Sports Illustrated, 1982, Los Angeles Rams gettin' physical. Scanned by Rebongaz!
American as: Beer, Beef, Football, Race Relations
Two important things: 1. Troy's 303 photos of Jaime
+ Jacob Wedding Party of the Century.
And, 2. Wow: 15
Hostages Rescued in Colombia: Military Tricks Rebels Into Freeing Politician
Betancourt, 3 American Contractors.
Related: Bob says, "mccain organized his trip to colombia
around the rescue of these hostages. beautiful. that brings a cynical tear
to my sand-dry eye. he didn't make the photo op, unfortunately."
Hostage Rescue is Happy Coincidence for McCain in Colombia
Although the timing of the rescue was a coincidence and Mr. McCain's trip
to Colombia had nothing to do with it, the event nonetheless put him in
the middle of classified talks about covert operations with the head of
another government.
me:
i mean, could that possibly be true?
bob: what? that he timed his trip to go alongside the operation?
me: no, that he didnt
bob: war veteran presidential candidate, finally has the ear of the
white house that helped plan the thing at a time when he's trying to demonstrate
that he's the better choice for security in a post sep lev world, even though
the thing with the FARC is pure cold war leftovers? i dunno. maybe it was
an accident.
i'm just sayin now that the dems may not have the opportunity for such happy
accidents and, with obama as the leader in the race, israel better start
feeding him info about some hostages that THEY'RE gonna get released. i
mean, good god.
Dear D.C. Diary,
Today at the beer store a black man tried to pick a fight with me. It could've
been because I'm a girl, or a gay, or because his Bluetooth was pinching
his ear too hard, but I'm pretty sure it was because I'm white. And even
whiter than sometimes because I got my blonde re-did. Well, listen up Mr.
Bluetooth Black Man who got in my face for no reason at all: You can't keep
me away from Decatur Liquor, because the black man who works there is nice,
it's the closest beer to my house, and I like beer. So there.
BEEF NEWS: My girlfriend's reputation as a "vegetarian chef" is
about to take a hit: Grass
Fed ... and dough balls at Chef Chez's Farm Freshies. See Otis before
he's Prime!
SPORTS NEWS OF THE PAST: Bongz writes, "In honor of our nation's
birthday, please enjoy this exclusive look from Sports Illustrated, July
1982, at what our country's great warriors — football players — do
to keep themselves fierce in the off-season. The camel-toe is just the beginning."
Click the sweet scan above or below and get 'em big. I'd like to see today's
350-pound offensive linemen doing a handstand on a skateboard.
To Do:
Minneapolis. This has to be an homage to Hope Solo, right?
Hope & Despair in Sports Features
SI's Gary Smith can ruin almost any story with his cloying, melodramatic
style. He's been called One of American's Best Sportswriters, so there's
no accounting for taste. I'll let you decide for youself: bile-raising,
or just emo-literary? The opening to his 2007 piece on Jamila Wideman, cutie
lesbian daughter of writer John Edgar Wideman, went like this (from Out
of the Shadows):
Who's to say? Maybe it's enough for you. After
all, they're playing the game on a shiny hardwood surface, and it moves with
such beauty and ferocity across that surface...maybe that's sufficient. Perhaps
you can stick your hand on a radiator and know all you need to know about
heat. But if only you could hear, in the silence between sneaker squeak and
ball bounce, the other drama being played out. If only you could see what
brought each of these 10 people to this shiny wood, what makes them race and
leap and dive across it, then you would know the true heat and beauty of the
game.
Barf. Anyway, he wrote a feature for SI last week on a pretty amazing woman.
Read it if you can:
1.
Alive And Kicking: Thanks to a remarkable woman, young war refugees from
three continents have found a new home on a soccer team in Georgia.
You may remember all the silly hubbub last year when pissed-off US goalie
Hope Solo bitched about being benched in a critical World Cup loss, and
her teammates made her a pariah. SI ran a pretty good follow-up to that
mess:
2. Hard
Return: Her World Cup outburst violated the team-first ethos of women's
sports and made her an outcast. Now Hope Solo is the U.S. goalie once again,
bound for Beijing—and still trying to figure it all out, by Grant Wahl.
In the same issue, a depressing feature on the ubiquity of gangs in Oakland:
3.
How Dreams Die: To escape gangs and violence, kids often turn to sports.
Many in Oakland no longer see them as the way out, by George Dohrmann.
Finally, coverage of the Homeless World Cup, from last week's Washington
Post:
4. Lives
Are Transformed When These Players Stay on the Ball, by Mike Wise.
I've got a backlog of stuff I want to post. But sometimes it's healthy
to step away from the computer. I'm going to do that now. But first, a photo
essay on parenting by Julie Comnick on Portland mom Tess and child Oscar.
Tess Being a Good Mom, by Julie Comnick
"Hi, I thought you may be able to do something with these."
Sean has an idea, and AJ is about to get hurt.
Sean
(Oops. My mom just reminded me that I'm a month too early. Oh well. What the hell.)
Sorry it's all deathy around here, but today
last year our brother Sean died. I don't miss him every day, since I
never saw him every day, but when I do miss him it's like getting smacked
by a big wave, then getting dragged down in the trough.
I've been taking his ashes around the country with me. I have a lot. A
quarter of them, to be exact. I used to carry them in a tiny baggie that
looked like drugs, but have since switched to the smaller of some Russian
nesting dolls my mom gave me. I once lost him in a baggie in a puddle of
hot tub water on a Brooklyn rooftop, which Miss
Mess nobly and against odds located the next day, and toured
him around the city and to the East River. Since then I've left ashes
in New Mexico, Colorado, Ohio, Kentucky, Oklahoma, Texas, South Carolina,
Vermont and Minnesota. If nothing else it keeps him in my mind wherever
I go. It's weird to talk about my brother in the manner of the physical
stuff that remains. The remains. But we are a sentimental people attached
to souvenirs, tokens and symbols I guess.
To Do:
Marla and her dad down in texas in January 2007, the last time she saw him.
R.I.P, Marla's Dad
Friend Marla's dad died
on Saturday. She sent some things to share about him. He lived a crazy 75
years.
To whit:
- born march 20, 1933 in brooklyn, to an african-american (his dad, from
virginia, tracing back to slaves i'm sure) and his mom, a caribbean-american
(emigrating from barbados when she was a teenager)
- an only child, a complete mama's boy.
- being a new york city cop in his 20s and seeing all kinds of insanity
- having two kids by a black wife, then two kids by a white wife (the
first one only 12 years after the supreme court legalized their union)
- living through segregation and decades of second-class citizenship,
and just barely missing america electing its first black president
- seeing new york baseball at its height (although he was strangely a
mets fan, and liked the giants for football, barf)
- getting pissed when muhammed ali hit on his first wife, jean, at a party
- living in new york, virginia, dc, florida, texas...and who knows where
else
- palling around with louis armstrong growing up, after his cousin lucille
married him. lucille was a dancer at the cotton club, where they met.
that was louis' last wife, for the last decades of his life.
- surviving prostate cancer decades ago (which killed his father)
- drinking his way into oblivion on the regular
- the best chef i've ever known
- working for the federal government
- when was around, raising me on calypso and soul music and of course,
on louis armstrong
- fleeing from the trappings of parenthood on more than one occasion
- table
tennis champion in the '80s and '90s
- treating me like an adult. even when i totally a child. note: i do
not recommend this approach.
- his final resting place will be here
* * * * * *
Other stuff
A tiresome thing about having tattoos is having to explain them to strangers,
even though I believe that's what you get for putting weird things visibly
on your body. So, I'm not usually incredibly friendly when dudes at bars
inquire into the meaning of my powerlines. For one thing, I don't have much
of an answer besides "it's art," or "I just like powerlines, don't you?"
which never satisfies anybody. Anyway, this nice guy who runs the popular
neighborhoodie blog Prince of Petworth asked about my lines last night,
and when I stopped being my wary, deflective self, he took
a little photo and posted it today. Thanks, Prince.
(Aside: the new Looking
Glass Lounge, née Temperance Hall, has improved its menu, but
its crowd? Downstairs looked like Hill kids come from kickball and trivia
night fans. Younger and whiter and, um, nerdier than before. And the downstairs
bar "service" wasn't quite. Upstairs is still really good, atmosphere and
bartender-wise.)
To Do:
Underblog says, "Spotted these posters in Edinburgh and thought of you natch."
Join Our Party!
As we all know, many small towns are bleak and ugly little collections
of flimsy buildings, dirt, crytal meth, and McDonalds, but here in Vermont
they are so positively quaint and picturesque and progressive as to feel
not quite real. Montpelier is known to be the only capitol city without
a McDonalds, and I'd daresay it's the only city of 8,000 people in the US
without one. Though nearby Barre has plenty.
Where I am.
Widdle baby lambkins
If you've called or texted, I haven't gotten it, because I'm in Vermont.
My mom said, "even in Uganda you can get text messages," but in Vermont,
I cannot. I am specifically here.
It's pretty sweet, except for all the hippies. Just kidding.
From Troy, in Seattle.
Welcome to the Android Teen Hooker Factory
Today's Guest Content Provider is Dave. Thanks, Dave.
"Here is a collection of the pictures from my cell phone. I already
sent you the Each of us Matters to God kitties I believe. "
To Do:
Nights in San Francisco: Marlz says,
"i just want to mention that i saw a man walking down the street completely
naked last night, at around 10pm at one of the busiest intersections of
the city.
"well, nevermind. he was wearing a backpack. so, not completely naked."
The lady in the middle would like to tell you about her new blogsite.
A: Everyone and their mother
Q: Who has a blog?
It's only a wonder it's taken my mom so long to embrace this medium so
clearly made for her. I predicted her blog would be rich in exclamation
points, and I was correct, starting with the name: Jambo!
It means Hello in Swahili. It also means I'll be able to keep track of what
my mom's up to, assuming Uganda has the internets. Please welcome my mom!
Miscellany
TONIGHT: Queerfest DC
Featuring housemate Maegan, Tommy Hottpants (whose hotpants, I hear, leave
little to the imagination), and more!
Queerfest DC: All ages alterna-queer dance party massive!
DJs:
Tommy Hottpants (NYC)
Mikey B (NYC)
Joshua (Riff Raff DC)
Junebullet (First Ladies DC)
Black Cat. Backstage. $5 Doors @ 9pm
More at The
New Gay.
That dude on the left would like to tell you about his new "blog."
Hambuger (Hotdog) is not a typo
Jimi's got a blog: Hambuger (Hotdog),
and it is good, like Jimi.
HK Product Review: Sharpie Pen
The Sharpie
Pen is terrible. Don't buy it.
Andy and Emily at TNG party, by Coach.
Bull riding, cheap ads, gay wizards, brains & marriage. And John McCain
called his wife a cunt.
1. Yesterday on the left coast, people got gay for marriage.
June 17, 2008: New Gays and Old Gays Wed in California
2. Suzanne, also knowns as SSB, likens editing to bull riding.
So Much in Common:
The Truth about Editing and Bull Riding
(Suzanne also has a secret blog: "Turn Him Out!" A PBR Fansite)
3. David Roth made a video for Slate. Says he, "If you've ever wanted
to see someone so nervous in front of a camera as to appear hypnotized,
or ever wanted to see my goofy visage shoehorned into a hilariously goofy
prefab political advertisement -- or if you'd ever wished bravely for both
-- get ready to have your dreams come true like a motherfucker: Mad-Lib
Political Ads 
."
4. J.K. Rowling delivered the commencement address at Harvard, and it was
good.
The Fringe Benefits
of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination
5. Department of Common Sense Borne Out by Science: straight dudes and
gay ladies, gay dudes and straight ladies, have similar brainz.
Gay brains structured like those of the opposite sex
And, John McCain Called His Wife A Cunt
Specifically, he said, "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollip,
you cunt." From the Huffington Post: McCain
'C-Word' Moment Becomes Fodder For Satirists. Thanks for the headz up, Marlz.
"Free beer and Pepsi Max" from Miriam's Pride 2008 set.
All Mail Revue
We gotta make room in the fridge so let's clear out the leftovers. Yeah,
they're better cold.
- From Debs, NYC: "You know how you're always looking for that perfect
seasoning? I think I found
it."
- From Marlz, SF: "Texting
your way to luv. heh."
- From Constance, DC: "This dude is cramping your style." David
Hajdu talks about a time in America when comics were about crime and vice,
like Grand Theft Auto , Colbert Report.
- From Coach, DC: @
the Shaw Giant, you said my pants looked comfortable - w4w - 25
- From Anisha, DC: Ant
expert E.O. Wilson has spent his career studying tiny creatures. Yet what
sets him apart is his ability to step back and see the grand scheme of
things .
- From SLyon, NC: As Big
Bird, Caroll Spinney loves every feather.
- From Neil, KY: Solid
Gold - Opening 1984 .
From: Father's Day James
Subject: independent music group
i can't stop listening to this sweet new band
they are called
'fly hard red baron, fly true'
they are from canada
and they don't use percussion
their album cover says it all:
