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Hail Hail

October 29, 2009 Leave a comment

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There are few things more American than the live NFL experience.  In fact, I’m pretty sure any non-American would either vomit or spontaneously combust when brought into this volatile mix of bravado and excess.  Well, actually, let’s take a step back.

In truth, live football games are not REALLY the American experience.  They are indicative of a certain, albeit large, portion of the American people, and it just so happens to be that this portion is what we’re known for all over the world.  Obnoxiousness? Check.  Portliness? Check. Let’s cut to the chase: excess of all kinds? Check!  If your average Frenchman makes 10 casual assumptions about Americans, and has never been here, I would be willing to bet that dropping him in the middle of an NFL tailgate would confirm at least 6 of those.

But that’s why we love it, right?  Football brings us together in our shared sense of American-ness.  Most of us, from our perch on the living room couch, can tune in on Sunday and feel as if we’re participating in some grand tradition.

Last Monday I had my first NFL tailgating experience.  I was in it, on the front lines, so to speak.  And if the NFL is analogous to war, and the game is the battle, then the tailgate must be some sort of bizarre, liquored, march – replete with meat and pent up aggression.

Actually, what struck me most about the tailgate, was how it so totally completed football’s gladiator mystique.  When in a tailgate, you are amongst this feverish horde – a veritable sea of humanity.  In this horde are people from all walks of life, but all focused on one thing.  Some are betting, some are drunk, some are eyeing the guy in the eagles jersey who just put his beer on the hood of their car – whatever their stance, they are in this horde, and they are gathered in the shadow of the coliseum.  When you’re in this shadow, you’re not in real life.  Kickoff looms, and the revelry dies down as it approaches.  The horde swells towards the stadium, and everyone is still the same person they were upon arrival, only they have escaped, and will continue to do so at the expense of someone else’s bloodshed.

I’ve never been to a gladiator match, but I have to imagine the scene played somewhat like this.  I can’t really be sure of how the actual events played out, or whether they did so in congruence with the NFL experience.  But I am sure of one thing that is true of both spectacles.  When the match ends, the people of the horde, that had been so blissfully lost in the carnage, will wake up.  They will realize that they are no longer allowed in the shadow of the coliseum, as it is not a place where one exists in the hours when things must get done.  So they will return to their shops, though still thinking about the next match, and dreaming of being in the shadow once more.

Categories: Sports Tags: ,

Low – Laser Beam

October 29, 2009 Leave a comment

Beautiful. Haunting. Heartbreaking. A must listen for the later hours of your day.

Categories: Music Tags: , ,

Jimmy James

October 29, 2009 Leave a comment

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If I would live in a mansion, I’d probably just sleep out on the deck. – JJ

Categories: About Me Tags: ,

Lemmy K.

October 29, 2009 Leave a comment

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As any true rock and roll fan will tell you, there are few rock luminaries as legendary as Motorhead’s Lemmy Kilmister.  The man is 63 years old, still plays 150 shows a year, and has never softened his ways or his music – which remains as bloodthirsty today as it was 30 years ago.  I’ve been a follower of Kilmister’s for just under a decade now, and have read much about him, though nothing holds a candle to Mark Binelli’s piece in the most recent Rolling Stone (Madonna on the cover).  I’ll spare you the glowing rhetoric, and just cut right to a section I thought best surmised the majesty of this man.  If you like what you’ve read, I implore you to pick up this issue, and hopefully, a Motorhead album as well.

Adds [Ozzy] Osbourne, “Lemmy’s a one-off, believe me. I used be a wild guy, but Lemmy… on the Blizzard of Ozz Tour, he had a plaid bag with three books and a notepad.  No change of clothes. His fucking rider was eight bottles of bourbon, seven bottles of vodka, two bottles of orange juice, and that’s fucking it! And I’ve never seen him falling down drunk, ever.  He’s not grossly overweight, he never looks hung over or like he’s dying. He’s not fucking human.

Trust me, this is a fantastic article on a man who is the last of the quintessential, bullshit-free, rock and roll heroes. Make it happen.

Categories: Music Tags: ,

The Overflow Tank

October 24, 2009 Leave a comment

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12.5.09

John Paul Jones Arena

Charlottesville, VA

Categories: Music Tags: ,

I found the worm…

October 24, 2009 Leave a comment

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Fuck you.

Categories: Sports, Uncategorized

Word of the Day

October 23, 2009 Leave a comment

Morass…

*morass |məˈras; mô-|nounan area of muddy or boggy ground.figurative a complicated or confused situation : she would become lost ina morass of lies and explanations.ORIGIN late 15th cent.: from Dutch moeras, alteration (by assimilation to moer ‘moor’ ) of Middle Dutch marasch, from Old French marais ‘marsh,’ from medieval Latin mariscus.

– courtesy of Apple dictionary.

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