It was only six years ago today that the USA started using colors to alert its residents of the terror threat level.
What a joke.
If George Orwell was still around, he'd be all over those things. Alas, he'd probably be buried by our corporate-owned media anyhow, so really what does it matter?
What I'm wondering is when they're going to have neon warning signs for our drinking water? Boy, that story really blew me away. Millions of Americans are sipping up prescription and illegal drugs with every gulp of their eight glasses of water a day, and no one seemed to think we should know about it until now?
Turns out they don't clean out all of the drug residue when they recycle our water, and tiny, tiny amounts of it reach the population. Who knows what kind of problems this has already caused? How many more will arise?
I never realized that Roger Clemens' steroids weren't just his, or that every time Daryl Strawberry was partying away the 1980s, we were too (sort of)!
I'm hoping they find a way to remove the drug residue, but who knows? Here we thought water was safe. It's our pride and freedom. It's a symbol of life, and humanity has damaged it. To what extent, we don't yet know or understand.
We could really use a father figure calming us with his friendly fireside demeanor. But would it do any good?
On March 12, 1933 Franklin D. Roosevelt gave the first of his famed fireside chats in the midst of the Great Depression.
"Good evening friends," he said. 'Trust the banks. Pass my New Deal legislation.'
Things haven't changed.
Here we are on the brink of recession after another round of irresponsible banking and I wonder what good the New Deal really did. I mean a 'broker state' is fine if you're into your government juggling the spheres of your society and organizing them by financial importance (as opposed to actual importance).
Around this time Roosevelt also ordered people to turn in their gold. It was a brilliant move on the government's part. Now, we all slave to their paper.
Speaking of paper, David Carr signed a million-dollar, one-year contract with the Super Bowl champion New York Giants.
Lucky guy. He gets to back up one of the NFL's worst quarterbacks that won't get benched any time soon. All the ex-Carolina Panther Carr has to do is study and practice and he gets the dough.
Nice. If Eli Manning goes down, he gets performance bonuses, so all of his bases are covered. For the Giants, they think they're getting a steal, and they just might be.
I hate Eli. I can't say he can't play, because obviously the guy can scramble, avoid the sack and deliver in the clutch, but I can say he is inconsistent at best. At worst, he's terrible. If the Giants can unlock the mystery that is Carr since he was drafted in the first round, he just might end up helping them.
Today's terror color? For me, it's gray. The future is unclear on many fronts.
About Me
- samcam
- Seattle, WA
- I looked at everything and felt fine with it. You know, at peace. Not that everything was perfect. But it was life. I was living it, and that alone felt pretty damn good. But there was more than that. Much more. An unexplainable amount of goodness more. It was all this good stuff that made it even better. Worth it. Fun.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
On This Day: The Death of Chris Wallace and the End for D Wade, VCU
It was a dark day.
On March 9th, 1997 Christopher Wallace was shot and killed in a drive-bye shooting.
The loss of Biggie signaled the end of a hip-hop era and the genre was never the same. Gone were the days of lyrics. The days of cheesy, dancing beats and empty rhymes were on the horizon.
Wallace's life was a tragedy. He was a huge, larger-than-life personality spit out by the game he helped create. As far as he and the music he lived had seemed to come was as far both really fell.
The industry pushed negativity on a public that was eating it up. The responsibility of artists to make music they believed in didn't cross their minds when the money was flowing and the party was on.
It's as much a tragedy that the music didn't change after the loss of Wallace and Tupac Shakur as the losses themselves.
Throughout America, the violence persists. But, really, there's nothing we can do.
So we do sports.
They take us away from the drama. Or at least the real drama. Then again, they too, have a stake in drama.
Dwyane Wade got shelved by the Heat today. As courageous and heady a basketball player as there is, Wade fell victim to his own attacking attitude.
He doesn't lose his life.
But still, Wade has the pain and agony of surgery, recovery and rehab before he gets to give it another go next year. Have you ever had surgery? It sucks. Big time.
For his sake, hopefully he'll fall back on his jumper more often, and maybe Miami can fix the mess that is their team.
There is no fix when you don't get in the big dance.
Virginia Commonwealth's shot at an automatic bid ended Sunday. The victim of William & Mary's "Cardiac Kid's" third and final last-second miracle now has to wait to hear from the committee.
I hope they don't get in. Freeze them out like UDUB last year. Who cares about the winner of the CAA? Don't get it twisted, I really don't like Eric Maynor or the rest of the Rams, after they dropped Duke last year.
Not that I like Duke, not one bit do I like Duke, but me and gambling run into each other now and again. Usually, I end up leaving the meeting lighter in the wallet. This time was one of those times.
In summary, today I'm reminded that everyday is a gamble. You could win big, or you could lose big. Some losses are bigger than others. Some wins, meaningless.
On March 9th, 1997 Christopher Wallace was shot and killed in a drive-bye shooting.
The loss of Biggie signaled the end of a hip-hop era and the genre was never the same. Gone were the days of lyrics. The days of cheesy, dancing beats and empty rhymes were on the horizon.
Wallace's life was a tragedy. He was a huge, larger-than-life personality spit out by the game he helped create. As far as he and the music he lived had seemed to come was as far both really fell.
The industry pushed negativity on a public that was eating it up. The responsibility of artists to make music they believed in didn't cross their minds when the money was flowing and the party was on.
It's as much a tragedy that the music didn't change after the loss of Wallace and Tupac Shakur as the losses themselves.
Throughout America, the violence persists. But, really, there's nothing we can do.
So we do sports.
They take us away from the drama. Or at least the real drama. Then again, they too, have a stake in drama.
Dwyane Wade got shelved by the Heat today. As courageous and heady a basketball player as there is, Wade fell victim to his own attacking attitude.
He doesn't lose his life.
But still, Wade has the pain and agony of surgery, recovery and rehab before he gets to give it another go next year. Have you ever had surgery? It sucks. Big time.
For his sake, hopefully he'll fall back on his jumper more often, and maybe Miami can fix the mess that is their team.
There is no fix when you don't get in the big dance.
Virginia Commonwealth's shot at an automatic bid ended Sunday. The victim of William & Mary's "Cardiac Kid's" third and final last-second miracle now has to wait to hear from the committee.
I hope they don't get in. Freeze them out like UDUB last year. Who cares about the winner of the CAA? Don't get it twisted, I really don't like Eric Maynor or the rest of the Rams, after they dropped Duke last year.
Not that I like Duke, not one bit do I like Duke, but me and gambling run into each other now and again. Usually, I end up leaving the meeting lighter in the wallet. This time was one of those times.
In summary, today I'm reminded that everyday is a gamble. You could win big, or you could lose big. Some losses are bigger than others. Some wins, meaningless.
Brett Favre Takes an NFL Generation With Him
It's over, or is it?
If Brett Favre really has chucked his last off-balance, ill-advised pass down field into three defenders and an opening the size of a kicking tee while being draped by two hoggies thrice his size, somewhere there's a fat lady singing.
You can bet it's not Sonny & Cher's "I got you babe." No, the Groundhog Day that was Favre's career, is according to No. 4, over. Green Bay no longer has it's beloved, brash signal-caller. For my money, the large lady is probably busting out the Who's "I'm Free."
Wisonsinites, the NFL and football fans everywhere won't be singing along.
He gets to go home. He can go play touch football in his jeans on a farm somewhere. But we get left behind without a maverick. Football and the NFL have transformed into an American game of Roman proportions since the Atlanta Falcons decided it would be a smart idea to shop Favre. His retirement officially signifies the end of a forgotten football era.
For us left behind, we might just hear an overweight female singing a sad rendition of The Doors "The End."
But the end of what exactly?
The late 1980s through the mid 1990s were the glory days of football. It was before Spygate, before these annoying two- and three-back systems, before coaches tried to freeze kickers mid-snap and before unnecessary quarterback controversies overplayed by the vulturous media.
Remember when Joe Montana, then Steve Young passed the 49ers and Bill Walsh into the national spotlight? Jerry Rice was a superstar. He was no Randy Moss, then again he also was no Randy Moss! John Taylor, Roger Craig and Tom Rathman were studs.
How about Bo Jackson? What a player. There won't be another like him.
Barry Sanders, ditto. How many backs get the chance to carry the load anymore? The day of dizzying spin moves isn't over, but the day of devotion to one runner is.
How 'bout them Cowboys? For my money, as much as you can hate Troy and the 'boys, they weren't half the boring team Tom Brady and the Patriots are. Sure they score a lot of points, but Asante Samuel was no Deion. Laurence Maroney is surely no Emmitt Smith, and who is the Pats' Leon Lett?
Even the hapless Buffalo Bills, perennial playoff letdowns, are a type of team that won't be seen again.
Favre is not and never was an enigma. He was an above-average athlete that got to play through his personal shortcomings on the football field. It will never happen again. Never.
His records wouldn't be if he were starting today. He'd be killed by the media. Rex Grossman anybody? Give a guy a chance, he just might turn into a legend, but chances cost too much money nowadays.
How long till Tony Romo loses his starting gig? No, this is not the NFL's glory days. This is the end of them. This is when the NFL, like every other sport, over-markets its superstars (and unproven draft picks), over-hypes its games and forgets what made them great.
Favre was the underdog that always stood a chance. It was 17 years of you never knew what was coming.
This chapter of NFL history is now closed. It was glorious, and it flew by all to quickly. Adieu Brett, thanks for the memories.
If Brett Favre really has chucked his last off-balance, ill-advised pass down field into three defenders and an opening the size of a kicking tee while being draped by two hoggies thrice his size, somewhere there's a fat lady singing.
You can bet it's not Sonny & Cher's "I got you babe." No, the Groundhog Day that was Favre's career, is according to No. 4, over. Green Bay no longer has it's beloved, brash signal-caller. For my money, the large lady is probably busting out the Who's "I'm Free."
Wisonsinites, the NFL and football fans everywhere won't be singing along.
He gets to go home. He can go play touch football in his jeans on a farm somewhere. But we get left behind without a maverick. Football and the NFL have transformed into an American game of Roman proportions since the Atlanta Falcons decided it would be a smart idea to shop Favre. His retirement officially signifies the end of a forgotten football era.
For us left behind, we might just hear an overweight female singing a sad rendition of The Doors "The End."
But the end of what exactly?
The late 1980s through the mid 1990s were the glory days of football. It was before Spygate, before these annoying two- and three-back systems, before coaches tried to freeze kickers mid-snap and before unnecessary quarterback controversies overplayed by the vulturous media.
Remember when Joe Montana, then Steve Young passed the 49ers and Bill Walsh into the national spotlight? Jerry Rice was a superstar. He was no Randy Moss, then again he also was no Randy Moss! John Taylor, Roger Craig and Tom Rathman were studs.
How about Bo Jackson? What a player. There won't be another like him.
Barry Sanders, ditto. How many backs get the chance to carry the load anymore? The day of dizzying spin moves isn't over, but the day of devotion to one runner is.
How 'bout them Cowboys? For my money, as much as you can hate Troy and the 'boys, they weren't half the boring team Tom Brady and the Patriots are. Sure they score a lot of points, but Asante Samuel was no Deion. Laurence Maroney is surely no Emmitt Smith, and who is the Pats' Leon Lett?
Even the hapless Buffalo Bills, perennial playoff letdowns, are a type of team that won't be seen again.
Favre is not and never was an enigma. He was an above-average athlete that got to play through his personal shortcomings on the football field. It will never happen again. Never.
His records wouldn't be if he were starting today. He'd be killed by the media. Rex Grossman anybody? Give a guy a chance, he just might turn into a legend, but chances cost too much money nowadays.
How long till Tony Romo loses his starting gig? No, this is not the NFL's glory days. This is the end of them. This is when the NFL, like every other sport, over-markets its superstars (and unproven draft picks), over-hypes its games and forgets what made them great.
Favre was the underdog that always stood a chance. It was 17 years of you never knew what was coming.
This chapter of NFL history is now closed. It was glorious, and it flew by all to quickly. Adieu Brett, thanks for the memories.
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