile, "I love to listen to em."
There was a pleasing cadence to "conversation"....not that you could pick out a word except for the Oks and the "NO...No she din' " that made it clear they were communicating with one another. It was like a secret language.
"I'm Connie...good to meet you." she held her hand out.
I shook it..."I'm Erik and I'm glad to meet you Mrs. Connie."
She could be in early 30's or late 40's, 50's. Hell, I don't know...it's hard to tell with Black women sometimes. They seem to skip through middle age with the same smooth complexion they had in their 20's. It's not til they get really older that the wrinkles start.
Then her sister came out. She did seem younger. Her hair was longer and she was wearing a wool cap that was stretched up as tall as she could get it. They were fun and complained about how the last time I brought chicken wings one of the customers had eaten them all before they could sample 'em. I promised to leave extra this time and they went back to the kitchen...back to their private chatter.
I listened to them and browsed around the store. Somebody had figured out how to stuff wine bottles with Christmas lights...there was a wall full of neon yellow and blue rubber worms...spam...then I came across this...
That's Ms. Connie...and a fish she caught, not far from Glen Allen, in Steele Bayou around Mayersville. Curious. It's a good sized fish but not a record breaker. Then there's the look on her face. Not exactly the expresson of triumph one would expect when you've caught a fish that's made the local paper....or the Jackson paper for that matter. In fact, she looks like she's tryin' to get somebody to take it from her.
Maybe it has something to do with these...
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
It's just not safe 'round here y'all...not in the wood, not in the fields and certainly not in the water.
Being the selfless employee that I am...I was out late last night. I didn't get home from the Coast 'til around 8 o'clock. Always thinking of the company. Rarely thinking of myself. I did that knowing that I would probably end up having to eat a meal from Mack Donald's...and so I did. That's dedication.
It did afford me the opportunity to drive in the dark. For all the time I spend in the car, most of it is done in sunshine. During the day, Magee is two miles of irritating stop lights and dingy strip malls...at night it's like driving up the trunk of a Christmas tree.
The Radio's different too. It's second string, non-league radio. Among other things, this means they'll take any caller they can get. It can be highly entertaining...or, it can be extremely irritating. Callers that are nervous all the really get out is a lot of heavy breathing. Some don't call for a conversation but to state, and stick to, their point no matter what. The worst of all is when the host misreads what the caller has said. I get so frustrated listening to failed communication...it causes a kind of physical irritation in me.
Of course, sometimes it would be better if I didn't understand what was being said. Last night it was the Schnit show...Schhhyt. Some school up north has decided that along with the U.S. National Anthem and the Pledge of Allegiance, to start the day, the children will also stand for the Black (or African-American) National Anthem. That's dumb...I think the U.S. National Anthem's dumb and they can take that fascists-one-nation-indivisible-my-ass Pledge of Allegiance and shove it where the sun don't shine but, adding the BNA to the mix is just begging for trouble.
For one thing, it sets the "colour-blind" into a tizzy. First it was the host...Schhhnyt, "I worrrk with alat of Ayficayn-Amyricayns...and they are Amyricayns just like me." Then the caller...distraught caller, will call her Bayrb, "I'm ah teaycher and thowse kids I teaych are mostly Ayyfican-Amyricayns but, I don't see a color. Thyyre just Amyricayns to me. Weyyre awwwlll Amyricayns."
No! Schhhhnyt and Bayrb...we are not all Amyyyyyricans. Certainly not in the all consuming glazed over sense that you two mean it. Black folks have had their own history and challenges that have shaped them, as a group, into something distinct. It's called an identity. A concept that is extremely confusing and frustrating for the Amyrricayn.
"Why wouldn't sambody wanna by an Amyricayn Walley?"
"Gosh Beave, I duh know. It's the best darn country that's ever been."
"Gee Walley...do haveta swear? Now I gatta tell Mom."
Then, there seemed to be some hope. An older Black lady called and tried to explain the significance of the Song...Lift Every Voice and Sing...and why it matters so much to Black Folks.
"Well that's fyyne...if people want to be entertaaayyyned by the sang but..." At that point I turned the radio down so I could rant uninterrupted.
"Entertainment??? You stupid...it has nothing to do with entertainment you dumb...it is a part of who they are. It says something profound about their own history...about who they are as Black folks. It's not up to you, and your dumb as... to decide...blahaha bblaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah."
Those that know me, and careful readers of the blog, will know that I am not merely jumping to the defense of Black identity. That this issue is a sensitive one because, I too, have an identity that separates me from the Amyyyricayns. One that I expect to be respected.
Right on cue....I cut the radio back up and there's an older Black gentlemen complaining that he had to sing Dixie as a kid in the South. It must have been Mississippi because he was making thinly veiled complaints about what's left of Confederate symbology at a major state university.
"Oh gayd...OH GAYD...No I can't believe that...OH GAYD...you had to sing Dixie..OH GAYD. That's wrang...that wrang. I wouldn't staynd for that eitha. OH GAYD Dixie? OH GAYD."
Then even worse..."The Sowthh has chaynged alat since those dayys."
Stop right there moron....listen carefully, write it down, take a picture and hide it in a hole, our reverence for our ancestors and the sacrifices they made defending our home from the likes of you and Bayrb has not ceased or diminished one iota. Don't think for one second that because people like you and Bayrb have managed to stop the Ole Miss band playing From Dixie With Love or, that because some other Amyyricayn has gotten Confederate Battle flags removed from the stadium, that we have budged an inch on the issue of our identity. You and Bayrb can go pound sand then ride of on a tandem bike.
As for the caller....I don't think you or anybody else should have to sing or stand for anything...not Dixie, not God Bless Amyyrica, or Happy Birthday but, NOT everything is about your skin colour! Ole Miss, for instance, has a profound connection to the Confederacy...100%, that's everybody, casualty rate for the Mississippi GrEys from Ole Miss during the war. The town of Oxford was burnt to the ground by Yankees. The importance of the Confederacy at Ole Miss, and throughout The South, is not something that was invented just to spite you.
RRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHH Calgon take me away for the love of kittens...TAKE ME AWAY!!!!
Besides, the most serious, and yet stupid, differences that separate black and white Southerners have their roots in the Occupation...euphemistically called Reconstruction by the Amyricayns.
Everybody was pissin' me off last night :)...and it was with great relief that I pulled into the drive.
Listen to the Song...it's gorgeous. If you're gonna stand for something it might as well be Ray Charles.
*The only sensible thing Tim Brando has ever said.
Roll Tide.
All you need to know about Georgia is their Fight Song is based on The Battle Hymn of the Republic.
And they wear silver britches.
These two played for the first time in 1895.
Bama picks up a first down then punts...touchback...so far nothing gained or lost.
Murray running for his life...that has to be part of the game plan for Georgia. We'll see how that works out.
3 and Out - Punt Dawgs.
Georgia does have a few players on that defense...but, if they can't stop Alabama from running the ball this thing won't last long.
Uh oh...Alabama turns the ball over.
Don't looked shocked Murray...we all saw it. Back 'em up.
First down Georgia.
Got 'im. Kick a field goal losers.
Ha ha...wide right. Still 0 - 0.
Short...see if they can flip the field. Crap. Alabama picks up the first down on a fake punt only to have it called back for a delay of game penalty.
Murray goes down again.
Then Gurly runs right by the defense. 1st down Georgia.
End of 1st Quarter - Georgia 0 - Alabama 0
Georgia fakes the punt...and pulls it off.
Touchdown Georgia...
Georgia 7 - Alabama 0
Georgia's fired up now...they just backed Alabama up about 15 yards. Coverage Sack.
There you go Bama...like a wet blanket. Punt you dirty dogs.
What a catch...what a flippin' catch.
That's runnin' down hill.
I don't like the these rules that baby the quarterback but....it's the rules. Roughing passer. First and goal Alabama.
This is some stout football...3rd and goal.
What a terrible throw...Alabama is screwing themselves to the wall. Two turnovers...and that hideous songs starts.
Answer to the Trivia question...Ingram, Newton and Weurfell.
Bama's moving the ball...slowly.
TOUCHDOWN LACEY...TOUCHDOWN AAALLLAAAABAMA!
Georgia 7 - Alabma 7
Are they gonna let these knuckleheads score before the end of the half?
Interception!!! And Murray got the sense knocked out of 'im.
Uncharacteristic for Bama...bad clock managment, like Miles bad but, Bama gets 3
Halftime.
Georgia 7 - Alabama 10.
"Vicious" is how Gary described the first half.
Can I just express my hatred for the commercial that begins with the statement..."all individuals are created equal...teams are not." How is that possible...gooblygoook. I can't stand it.
Georgia's back down the field.
Touchdown Gurly...that was too easy.
Georgia 14 - Alabama 10
If Bama can blast it through the tackles like that they may yet get this thing under control.
Or they could take sacks and lose 6 yards at a time.
Alabama gets ripped on a pass interference that was waved off...then Georgia blocks the field goal for a touchdown. Two special teams fails and two turnovers for Bama...horrendous clock managment...who is this.
Georgia 21 - Alabama 10
Alabama's tryin' to respond.
Bama RESPONDS...TOUCHDOWN! Alabama is going for two...GOT IT!!!
Georgia 21 - Alabama 18
Stoned! One more stop.
Outstanding...punt it dawgs.
OOOOPS...about 30 yards on that one...15 on the next. They are beatin' 'em down at the line. Alabama's almost as fired up as Martha.
The Tag on that truck reads LACEY.
Martha's calling out the plays...one yard to go.
End of 3...Alabama on the one inch line.
TOUCHDOWN ALABAMA...they are just running it down their throat now.
Georgia 21 - Alabama 25
Martha is talking all kinda trash about Saban being a real coach because of the two point conversion. Georgia needs a touchdown to pull ahead.
I think, like a lot of women...she hates timidity (especially in men) and there are a lot of scared coaches out there.
Uh Oh...that was a great catch.
Just like that Georgia's in the red zone...Murray hits King for about 50 yards.
Damn...Gurley in for the touchdown.
From Martha.."This is Stressful." Where's she been all year.
Georgia 28 - Alabama 25
Yeldon just carried three Dawgs across the first down line.
This is brutal football...and Alabama seems to be wearing down the Georgia defensive line.
That Jenkins is wide as dump trunk.
Bama punts and pins Georgia back behind their 10 yard line.
STONED at the line...punt Georgia punt.
How man Ogletrees are on this Georgia team?
Bama's kinda sputtering...they've got about 5 minutes here.
We all stepped out during a Georgia timeout and Bama scores on a bomb.
Georgia 28 - Alabama 32. That conversion is really telling at this point.
Get on now Dawg...punt the ball so you can lose. Ha ha losers.
All Alabama needs is a few first downs.
Alright y'all...Georgia gets one more shot at it. Right at one minute.
85 yards to cover and no timeouts for Georgia. Here we go.
Interception...now the review. I can't say...I know what I want it to be but...
Martha's catching the vapors over on the couch.
That ball hit the ground...no interception...that close. We await the official call.
No interception.
Georgia's at the 35 now...great catch, especially after the way he got popped.
So close Dawgs...so close. The game ended on the 3 yard line with Georgia unable to stop the clock.
Martha was pretty hilarious...she was down for Bama.
Up next revenge for 1966!
ROLL TIDE! BEAT THE IRISH!
It was a great football game...and this clip is worth a look if you have any interest in what great offense looks like.
Last weekend, in an attempt to never leave the house again...ever, I watched a documentary about Joe Strummer. I'm not sure I learned anything new...I was already certain that John Cusack has nothing of interest to say about anything before he popped up in this pogram. I'd never really seen the timeline of his early life straight through like that...public school (boarding school we'd call it), the quasi-hippie days and the sense of having missed the revolution...his recruitment into Punk Rock....
Later in the week, I read an article about Conservatism and Modernism...the importance of Modernism in bringing about the kind of a-political, anti-ideaology, Conservatism that your author subscribes to...coming to tradition and belief through an absolute skepticism that anything can ever be known. Much of it focused on T.S. Eliot....but, the article glanced against Punk Rock describing it as the last Modern expression in Popular Culture.*
It was the last sight of, what one reader called, "manly nihilsm." The last unflinching look at a world without Authority and the consequences of such a situation.
It's here that Strummer comes back into the picture. That's where we'll pick it up...after tomorrow or, not. We can't talk about it today because this post is about to be buried.
Tomorrow, the Southeaster Conference will decide it's Champion as the Georgia Bulldogs and the Alabama Crimson Tide get after it in Atlanta. Y'all know we ain't missin' that.
HUNKER DOWN!
ROOOOLL TIDE!
Be here or be square punks!
*Here we could swerve into a lengthy discussion about the towering genius of Mark E Smith and the Mighty Fall but, we probably shouldn't. We should point to No Wave, strains of Hip Hop, and the Slackers of the author's youth as other examples...and so we have.
