If you argue that, by fighting a war in Iraq, or by stationing troops in the Middle East prior to Sept. 11, we might have been creating enemies, you're unpatriotic.
But it seems like I heard this in church when I was a kid. Now it scares the hell out of me.
And this makes me want to cry:
"I was boiling with anger, and I wished that I had a weapon in my hands in those minutes."
When did we start hiring mercenaries?
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Post Bama report
Well, we beat 'em. I honestly thought we should have run those delusional, self-assured, entitled fools out of their own stadium, but I'll take a W any day, any way.
No doubt talk radio in Tuscaloosa today is centered on how they can still win a National Title this year, and whether Nick Saban will cure cancer or AIDS in his spare time.
While I was in Tuscaloosa I had a few Bama fans, in red shirts but without that crucial cursive "A" to identify them, give me a high-five and say "Go Dawgs." Of course I'd give them the high five. Then they'd say, no, "Roll Tide."
This is apparently known as "getting you" in Tuscaloosa. Yeah, I don't know how they won 12 National Titles, either.
Also, I don't have any problem with the Bama ladies wearing houndstooth dresses, hats, etc. But, men? That's got to stop.
Anyway, from the boys at Georgia Sports Blog:
I was in that traffic, and it was ridiculous. They must have hired a Clemson graduate to set this lunacy up.
And a potentially disturbing look ahead from David Ching in Columbus:
The Ole Miss game now takes its place as the biggest game of the year. That's what happens when you win in the SEC.
Million Dollar band my ass.
Seriously, enough with the houndstooth. He's been dead for 24 years.
No doubt talk radio in Tuscaloosa today is centered on how they can still win a National Title this year, and whether Nick Saban will cure cancer or AIDS in his spare time.
While I was in Tuscaloosa I had a few Bama fans, in red shirts but without that crucial cursive "A" to identify them, give me a high-five and say "Go Dawgs." Of course I'd give them the high five. Then they'd say, no, "Roll Tide."
This is apparently known as "getting you" in Tuscaloosa. Yeah, I don't know how they won 12 National Titles, either.
Also, I don't have any problem with the Bama ladies wearing houndstooth dresses, hats, etc. But, men? That's got to stop.
Anyway, from the boys at Georgia Sports Blog:
Traffic Post-Game: the residents of Tuscaloosa, the Alabama fans, the City and County Governments of the Tuscaloosa area, Mal Moore, the Alabama Department of Transportation, the US Department of Homeland Security and Forrest Gump should all be kicked in the balls for letting the post-game traffic problems continue. They've been playing football in T-town for almost 120 years. Are you seriously telling me that they haven't figured out how to get people out of town yet?
I was in that traffic, and it was ridiculous. They must have hired a Clemson graduate to set this lunacy up.
And a potentially disturbing look ahead from David Ching in Columbus:
(Richt) said watching Ole Miss in his hotel room on Saturday made him "sick to my stomach." They did play well. I watched a good portion of that game before I went to Tuscaloosa and they absolutely had the Gators on the ropes going into the fourth quarter.
The Ole Miss game now takes its place as the biggest game of the year. That's what happens when you win in the SEC.
Million Dollar band my ass.
Seriously, enough with the houndstooth. He's been dead for 24 years.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Beat Alabama
Who could possibly follow a post about Ashley? Only one man:
Night game means no fishing for Munson
Larry Munson teleconference transcription.
"It's going to be a devil of a ball game," Munson said. "I feel they will run it hard on us. All they will have to do is look at our first couple films and they will see that somebody already has run it on us. We are already juggling and changing linebackers. It has been that way from the first day. We have never been sure of the linebackers.
"This is a scary year, and we have to see what we have left when we come out of the end of the year and see if we're standing."
Night game means no fishing for Munson
Larry Munson teleconference transcription.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Companion to the wind
A year ago today my friend Ashley was killed in Iraq by a suicide bomber. She'd been married to one of my best friends for just more than a year when it happened.
I remember the first time I met Ashley. She was a blond bombshell in a skirt that could have been both illegal and famous. And this was the girl who decided to get up early every morning for ROTC training. To go to some God forsaken desert because it was her duty.
I don't know what else to say except that, of all my friends, I still think she had the best spirit. In short, the last person who should have died, but the first one to sign up.
I guess that's what heroes do.
i see a flower there
doesn't know she's beautiful
wakes every morning thinking
all the other things are beautiful,
well she's free.
oh, companion to the wind
I remember the first time I met Ashley. She was a blond bombshell in a skirt that could have been both illegal and famous. And this was the girl who decided to get up early every morning for ROTC training. To go to some God forsaken desert because it was her duty.
I don't know what else to say except that, of all my friends, I still think she had the best spirit. In short, the last person who should have died, but the first one to sign up.
I guess that's what heroes do.
i see a flower there
doesn't know she's beautiful
wakes every morning thinking
all the other things are beautiful,
well she's free.
oh, companion to the wind
Monday, September 17, 2007
To put it another way, we WILL beat Florida
No reason at all on this, other than to move that last post down.
Hold me tight, flying through the air
Coy dogs calling, we're almost there
Laugh so hard that the devil's all scared
I got a real good mind, to beat you senseless
Hold me tight, flying through the air
Coy dogs calling, we're almost there
Laugh so hard that the devil's all scared
I got a real good mind, to beat you senseless
Sunday, September 16, 2007
At what point do we just bow to our Gainesville overlords?
Florida put up 59 points on Tennessee? Are you kidding me? After sending 18 players to the NFL? And replacing 9 starters on defense? And playing so many sophomores and freshmen?
Whammy.
And Kentucky looks great and Tim Tebow is apparently 10 times better than Brett Favre and Peyton Manning combined and we pulled one of the only two seniors we have on the o-line... and started a true freshman instead.
This might be a long season.
But at least we're not these guys.
Or these poor bastards.
Or tech.
Whammy.
And Kentucky looks great and Tim Tebow is apparently 10 times better than Brett Favre and Peyton Manning combined and we pulled one of the only two seniors we have on the o-line... and started a true freshman instead.
This might be a long season.
But at least we're not these guys.
Or these poor bastards.
Or tech.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Also, how do they make vitamins?
I was wondering last night: How can companies advertise prescription strength medicines "now available without a prescription"?
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Sept. 11, 2007
I've tried many times to write about Sept. 11. But I think today I'll just remember those who died, and say a prayer for peace.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Starring Sanford Stadium as itself
After some hemming and hawing, I'm putting this up.
But let me issue a warning: It depicts drinking, Georgia football and otherwise immature behavior.
If that's not your bag, don't watch. If it is, this will probably make you jealous.
The song is Honeysuckle Blue, by Drivin' n Cryin'.
But let me issue a warning: It depicts drinking, Georgia football and otherwise immature behavior.
If that's not your bag, don't watch. If it is, this will probably make you jealous.
The song is Honeysuckle Blue, by Drivin' n Cryin'.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
No, that's... that was Mongolia
I started out to show that pretty much every one can find the United States of America on a world map. That to suggest otherwise was ridiculous.
Sadly, I was wrong. This is the story. And here's the video, shot and edited by Ryan Gilchrest here at the paper.
Sadly, I was wrong. This is the story. And here's the video, shot and edited by Ryan Gilchrest here at the paper.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Castles? Indianapolis was full of them.
Last night I bought Deadeye Dick, by Kurt Vonnegut, for no particular reason. Check out the first section of the first chapter:
The man could write.
To the as-yet-unborn, to all innocent wisps of undifferentiated nothingness: Watch out for life.
I have caught life. I have come down with life. I was a wisp of undifferentiated nothingness, and then a little peephole opened quite suddenly. Light and sound poured in. Voices began to describe me and my surroundings. Nothing they said could be appealed. They said I was a boy named Rudolph Waltz, and that was that. They said the year was 1932, and that was that. They said I was in Midland City, Ohio, and that was that.
They never shut up. Year after year they piled detail upon detail. They do it still. You know what they say now? They say the year is 1982, and that I am fifty years old.
Blah blah blah.
The man could write.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Sept. 8 falls on a Saturday again
I'm nearly certain this is the biggest train wreck I've ever written. But you should read the hand-written version.
In keeping with tradition, some of the names have been changed to Georgia's school colors.
---
There's a football game this Sept. 8. And, again, it's South Carolina at home.
On a Saturday six years ago I woke up tranquil. It was to be new Coach Mark Richt's first real test that day. But unfortunately a Lou Holtz coached South Carolina team came into Sanford Stadium and pulled out a tight one, mostly on the strength of Georgia dropped passes.
The night before I had to kick some random Auburn fan out of Red and Black's apartment before I went to bed. They weren't there at the time, and I was pretty sure they weren't asleep at 4 in the morning.
My buddy Red, who grew up in Ohio, showed up at his apartment the next morning. I sent him ahead to the tailgating spot with the flag, thinking to myself he just wouldn't last long.
Later on Nick and Brett and I convinced Red to tackle Brett's brother — a guy we called The General because he liked to tell people what to do. For example: He must have called me a dozen times that morning to tell me there was "no parking" at the spot. When I showed up, a mere 8 hours before kickoff, there were only a few hundred spaces left.
Anyway, The General was sitting in a tailgating chair four hours before kickoff. Just sitting there, minding his own business, talking to some girl, drinking a beer there in his chair.
This was before The General quit drinking and became a missionary in Honduras.
And, whammy, Red nailed him, flipped him over his chair, spilled that beer all over The General's white shirt.
Funniest thing I've ever seen. Nick said later that it was the best tackle of the day. There was some yelling after that, and Red stumbled off angry into the heat of the summer afternoon - as if somehow he'd been wronged.
Red missed the game. I found him at his apartment that night. He came out of his bedroom and asked me if we won.
No, I said. No we didn't. And neither did Michigan, and Red had grown up a Michigan fan.
Said Red: "Washington beat Michigan, the Dawgs lost and I'm an asshole. It's been a bad day."
He had a way of summing things up.
Black broke into the conversation somewhere around there, as if he'd forgotten what happened, but now he remembered, with a wide-eyed smile on his face.
It was the end of the game and Black had been talking about killing Lou Holtz for most of the day. And Holtz was marching back and forth on that sideline like a 5' 5" general and it felt like he was the difference out there.
Black hated South Carolina. He got arrested there on an underage possession charge his first time in the state. Nothing like spending the night in jail your first night in a city.
By the way, at some point this Saturday The General got a call on his cell phone. Some buddy of his got arrested in Atlanta and he was going to have to go bail him out. He got another call a few minutes later.
"Whew," he said. "They got him out."
So Black started in not knowing anything but he was going to kill Lou Holtz with an empty half pint of Kentucky Gold whiskey. This was somewhere in the 4th quarter. He tore down toward the South Carolina bench until he was within whatever the hell it was he figured was within range.
"I reared back to throw, you know," he said later, acting it out a little and still smiling that crazy little grin.
"And just as I threw it, some ____ing Georgia fan threw his arm up and the bottle hit him."
"Boom! And it ____ing shattered and it broke two bones and he's ____ing swelling like out to here."
Black showed us where "here" was.
"I was like, '____ing ____ South Carolina, man, this guy's hand is busted.'"
Black could really keep things in perspective. He abandoned his mission to kill Lou Holtz and dragged this poor guy, who protested that his hand was just fine, to find a cop.
Somehow Black was not arrested. But I have thought about getting the police report.
"Suspect stated he was trying to "kill that ____er Lou Holtz when victim's hand was struck by an empty half-pint whiskey bottle."
Red and I went downtown that night. By then, he was well rested.
"You can't stop what can't be stopped," he used to say.
"Washington beat Michigan, the Dawgs lost and I'm an asshole," he'd said. "It's been a bad day."
But three days later was Sept. 11, 2001. And we found out just how bad a day could get.
I haven't taken losses the same ever since.
Sept. 8 falls on a Saturday again. For me that will always mean that Sept. 11 falls on a Tuesday.
In keeping with tradition, some of the names have been changed to Georgia's school colors.
---
There's a football game this Sept. 8. And, again, it's South Carolina at home.
On a Saturday six years ago I woke up tranquil. It was to be new Coach Mark Richt's first real test that day. But unfortunately a Lou Holtz coached South Carolina team came into Sanford Stadium and pulled out a tight one, mostly on the strength of Georgia dropped passes.
The night before I had to kick some random Auburn fan out of Red and Black's apartment before I went to bed. They weren't there at the time, and I was pretty sure they weren't asleep at 4 in the morning.
My buddy Red, who grew up in Ohio, showed up at his apartment the next morning. I sent him ahead to the tailgating spot with the flag, thinking to myself he just wouldn't last long.
Later on Nick and Brett and I convinced Red to tackle Brett's brother — a guy we called The General because he liked to tell people what to do. For example: He must have called me a dozen times that morning to tell me there was "no parking" at the spot. When I showed up, a mere 8 hours before kickoff, there were only a few hundred spaces left.
Anyway, The General was sitting in a tailgating chair four hours before kickoff. Just sitting there, minding his own business, talking to some girl, drinking a beer there in his chair.
This was before The General quit drinking and became a missionary in Honduras.
And, whammy, Red nailed him, flipped him over his chair, spilled that beer all over The General's white shirt.
Funniest thing I've ever seen. Nick said later that it was the best tackle of the day. There was some yelling after that, and Red stumbled off angry into the heat of the summer afternoon - as if somehow he'd been wronged.
Red missed the game. I found him at his apartment that night. He came out of his bedroom and asked me if we won.
No, I said. No we didn't. And neither did Michigan, and Red had grown up a Michigan fan.
Said Red: "Washington beat Michigan, the Dawgs lost and I'm an asshole. It's been a bad day."
He had a way of summing things up.
Black broke into the conversation somewhere around there, as if he'd forgotten what happened, but now he remembered, with a wide-eyed smile on his face.
It was the end of the game and Black had been talking about killing Lou Holtz for most of the day. And Holtz was marching back and forth on that sideline like a 5' 5" general and it felt like he was the difference out there.
Black hated South Carolina. He got arrested there on an underage possession charge his first time in the state. Nothing like spending the night in jail your first night in a city.
By the way, at some point this Saturday The General got a call on his cell phone. Some buddy of his got arrested in Atlanta and he was going to have to go bail him out. He got another call a few minutes later.
"Whew," he said. "They got him out."
So Black started in not knowing anything but he was going to kill Lou Holtz with an empty half pint of Kentucky Gold whiskey. This was somewhere in the 4th quarter. He tore down toward the South Carolina bench until he was within whatever the hell it was he figured was within range.
"I reared back to throw, you know," he said later, acting it out a little and still smiling that crazy little grin.
"And just as I threw it, some ____ing Georgia fan threw his arm up and the bottle hit him."
"Boom! And it ____ing shattered and it broke two bones and he's ____ing swelling like out to here."
Black showed us where "here" was.
"I was like, '____ing ____ South Carolina, man, this guy's hand is busted.'"
Black could really keep things in perspective. He abandoned his mission to kill Lou Holtz and dragged this poor guy, who protested that his hand was just fine, to find a cop.
Somehow Black was not arrested. But I have thought about getting the police report.
"Suspect stated he was trying to "kill that ____er Lou Holtz when victim's hand was struck by an empty half-pint whiskey bottle."
Red and I went downtown that night. By then, he was well rested.
"You can't stop what can't be stopped," he used to say.
"Washington beat Michigan, the Dawgs lost and I'm an asshole," he'd said. "It's been a bad day."
But three days later was Sept. 11, 2001. And we found out just how bad a day could get.
I haven't taken losses the same ever since.
Sept. 8 falls on a Saturday again. For me that will always mean that Sept. 11 falls on a Tuesday.
Saturday's threshold: A little football math
I had no idea:
But this, I could have guessed (though six seems low):
The rest of Josh Kendall's Georgia notebook is here. On Saturday we find out just how good this team is.
If Georgia beats South Carolina on Saturday, Bulldogs head coach Mark Richt will pass Steve Spurrier in winning percentage among SEC coaches.
Richt (62-17, 78.5 percent) currently is sixth on the list, and Spurrier is fifth (138-37-1, 78.9 percent).
But this, I could have guessed (though six seems low):
Spurrier remains the league's winningest coach when only SEC games are counted with a success rate of 81.2 percent. Richt is sixth on that list (70.6 percent). In the six years since Richt arrived in Athens, Georgia has the best record in the SEC.
The rest of Josh Kendall's Georgia notebook is here. On Saturday we find out just how good this team is.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
The case of the missing title flags
I noticed Saturday that the 1942 and 1980 National Title flags weren't flying in their usual place over the eastern stands of Sanford Stadium. Apparently I'm the only one who cared, because I didn't see any coverage in the local papers.
So I called down to the Sports Information Department, who put me in touch with Charley Whittemore, assistant athletic director for facilities.
And given that he spells his first name just like Charley Trippi, and the fact that he has the keys to America's only perfect stadium, I'm going to go ahead and name him the luckiest man in the world.
But I digress. Whittemore said that, when they went to run the title flags up the flagpole, the rope broke. Probably dry rot, he said. They're trying to get a new rope installed and hope to have the flags flying on Saturday when South Carolina comes calling.
So I called down to the Sports Information Department, who put me in touch with Charley Whittemore, assistant athletic director for facilities.
And given that he spells his first name just like Charley Trippi, and the fact that he has the keys to America's only perfect stadium, I'm going to go ahead and name him the luckiest man in the world.
But I digress. Whittemore said that, when they went to run the title flags up the flagpole, the rope broke. Probably dry rot, he said. They're trying to get a new rope installed and hope to have the flags flying on Saturday when South Carolina comes calling.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
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