nina got it wrong

when i was 21 and entering the heydey of my misspent college youth, i hit one particular jackpot and temporarily shacked up with a pure punk who was temporarily attending regis college much in the same way certain uighurs are presently attending guantanamo. (mom as combined cia and homeland security). her favorite fashion accessory was a spike-studded collar, and her favorite personal care routine was randomly festooning (i.e. piercing) the flesh on her forearms with industrial sized safety pins. (oh, yeah, the nuns just loved it). to say we looked incongruous would have been an understatement.

nina's pet embrace of me was as her "rocker". back living outdoors in central park with her crew (the way she spent her summers) i would have been regarded in much the same way generation x once-front-man billy idol reportedly and drunkenly assaulted zep and its entourage back in the day. it was just always hard for me, having grown up experiencing my music where headbangers first bloodied themselves against zep's stage back in '68, to sit still for what i always knew in my gut was an arbitrary and pointless distinction. but distinction it indeed was, and still is.

yes, i think, after all this, that nina surely got it wrong. i was surfing the wave of my shuffle play in the car the other day, and zep's "rock and roll" came on. double that drum line and the sound and emotion are even more punk than punk. like a bell it clearly recalls to me MC5's "kick out the jams" that i had immediately embraced among my elder brothers' college record collection, and it's impossible for me to say which came first, other than to say they BOTH did before sid vicious ever talked or took smack. no, you can't tell me i'd ever been a rocker in that way that late 70's, early 80's college kids grew to define it--sure, i wound up with some foghat on my 'pod, (and that's nobody's business but my own, as taj mahal would say)--but i still have more of what passed in its day for mayhem than can be casually dismissed as coincidence. buddy holly's been covered more times by more people just wishing, and ready teddy doesn't need to take a back seat to anything that just happened to have more overdrive on top of its cabinets. (speaking of which, i've got jon butcher doing not fadeaway on a cassette tape that always begs to be heard).

the irony isn't lost on me that the audience in that MC5 clip, that is most definitely NOT able to keep up with what they were putting down, is from a place kinda like central park.

riffing

joan baez was good enough to get me into one of those states...

those kids at the rancid show that didn't know... i realize even while i'm compelled to link this here that the beastie boys are already their father's music, and i'm halfway through the generation again toward being their gramps--but i can't help myself. snl's 25th anniversary's crowning moment...

but it's the original that stirred and created that reverential and referential moment, and deserves all the attention...

"i was tuning in the shine on the light night dial"

(steve nieve isn't in the rock and roll hall of fame for nothing).

"you'd better listen to the radio"

the pistols reportedly got bounced from the gig, but the angry young man in the buddy holly glasses gave us the next best thing, and snl was never the same. i was 17 and so ready--my aim is true went straight to the turntable and blew away everything else in my collection. from alison to pump it up, there wasn't a wasted moment on the entire record, and i was hooked. i wonder sometimes what might have become of me if johnny and sid had gotten into my ears first, but i know i'd always have fallen hardest for declan's way with the words. it wasn't just how he said it.

30+ years later the feelings still haven't changed. here's a guy who has collaborated with everyone from tony bennett to burt bacharach to paul mccartney to billie joe armstrong--hell, he even married the bass player from the pogues back in the day (though he's mellower now and shacked up with diana krall for irony)--and he's still the cultural model for the angry young man that no one quite ever duplicates, even while they try. warren zevon could maybe outdrink him, but nobody has ever made it past him on a stage that i've ever seen.

and joan baez sang one of his songs tonight, and it was beautiful.

how does one man do all that, and still have his seminal punk (YES, punk) anthem fall on indifferent ears--at a punk show, of all places???

"some of my friends sit around every evening
and they worry about the times ahead
but everybody else is overwhelmed by indifference
and the promise of an early bed
you either shut up or get cut up, they don't wanna hear about it
it's only inches on the reel-to-reel
and the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools
tryin' to an-EEE-sthetise the way that you feel..."

joan was writing protest punk songs on an acoustic guitar before i was even born, and sang tonight of woody guthrie through the words of steve earle, and took my breath away. there were no fists pumping, but somehow joe strummer, along with joe hill, was in the house.

oh, and did you notice?

daniel bard got the 8th in a 1-run-lead game today.

rumors are that even clay buchholz was fair halladay trade bait as far as the front office was concerned, but that the door shut tight when the conversation wound its way over towards the bard of beantown.

not your father's red sox

in the entire history of the boston red sox, only 8 men have stolen more total bases than jacoby ellsbury. (he's currently standing at 105, tied with chick stahl for ninth place). sure, tommy harper swiped 54 in '73, but within a year of setting that particular record, the club felt it necessary to trade him away for career .247 hitting (.293 slugging percentage, so it's not true that every one of his 283 career hits were singles) utility infielder bob heise. that's how much this team likes guys who run. (ironic that our most iconic post season moment is dave roberts' swipe of second against jorge posada and mariano rivera back in '04). well, set your watch because jacoby is going to run away with tommy's record, as well as all the rest of them related to the perennially slug-footed boston red sox, and it's finally not your father's boston red sox anymore.

the mark to beat is harry hooper's, set back in 1920. (an even 300). tris speaker is next (with 267), followed by captain carl (at 168, and i guess if you're winning triple crowns the organization looks the other way on the steals, though if you average it out by season, you can see that carl only swiped about 7 or 8 a year, so it's not like he was your classic speed merchant). heinie wagner (141), larry gardner (134), freddy parent (129) and bill werber and tommy harper (both with 107) are the only other guys left for jacoby to beat, and you know that by the end of this year, both the single-season steals record, as well as 7th place for the red sox all time, are in jacoby's bag, so to speak.

but before we lose our perspective here, it's worth noting that rickey henderson, jim rice's partner in cooperstown induction, retired with 1406. (that's one thousand, four hundred and six). rickey once swiped more bases in one season (130) than jacoby has so far in his entire career, and spent three years with the yankees setting their particular team record with 326. (i guess the bronx bombers aren't much for stealing, either). there's a long way to go to be worth noting in an all-time sense, but for bosox baserunners, we're looking right here at the new gold standard.

you go, jacoby

we all knew it had to come out, right

the ny times has broken the story that both manny ramirez and david ortiz appeared on the list of mlb players testing positive for PED's in 2003.

and we all knew it had to come out, right?

in '02, ortiz was a washed up and mediocre ballplayer that minnesota couldn't even trade, so they cut him. suddenly, in boston, as manny's teammate, big papi hit 30+ homers and 100+ rbi, and continued in that same way for the next four years, right up until MLB finally got serious about their testing, and, in much the same precipitous way that his stroke had surfaced, it all but disappeared again.

watching jim ed rice choose his words on this story is fascinating. his hope? that mlb exposes ALL the players who were juicing, and not just hanging out the big names to dry in the fickle winds of public opinion.

i've said it before, and i'll say it again--david ortiz stands for me as the greatest clutch hitter i have ever seen, and, possibly, has ever been. but it's also possibly true that the playing field wasn't level for him, and that's, i think, a big reason why jim rice is in the hall of fame today, and deservedly so.

there are some other '04 and '07 sox i'm convinced were also juicing, and their fall-off in production in '08 and '09 are my primary reasons why. (and, around the league, you can immediately see that they aren't alone). to jim's point, i think it's fair that they are stood up to be counted among those whose performances were enhanced by drugs and not simply by hard work and dedication.

my collection

i have a fair number of first-person live music stories of which i'm proud. (my very first arena concert was queen at the boston garden, which was also coincidentally the day that john bonham passed, and i'm here to tell you that roger taylor and the boys rightly amped it up that night).

once i was legal to chase music in bars, i was able to quickly add local boston acts like the cars to my portfolio, (who, let's be truthful here, were pretty lame live, even with beer involved), and many far better that it's too bad more people didn't get to see, like jon butcher axis. (who here remembers the sex execs?) out in the concert halls i could mention catching little feat, jackson browne and linda rondstadt, and everything from mellowing out with james taylor and joan armitrading at harvard stadium, to blowing my eardrums out on def leppard, scorpions and judas priest at the orpheum. (not loud enough? rick derringer at the knight auditorium at babson college is, i think, the loudest show i've ever been to, though it could have been where i was standing, which was RIGHT in front of the stacks, or that i'm just numb now to things like catching rancid at the palladium in worcester, and i just don't realize it). need to reassure yourself of my "sensitive" side? the very day after i bagged the mighty mighty bosstones and the dropkick murphys at lelacheur, i was going estrongenic at boardinghouse park with the indigo girls.

i saw buddy guy in a basement in harvard square, and elvis costello opening up for pat benatar at the cape cod colliseum, where they had zamboni machines adapted for vacuuming up broken glass from the parking lot after. john cougar (pre mellancamp) with heart at the worcester centrum, not to mention frank sinatra the night they first opened that place. i've seen dylan, and james brown, and aretha, and i've seen tuvan throat singers riffing on "amazing grace" with a gospel quintet.

want a rundown by instrument? sax? i saw clarence clemons and the red bank rockers at wellesley college, and maceo parker across the street from my hotel in nyc, and you gotta give the nod always to maceo. guitar? i know it's always jimmy page vs eric clapton with some folks, (yup and yup), and you heard about buddy guy a moment ago, but i'll tell you that carl johnson is, to my mind, more than well worth his weight, especially when he cuts loose on "what is and what should never be" and "let love rule", or most anything else for that matter, but that the most transcendant six-string experience i ever had was brian may every single time. (yeah, i've seen carlos santana, robert cray back in the day, and let me tell you he was once better than almost anyone, joe perry, with and without his project, and a whole slew more i won't even be able to remember, and i still will never change my mind that it's brian). piano? i'll tell you right now it's aretha. drums? i never saw john bonham, and even so i know no one else could ever compare, but ritchie hayward has to get a mention for me here, along with russ kunkel. bass? lee sklar, natch, but also ringo garza of los lonely boys. (the flourish upside down and backwards on his brother's guitar's e string got me for sure).

but i've never, until tonight, seen joan baez.

some musicians are touchstones for all that come after, and joan ranks up there with those. nope, she's not 20 anymore, or even 30, (the point after which you can't trust anybody, remember?), but she's who she is, and she'll in just a few hours be part of who i am, too.

gates crowley whalen redux

i swear i just turned on the TV to get the weather at that exact moment of noon yesterday, (how convenient for it to coincide with the noon news), and didn't go looking for this one, but i noticed that lucia whalen's attorney's remarks about the mischaracterization of lucia's 911 call included a jab about the "guy thing" of barack, skip and jim having beers at the white house. i don't know if she was also trying to say that things would have been different if it hadn't been two men on that porch, (measuring cop vs. black dick), but i believe that if she wasn't, she should have. (regarding the measurement, i still say we all lost).

and, in a related note about how profoundly lost and stupid some people can still be, huffington post has the details of a city of boston cop slash national guardsman slash ultra plus ultra idiot emailing the boston globe, along with all his cop and national guard buddies, his opinion on the gates/crowley/whalen matter for which he was compelled to include the sobriquet "jungle monkey". (really, justin? the BOSTON GLOBE?) i think we all need to reflect on this for a moment, because somewhere you know there's a guy like this with a gun and a badge taking out his private personal politics on an innocent homeowner of whatever color, and no amount of sgt crowley's profiling training is going to help this kind of thing until we all stand up and insist upon being counted. (makes one wonder if the profiling courses they're giving some cops are teaching them how to, instead of how not to).

where i work we have an acronym for things like this: CLM. as in, career-limiting move. fired is the least of the penalties deserved, but, seriously, the BOSTON GLOBE? i'm guessing it was one of the newspaper staffers that forwarded it straight to ed davis. not quite up there with dismembering your own baby and eating its brain, but close enough to make one wonder if somebody's mom ought to have at least considered it.

kids these days

rancid was awesome. i still had my original "and out come the wolves..." t-shirt, and the history of at least that much didn't go unappreciated among the babes in the punk woods. but i'm here to tell you you can never go home again, and nowhere is that more true these days than with the punkers.

first of all, billy talent, the opener, was complementary of just about everything from the boston red sox to all the polite gentleman with whom he was touring.

WTF???

if you're from toronto, (which billy is), then tell 'em the leafs rule--don't go mealy-mouthed about it and try twice to make nice about the bruins. it's punk, and, more than that, it's ICE HOCKEY. take a stand.

then there were the bits about how polite the boys from rancid and rise against are. first of all, WE DON'T NEED TO KNOW THAT. second of all, where was i? oh... NOT EVER.

and most of all...

by coincidence i had just dusted off all my stiff records vinyl just the other day, (remember wreckless eric?) and to hear ian dury and the blockheads during the intermission was pretty cool. of course, "sex and drugs and rock and roll" doesn't have the anthem-quality chorus it might need to get noticed in such a crowd, so there's a free pass needed for that, and it's ok with me that none of the polite kids in the pit were up on the words or taking much notice of it at all...

but then they layered in elvis (costello--there is no other) and "radio, radio". i KNOW in 1978 most all that crowd were not yet born, but it still amazes me how few people know the words. it couldn't be let to rest that way, and it was even more bizarre that the room was quiet enough that the pit boys could even hear me up on the balcony. "they're saying things that i can hardly believe / they really think we're getting out of control".

when it's the almost-50-year-old guy closest to getting--boston, we have a problem.

kids these days...

and out come the wolves...

i was 35 when i first heard "time bomb". ("black coat, white shoes, black hat, cadillac--the boy's a time bomb"). i had two kids and a job in cambridge and the #1 frustration of my summer was that the ride home from the train station was only 10 minutes and thus not nearly long enough to satisfy. (i told my wife at the time it was the hour-long train ride that required the change of employers, but i'll tell you right now that a sufficiency of time to listen to "and out come the wolves..." was not absent from the calculation). skip forward a summer and imagine the expectant father toiling on wall street... (consulting within the storied halls of jp morgan as a matter of fact...) catching word of a last-minute show at the roseland ballroom... dropping everything to head uptown... crashing a punk cataclysm of spiked mohawks and bare-chested mosh fanatics while still in his white shirt and dark blue pinstripe trousers... (the briefcase, tie and suit coat having been tossed to the roulette wheel of the coat check room...)

i'll always remain impressed with how just knowing the words is all you ever need to be welcomed into that world, regardless of how old you are, or how you're dressed, or how you look. these were never skinhead punks--these were always more than that. these were rancid.

it's the same 15 years later--i was shoe-horned up to the rail of the house of blues balcony to stand shoulder-to-sweaty-shoulder with kids who were barely born when rancid's first disc hit the streets so we could all tear out the chorus of "olympa wa". tim and lars and matt and branden ripped through maxwell murder, roots radicals, time bomb, olympia wa, ruby soho, and journey into the east bay from the record that set them apart, and still had time to mine everything from their debut to their latest. (which, i'm impatient to tell you, is still burning a hole in its cd sleeve until i have time to listen to it proper). the pit these days is downright polite, and the sound isn't nearly as loud as it should be, but somehow it'll always be just fine with me.

"little sammy was a punk rocker
you know his mama never understand him"

pro life, yeah right

i have no idea what deludes certain psychopaths into believing they're doing "god's work" by killing "abortion doctors", but murdering a physician in front of his entire family and church congregation and then having the ultimate life-affronting cowardice to plead "not guilty" is just about more than i can stand.

if you belong to a church that relates some notion of "life" with any notion of "abortion is murder", then i'm telling you there's a spot in hell reserved just for you right next to this guy. "aiding and abetting" is one way to put it, but any way you call it, this shit just has to stop. the ultimate irony is that this shithead hasn't even the courage of his religious convictions to "render unto caesar" and accept the consequences of his actions.

either life is sacred or it isn't. where do you stand?

would you like to win the lottery?

a lot of people like to play, so you have to figure a lot of people would answer such a question in the affirmative, but i'm quite convinced that we'd all be better off not winning any kind of lottery, whether for money, fame or a guest appearance on any show broadcast by MTV.

it's now coming to light that michael jackson was in the habit of using general anesthetic instead of an alarm clock. (the doctor would start the IV drip whenever MJ wanted to drop off, and then the drip would be stopped whenever it was time to rise and shine). never mind that propofol is actually not a recommended general anesthetic, but, rather, an induction drug, nor that it's also commonly used on horses and other large animals and not human beings so frail that the doctors administering CPR would be required to support his back with one hand in order to deliver chest compressions with the other. nah, why risk opioid addition (opioids being the general anesthetic of choice among doctors who are actually doctors and not drug dealers) when you can just roll the dice on the heart-stopping propensities of your favorite nightcap.

i'm quite sure MJ didn't really understand the first thing about the junk he was mainlining. i'm quite sure the "physician(s)" being paid to indulge his every bizarre self-abuse weren't all that clear on the concepts, either. however, observing MJ's signature crotch-grab tic and that one of the side-effects of propofol is involuntary muscle spasms, i think the investigators are coming up with all sorts of useful information for the rest of us nonetheless. (e.g. other side effects include sexual hallucinations and disinhibition, and i am NOT making this stuff up).

doddering

at least kent conrad is giving back the value of the benefit (at least as much as he was caught receiving, anyway--who knows about the rest) and acting somewhat contrite to that extent. how chris dodd can possibly continue to pretend he didn't know his back was being scratched and to what extent is beyond me to say. the guy is obviously crooked as his senator's pinnochio nose is long. (the latest ap story here).

the singing countrywide stoolie, robert feinberg, did testify that VIPs usually weren't told exactly how many points were being waived, (though it was being made clear to them that they were getting discounts), and i believe that much, too--kinda like ted stevens' home renovations in that way. not like half of new jersey collecting cash bribes in paper bags, but smarmy enough to make you cringe that this is the best we've been able to do as a country in our congress these days. teddy got himself what amounts to a pardon, and it won't surprise me if kent and chris end up with the same thing.

left and right. republicrat and demican. the only consistency is that we're the poor saps paying the extra freight, from our mortgage points and rates, to our taxes, and no one else.

can't help but point out that it's the party apparatus (and coincident judicial connections) that greases the wheels for all this stuff. sapere aude. vote unenrolled.

old man economics

years ago, as i was collecting various posters for decorating my various living spaces, i always made the lowest possible investment to get what i wanted. hence, my absolutely awesome first-release original A&M records 24" x 36" promotional poster of joe jackson's "look sharp" from 1978, with the iconic photo of the pointy white shoes, simply got taped to each successive residential wall, and never survived the years. (i used to clean the offices of A&M's local promo branch back in the day, and they were always kind enough to let me pick through the overstock when it was time to rotate in the next bunch of stuff, and i was always more than eager to take them up on their generosity). i even had august darnell's and cory daye's autographs on an insert for the original pressing of doctor buzzard's original savannah band, (yeah, the one with cherchez la femme and its great little lyrical jab at tommy mattola and his pre-mariah dating habits). yeah, yeah, i know, but only the vinyl in the sleeve survived safely among the stacks, and if it was on my wall, it was bound and destined for dog-eared demise.

this weekend i came by yet another assortment of prints for the abode, but instead of cvs for more scotch tape, my first stop today was down to the framers for some serious glass. the difference, of course, is beaucoup bucks, but though i'm still as flinty-cheap as i ever was, there's something about being old enough to know that you're going to want to have something around for awhile that's just enough to override the miserliness. when the guy on the street is hawking signed prints for $5, my head is already thinking about the old man 3-figure reality of that little impulse buy, because tape and such aren't going to cut it for me anymore. if it's worth buying, it's worth keeping.

the tour

as advertised, alberto contador took home the yellow jersey today. the big surprise of the overall race has to be andy schleck taking second in just his first tour. it's also worth noting that a 37 year old lance armstrong with short training was able to come back and place third.

those three could make next year's tour a real barn burner!

only in lowell

peter lavender's audio floss blog has a great piece on a great show i had the privilege to attend at the folk festival this weekend. first of all, just like peter says, tuvan throat singing is amazing. absolutely amazing. second of all, hearing a tuvan throat singer riffing on "amazing grace" with an a capella gospel quintet and a houston blues singer goes into once-in-a-lifetime territory, and you know anyone who saw it won't be able to help themselves from telling everybody they know about it for many years to come.

so i had some folks over for beer and what have you this weekend, and it was some time after the celebrated performance so that everyone who had been there was talking all about it. (me included). some musically inclined people in attendance couldn't help but be curious about the sound of it, and then that only-in-lowell moment had to happen. yes, as can only happen in the best place on earth, i know (but didn't know i know) a person who is a trained tuvan throat singer. well, actually, he's a trained turkish/uighur/central asian throat singer who happens also to be from new orleans, but the principle still applies, and i know because, in my place, with people around to confirm it really happened, the simultaneously earthly and heavenly harmonic tones of a talented musician able to carry two melodies at the same time with a single voice did exactly that. no gospel choir to back it up, but that's not on him or anyone else but the angels. it was truly cool. way truly cool.

and then, just because it always gets better in the best place on earth, we all got to cross the canal over to the tent show on jackson street, where melvern taylor and his fabulous meltones kicked off the city's best weekend (or anytime ever) quadruple bill, with jen kearney and the lost onion, los wundertwins del rap, and roll the tanks. yes, it's true, even with la's own "lowell invasion" punk power trio heading the bill, only one act and one set was able to blow the power on the street not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES and leave the crowd chanting for more more more. yes, melvern taylor and his fabulous meltones brought down the mill walls on both sides of the street, and ripped that up too for good measure, and i was there to see it.

lowell rocks!

ps, it's worth mentioning that sage guyton, front man for the lucky stars, was on the stage for the tuvan gospel choir phenomenon, and he brought down the house, when asked if he'd like to sing something next, that, no, he surely didn't. i thought of him when jen kearney and the lost onion had to take the stage right after melvern taylor and his fabulous meltones, and it's to jen's (and carl's and the whole band's) everlasting credit that she and they can carry such a thing off, and do it with style. (they started with the first three from their new album, year of the ox, in order, and just like on the record, and it was GREAT).

yup, lowell rocks!

"i don't like your hat"

or the way you talk out of it.

seems the anonymity boogeyman has more than rita mercier spouting off these days. lucky for them all and for me nobody reads this anyway. ;-)

le tour de status quo

the sprinters enjoyed the pleasant surprise of a sprint finish today on a stage featuring a near-ending category 2 climb--it would seem the other riders took it easy and chose to cruise home in the peleton rather than risk a crash on the narrow streets of aubenas. it's also testimony to the power of saxo's lead-out a couple of days ago that no one else in the field had yet recovered the stomach or the legs to try anything two days later. (those time trials are no picnic, either). bradley wiggins and andreas kloden essentially have only tomorrow to state their case, and you know andy schleck and lance armstrong (let's already assume alberto's got this one in a walk) are going to have both their eyes on the contenders, and nothing will be given for free. (and there's frank schleck only 21 seconds behind kloden, too...)

there's likely not a high probability of a major shake-up in the standings, but it's something to watch while getting ready for saturday afternoon's folk festivities, and it's always nice to get another look at the champions as they make their way towards glory.

and here comes the BBC...

as you could see coming a mile away when this one first hit the wires, skippy gates is getting exactly what he wanted from his peevish, racist rant against a white cop on his front porch the other day. can't help but continue to point it out, but the cop's judgment not to walk away after he ascertained that the suspect was, indeed, the homeowner in his own home, is the fulcrum upon which all the racist ranting rhetoric is being levered today.

a lot of folks are jumping to crowley's side due to the technical infraction of peace statutes, and his politely worded warnings about what was going to happen next. but that's exactly what gets me--gates WANTED to get arrested so he could complain publicly that he had been asked for ID in his own home. without the arrest, i'm guessing this all would have quickly come back on skippy for being a colossal asshole, from both black and white alike. the cop was where he should have been, doing what he should have done, and only a complete jerkoff fool disses a cop for trying to protect their property. but here's where judgment, the first amendment, and "a man's home is his castle" cause me to jump the crowley party ship.

if gates were ranting on my porch, or yours, or just about anywhere other than his, then i say arrest the MF'er and let him make his phone call to al sharpton. clear enough. but gates wasn't on my porch, or yours, he was on HIS. and, yeah, he was asking to get his ass kicked in jail to boot. but it's HIS porch. and he's an old guy with a cane, (who wasn't even using his cane when he came back onto the porch), and, i'm quite confident, not so much of a threat to that cop or anyone else in the vicinity for that matter. the right answer has to be to just let him go off, and remove yourself from the porch.

the cop himself was the catalyst for the breach of the peace at that moment, and there were LOTS of other cops there by that time who could easily have maintained safe order to cover crowley's retreat. but somehow this one guy decided his badge was bigger than everything else on that porch, and here we have the BBC making international sport of our entire country as a result.

chill, people. two small-minded big-ego'd men just had a dick-measuring contest and we ALL lost. that's the tragedy.

patrick murphy

patrick murphy, candidate for lowell city council, has produced another video commercial and posted it on youtube. no word on whether pink floyd may be filing a suit to distance themselves from the candidate as clyde (jackson) browne did the republican nominee for president over the past year, (settled just recently with an apology from john "what's a copyright?" mccain), but the production is good, and the messages are compelling.

the sitting council has cut back a couple meetings a month, continued to collect their 15,000 pieces of silver, and done nothing to bridge the ever-expanding gap between our falling city revenues and our rising city expenses, except for an artfully worded motion to fire andy sheehan over politics rather than finances, and that not even in an amount equal to the salaries of the six councillors (KMLEMC--Keep Making Lowell Elections More Competitive--Kazanjian, Mercier, Lenzi, Elliott, Mercier, Caulfield--remember them so you can forget them in november) who voted to fire him.

you go, patrick.

because I know you're all waiting breathlessly...

the big final time trial went off today in annecy, france, and, as was already obvious every single day of racing so far, nobody could touch alberto contador. his lead now stands at over 4 minutes, and he's wearing his yellow jersey going away. (props, though, to fabian cancellara who resurrected his fallen tour hopes for one last stretch for glory, and a second place stage finish).

most notable of the results was andy schleck's extremely respectable showing that enabled him to keep his grasp on the second podium place. armstrong has fallen off his prior time trialing dominance, not even cracking the top 10 for the stage, and he was only able to steal back 15 seconds from the champion from luxembourg. (lance however did take back enough from frank schleck to get himself back on the podium in third overall).

the real excitment down the stretch appears to be with track star bradley wiggins and astana's #3 guy, andreas kloden. only 2 seconds separate the two, and only wiggins' extra 11 seconds today gave him the overall edge. the next couple of stages will undoubtedly be a war between the two, even if the third podium place is never reliquished by lance or andy. top 5 is, after all, top 5, and 4 is always better than 5.

so, can lance find more than a minute in two relatively minor stages before the last joy ride into paris? (and brad and/or andreas?) or has andy announced his arrival as contador's single and extremely worthy rival for the next tour?

tomorrow and saturday we find out for sure.

OH! and another thing...

not that one has anything to do with the other, necessarily, (though shoes sometimes do end up fitting the most unexpected people), but a couple of new jersey mayors and a state legislator were arrested (along with a bunch of rabbis of all people) in a multi-state corruption sweep by federal prosecutors this morning. (first break of the story here).

i expect this one is going to be a LOT of fun, so stay tuned. i also am sadly disappointed that the city of lowell isn't going to have the same national interest as hoboken, new jersey, (how's THAT for reminding you how small and inconsequential your city really is), but we can dream, can't we?

but it's UNFAIR

i got a big kick out of vice mayor rita mercier's whining outburst at the last city council meeting that she feels unfairly put upon by the anonymous cowards of the internet. well, that, i guess, would be me among others, and, well, rita, you can just kiss my cowardly and anonymous internet ass. try responding to the ideas, instead of your ruffled peacock feathers.

first of all, not all critics of the "gang of six" (KMLEMC--Keep Making Lowell Elections More Competitive--Kazanjian, Mercier, Lenzi, Elliott, Mercier and Caulfield--remember them so you can forget them in november) are anonymous. (you know the gang of six--those are the folks who smugly know that firing a city employee via legal elimination of the budget line item for his salary doesn't offend the letter of the law that prohibits "plan E" city councils from dabbling in individual personnel matters, even if it spits squarely in its face). well, the left in lowell and the right side of lowell folks are not least among the voluntarily self-identified critics, and, second of all, the point of public criticism of elected officials is NOT the identification of those offering the opinions. the opinions either stand or fall on their own merits, and if a public figure doesn't like it, they should ask themselves why they are having such trouble mustering an excuse against the critiques other than ad hominem rants against those who would offer them.

our american revolution was promulgated by many pamphleteers, like thomas paine and his "common sense", who published their anti-tyranny opinions anonymously. ("written by an englishman"). now, TRUST ME, i'm not equating my little self-absorbed nonsense here as bearing any resemblance at all to tom paine's world-shaking expositions. but i am saying that i don't give a rat's ass about rita mercier's complaints that i'm not dragging my kids and my friends into the ruckus of public politics in order to offer my sincere opinion that she's a self-obsessed populist hack in love with her own voice and stridently opposed to bettering the city of lowell if it comes at the expense of any of her personal interests, or those of her private associates. if she wasn't, then why would she ever feel compelled to break the law (she bragged about it publically on the radio, after all) and fire a city employee over a disagreement regarding his demeanor, while doing absolutely nothing significant against the multi-million dollar shortfall in the 300 million dollar city budget? (you couldn't find ANYTHING else rita? anything at all???).

heck, i'm not really even dragging my anonymous self into the ruckus of public politics most days, as you can see from my endless sporting obsessions for the tour de france and the boston red sox. (just wait until the world cup).

rita, we're all waiting for you to say and do something of honesty and substance. (that is, besides sharing the shallowness of your heart-felt interpersonal opinions). i'm quite sure it's most frustrating to you that you can't abuse your position on the city council to have me fired for my impertinence, but you'll get used to it. there are a lot more observations to be anonymously made between now and november, and, like clockwork, you're good for as many as any of your other five buddies among the gang of six.

KMLEMC!

gotta love the AAA pittsburgh red sox

adam laroche is the latest addition to theo and tito's little ball club, and it's obviously a sign that mikey lowell is not going to be a reliable option down the stretch. it certainly solves the hole in the lineup whenever mike is ailing, which isn't a bad thing, but it does little to address the faint and funny smell starting to come from the back end of the pitching rotation, nor does it do enough to answer the fetid stench emanating from right field. (unless its meant to help mark kotsay become the starter there, which, now that i think about it, doesn't sound all that bad to me). yup, it's a semi-powerful and semi-reliable left-handed bat, and that's something these days. maybe the environment will do as much for adam as it did for his old and now new again teammate jason bay. (wonder if he's ever played outfield before?)

good guys and their finishes

a great example of sportsmanship rewarded today, another closely offered, and one other to be lauded none the less than either of the other two for its ultimate futility.

a few days ago, vladimir efimkin sleazed a free ride towards the stage front by a number of other riders stiving for the stage win. he broke for the finish line with just a few meters to go, in the most un-sporting of efforts to steal the best efforts of honest riders for his own ill-gotten gain. it was most rewarding to watch him caught at the end, and left with nothing to show for his perfidy. (as one of my childhood friends used to put it, when the world is working as it should--cheaters never prosper).

by great contrast today, alberto contador played the consummate champion, and ultimate sportsman, in a similar tactic to ride others' slipstream to the finish. being the race leader, and enjoying the benefit of the free pull to distance himself from all the other riders, he was never tempted by the final forbidden fruit. with kilometers still to go, alberto could be clearly seen talking to his challengers to assure them of his honest intent not to challenge either of them for the stage win that had been earned by their leading efforts. sure enough, andy and frank schleck were freely able to elect frank the reward for his masterful efforts of the day. kudos to alberto for being both a champion, and a sportsman.

second is among the chase riders, where andreas kloden had been left by the violent attack by his captain, contador, on the back of the relentless challenges of the brothers schleck. lance armstrong had been dispatched well back to mark the wheel of bradley wiggins, and his catapulting over the top once wiggins had been completely broken still left him some distance to recover. when lance had finally combined with also-ran vincenzo nivali to tear down the mountain in a shared convoy of racing effort, it was several clicks before the finish when he caught up with the solitary kloden. though clearly the strongest rider left, and well capable of taking back some more of the lost minutes caused by his domestique duties, lance instead opted to lead kloden's wheel, and to carry him as closely as possible to the finish, to preserve overall team minutes, and to selflessly aid kloden's personal quest for a podium finish at the expense of his own. remarkable.

lastly, we have the ultimately futile, though no less noble for it, efforts of christian vande velde in aid of his teammate and team leader, bradley wiggins. not yet one of the ultra-elite riders of le tour, christian was comfortable taking his place among the merely elite some distance behind the second chase group when the peleton first broke at the foot of the col de la colombiere. suddenly, the schlecks at the front put the maul to the anvil, and the sharp end of the peleton also shattered. alone amidst a pack of wolves, wiggo, as he's called by his team, was surely to be torn to shreds...

with amazing grit and courage, christian summoned the effort, which would have finished most any other rider all by itself, to reach up to wiggins' wheel in the next group. once there, and out of complete sight of the leaders, christian put his shoulder to the wheel once more, and gave no less than his own heart to labor his man back up the gap. dogged by armstrong, the machiavellian assassin left to ensure no hope of ultimate success, and without anyone else to help him, christian poured his last ounces of blood and sweat out onto the pavement on the climb of the col de la colombiere, and didn't break until almost at the summit, some 10 kilometers up a grade which often reached 15% on its way. you and i could probably not hike it without a rest, let alone hurl ourselves on bicycles without collapsing in a heap. but vande velde threw himself, not once, but twice into an abyss of oxygen debt and excruciating pain, once to cross a daunting gap, and next to attempt to cross what he obviously knew was uncrossable. but he led himself out, anyway, just because it was the right thing to do for a teammate.

alberto is almost surely already in yellow in paris, and lance is but a minute within range of a podium finish as well. (it'll be quite the interesting time trial tomorrow). andreas kloden, if he is to come along as well, has it also within his grasp, if he can find the strength. (not to forget the schlecks who are proving luxembourg truly proud today, and serious contenders to break astana's grip on immortality). but christian vande velde will probably never be remembered for having given his all for a man who cannot hope to break the gang of five at the front. it's a shame, but, to me, this'll be his day ahead of all of them.

pride of the usa. hats off to you, christian.

now THIS is a race

the twin anvils of the col de romme and col de la colombiere provided the backdrop for near-constant hammering of saxo's schleck brothers against the garmin upstart, bradley wiggins, and the still-unbreakable astana lineup. unique among the contenders, (other than astana), saxo can send two top-echelon riders into the final crucible of each of the mountain stages. astana, of course, though they used to have four until levi leipheimer shattered his wrist, still have three of the best riders in the race, and an incredible embarrassment of riches whenever the call is made for the race stars to step up.

what has been most exhilirating (and worthy of great american patriotic pride today) is to find that christian vande velde of the garmin team has somehow mustered the grit to lead his teammate wiggins' wheel after brad was initially cracked on the final ascent of the day. christian broke, of course, before the end, but not before he amazed everyone with not one, but two claw-backs to stay by wiggins until the last possible moment that guts and sinew could allow, and all this after he had to summon a herculean effort to climb back to the contenders in the first place when it became evident that the schlecks (and contador and kloden, of course) were greater than his man today.

the real message, however, is contained between the lines of the various challenges and desperate responses. two schlecks would normally be enough to break most riders of quality, but not alberto contador, and certainly not when he is not alone. but astana have not just one, but two domestiques increables, in kloden and armstrong, and there's hardly any crevice into which to pry any lever. astana could afford to dispatch armstrong once again back to the chase group, to dog the laggard(s). sure enough, wiggins found himself in need to provide all the energy for cruising armstrong up the hill, without any chance to improve his own standing. meanwhile, up at the front with the schlecks, contador had kloden with him, at least until alberto himself provided the break that peeled kloden just that little bit off the back of the foursome, and into the no-mans land between the first group and the second.

not since 1914 has any team provided all three riders to the podium in paris. today, when armstrong blew wiggins away with 2km to go until the summit of the col de la colombiere, and flew to the descent, he put the exclamation point on the possibility. the schlecks had no choice but to lead contador to the finish, and kloden and armstrong both enjoyed free rides down the hill in their wake.

it's a curiosity of bike racing that strategy is a not-so-secret trump card to amazing stamina and resolve. simply by grasping small snatches of time in the earlier stages, contador buys himself, and his teammates, armstrong and kloden, a slightly easier ride. it's the sport, and it's the hard truth that the challengers must learn and overcome if they ever want to challenge for the yellow jersey. you might argue that contador made a mistake and cost his teammate, kloden, some precious time by alberto's mis-timed attack, but astana are still in good position in this race.

preparing yourself

the sox are slipping in the standings owing to a painful lack of hitting since the all star break. we all know many of these guys are simply "overdue", and we'll be scoring again soon enough. but more troubling are the cracks that are evident in the basic foundation of this year's squad. we failed last year on nancy's inability to hit a baseball when it counts, but there's nothing to this year's team that suggest he'd necessarily even get the chance this time around.

first of all, for all his speed and ability, jacoby ellsbury is not yet fully sufficient as a lead-off hitter. tito's emphasis on this point has been to demote jacoby down into the bowels of the order, but the main problem with this managerial tactic is that all the other lead-off options are not just insufficient--they are outright awful. (jd drew's sub-mendoza line while at the top of the order is particularly horrifying). the good news here is that if jacoby can be taught a little patience at the plate over the next couple of months and learn to draw a few more walks, his hitting and baserunning are both A1.

second of all, for all our aspirations for the pitching rotation at the start of the season, this stable of starters is flawed at best. ironically, clay buchholz is the real deal and can (and should be) one of the five down the stretch. but between matsuzaka finally being exposed this year as the nibbling fraud he's likely always been, and penny being little more than a batting practice pitcher with a little extra velocity, not to mention smoltz being very little of the pitcher he thinks he is anymore, we're learning just how critical it is that tim wakefield's aging back is not going to leave him as an everyday starter on a full season basis no matter how many all star invitations he receives. beckett is good, as is lester. that's two. buchholz is too. that's three. a couple days a week we're going to be hoping on timmy, and rolling the dice on whatever is next. that's hardly the way things were advertised back at the start of april. (worth noting that three good starters is often enough to carry a team through the playoffs, so this is more of a concern in holding off tampa and texas for the wild card than it is a post season problem).

thirdly, we're just two-thirds of a respectable outfield, and that's a serious issue. middle infielders and catchers are often indulged a little softness in their piece of the batting order puzzle, but except for a centerfielding stud with a glove, there's no place on any quality team for guys who can neither hit nor get to the balls that are hit into their area. (that sinking liner that dropped within a foot or two of jd drew as he was *backing up* to corral it was especially painful last night, but it's happening every other game these days and it's a real problem). baldelli isn't hitting as he'd need to move ahead of nancy in the depth chart, even if his fragile health would allow him, and kotsay has the hospital bug himself these days, so where are we?

fourthly, there's thirdly again. mike lowell's bat is becoming painfully obvious as to be the key to everything. he's necessary protection to mr. jason bay, and it's no coincidence that his absence has coincided with j-bay's swoon at the plate. if he can't be carried in the order every day, (perhaps as a DH with papi at first?), the hole in the outfield is going to be multiplied with the squishiness at catcher and shortstop, and we're going to have to get used to our beloved sox as being a mere shadow of their former swaggering selves. starting pitching could help cover that up, if only we had a full contingent of stuff...

lastly, there's all the intangibles that accumulate... our catchers are remarkably weak at the plate. our shorstops are both extremely young, and untested when the pressure is on down the stretch and into the playoffs. our third baseman is gimpy, and our DH is in decline. our right field is a swamp of lackluster defense (though with a decent arm at times) and painfully inept hitting.

we do have a bullpen... and youk and petey are incredible assets... it just doesn't seem like enough to rely upon to go all the way.

somebody or two or three is going to have to step up!

i know you are but what am i

i was wondering this morning how a high court judge might interpret our civil rights statutes when it can be logically concluded by the evidence at hand that both parties to a dispute are raging lunatic racists?

probable tourette's sufferer skip gates is going to get a lot of mileage out of his arrest, which he conveniently provoked by being an absolute jerk-off ass. but it's hard to sympathize with nappy-hair triggered jim crowley, whose sense of humor must have been found somewhere within the dog-eared pages of his copy of mein kampf. (you can't go fully polemic in any argument without bringing in a reference to hitler, so i've gotten mine out of the way right up front).

i'm at least able to rationalize gates' peevish toddler rant, because i lived through the sixties and it's pretty clear from whence he got his point of view. (i said rationalize, not sympathize--despite a white criminal once trying to skewer a black bystander with a flagpole on the steps of a federal building 40 years ago, it does NOT mean all white guys who weren't even born at the time in question are guilty of something similar today--though it is true that the black guy happened to be a lawyer...) ok, bad, tasteless joke...

i have NO idea what crowley could have been thinking to drag an elderly cane-wielding cripple off his own front porch for impertinence and using bad language, but i'm hopeful the city of cambridge will find their way clear to put him into a position of the kind of authority which befits him. as in, whenever will forte eventually moves on, this guy quite possibly needs to be sent down to NYC to audition to do the zell miller gig.

there. now i've got that off my chest. hopefully the tour de france will heat up quickly today, and i'll be able to forget about this lunacy for a few hours.

pre, post or

mouth off to a cop for being asked your ID while you're in the middle of a reported crime scene having just committed the act for which you're being investigated, just because he's white and you're black? sorry, skip, you're a racist.

arrest an old man with a cane on his own front porch just for mouthing off, and try to pretend it's not relevant that he's black and you're white? you're a racist.

so here we're now in the middle of more ink being spilled than for MJ (who we're really not sure anymore whether or not he was either black OR white) and being given an opportunity to discuss the state of racism in america.

can we all just sit down, shut up and relax about this??? gates is a pre-racial racist with a bug up his butt, and the cop is a pre-racial racist with a bug up his butt, too. the combination of so much idiocy on the same front porch was more than the universe could stand, so here we are.

this isn't about whether or not we're living in post-racial america. this is about two absolute morons who are getting exactly what they deserve--gates, a trip to the station for being an asshole, and this white cop for all the world of crap that's going to come down on him for being a small-minded and little, little man.

i don't think anyone is advancing their point of view by trying to use this as an example for anything, but, geez, it's painful to hear them try.

all right, this is officially ridiculous

bill clinton, by virtue of being a public figure and the arch enemy of the political opposition, was the vehicle by which malfeasing opponents wasted $40 million us dollars in the blind pursuit of ANYTHING that would stick. (about all they found was some residue on a blue dress--how's that for a return on our taxpaying investment).

now, in alaska, by virtue of being a public figure and the arch enemy of the opposition, sarah palin has become the logical equivalent vehicle by which malfeasing opponents are willing to spend unguessable sums in blind pursuit of ANYTHING that will stick. (nothing yet has).

the most amazing development in the palin imbroglio is an ethics commission finding that she can't tap the voluntary contributions of supporters to her legal defense fund, opining that (and here i cut and paste directly from the AP) 'an ordinary citizen facing legal charges is not likely to be able to generate donations to a legal defense fund. "in contrast, governor palin is able to generate donations because of the fact that she is a public official and a public figure. were it not for the fact that she is governor and a national political figure, it is unlikely that many citizens would donate money to her legal defense fund." '

WTF? (capitals this time)

she's only under bizarre and unreasonable scrutiny because she's a public official and a public figure, (the ethics investigations have found absolutely nothing that's she's indictable for), and it's extremely bizarre to me that a commensurate legal defense should be denied just because she's not kennedy wealthy.

now, don't get me wrong, i'm vituperatively against sarah palin being left in charge of anything. she's ruined the finances of wasilla, alaska, and she's done things while in office like change public policy to require rape victims to have to pay for the materials for their own rape investigations, and she thinks that public education should omit darwin's theory and remain creationist only. (yeah, that'll catch us up to the rest of the world in scientists). she's wholly unqualified to hold office, imho, except for perhaps a beauty queen position for which she had previously dedicated her life to achieve.

but let's be serious for a moment. by sheer weight of non-evidence, one has to conclude her faults are sincere ones--she's just an idiot--and not corrupt ones. (the ethics probes are all coming up goose eggs, despite huge efforts to persecute her.

so, sarah, i'm with you on this one. the dogs are loose in the yard because you're a political target, and there's no sane argument to deny you the means to defend yourself for it. here's to a successful legal defense, and staying out of national politics because i sincerely believe you and joe biden are just about equally terrifying as a veep, let alone a candidate for president.

le domestique

when the schlecks took their shot today up the front of le col du petit st bernard, andreas kloden finally was raised to contribute his effort, and he (seemingly) effortlessly cruised up to his post beside alberto contador's wheel. andreas was there, right by alberto, stroke for stroke, while the attack was pressed by the upstarts. just behind, in a group of otherwise and supposedly impressive riders, cadel evans and carlos sastre lingered...

sastre has been piqued these last couple of weeks at the perceived disrespect implied by the copious press treatment of team astana and others. he's the defending champion, (though he never bested contador, who was disinvited to last year's tour for the misbehavior of other team members), and within a reasonable gap of the race lead, and adamant and insistent, almost to the point of peevishness, that he is not to be underestimated...

so, to ride with sastre, along with evans, who was last year's (and the year's before, for that matter) second place finisher, bruyneel dispatched his loyal domestique, lance armstrong...

as the seconds stretched and the breakaway chase pulled further and further up the mountain, it could be read like a pulp tragedy on the faces of the would-be's--there would be no hanging on for either sastre or evans today...

so lance, as easily as you or i might jog up a flight of steps to catch someone walking further on, jogged up on his pedals, and pulled back the chase, and the broken schleck he passed on the way, (only andy would be able to survive his own attack, and frank was left to make his own way as best he could), to rejoin contador and kloden as if he had just stopped a moment to tie his shoelace.

this is the life of johan bruyneel, manager of team astana. when there is dirty work to be done, he can pull his third-best rider up to the front to ride shotgun for his ace, while he dispatches his finest assassin back to set the deadly ambuscade. and after the deed is done, and still while the blood has barely been wiped from the knife, he can call his loyal minion back up to the side of his king, and they can collect the grim clenched-jawed defeat of their rivals as their souvenir token, to accompany the unassailed yellow jersey and team race lead.

it was wetwork up upon les cols du saint bernard today, and it will only get more difficult for the challengers tomorrow. watching armstrong pull the yeoman's duty, to have to mark sastre and evans, and yet still climb back the lost distance after they were extinguished, was to watch a remarkable competitor. even if he does not return to the yellow jersey again during this tour, i will be satisfied to have seen what i was treated to see today. and never enough can be said about contador, who is as in control of this race as i have ever seen a racer.

the thin blue line

no, this isn't more fun-poking at the circus in cambridge yesterday.

it's not even an homage to liz larin, whose song by that name is one of my favorite kicking sonic walls of wanting.

"it's just a thin blue line
rising from her cigarette and vanishing in air
it's just a thin blue line
between me here and you over there"

it's not even completely appropriate for the purposes to which i'm intending to employ it, as the astana colors are both blue and yellow, in addition to white...

but there it is, cycling inexorably up the side of the col du grand st bernard, chewing up the chasers and spewing broken dreams out the back of the peleton like so many discarded and empty water bottles. contador is there in his yellow jersey, and he is ensconced as caesar with his praetorian guard--lance armstrong in his black helmet, led out by the rest of the cohort of popovich, zubeldia, and paulinho. rast and muraviev were there to lead them out at the start of the climb, and set the pace that would break so many wills so early in a major alpine stage. popovich, zubeldia and paulinho are the muscle to pull the heart of their team up over the top. andreas kloden sits back, conserving all his energy for what will come later, on the col du petit st bernard across the valley.

this is the juggernaut of team astana. they can burn their least domestiques breaking down all but the most elite teams. they can control the peleton and set the pace that suits THEIR leaders, and no one else. they can hold a rider back with the pedigree of andreas kloden, a leader on almost any other team, to save him as a millstone to be hung around the neck of any individual who would try to challenge on the main and final climb. and then, at the front, they still have a locomotive of three bruising climbers to lead the charge up the second col, and, finally, at the heart of it all, is the only man who has won seven tours, who is but the water carrier for the ultra plus ultra of world cycling right now, alberto contador.

how can anyone dream to compete?

you can attack as a team, and you know you will only fail. you can attack as a guerrilla in a quixotic breakaway attempt, but you will be dogged by one of the top 5 riders in le tour, who will consume your best effort in order to coast to the line ahead of you. or you can try desperately to survive the gauntlet of the peleton, whose pace is led, one after another, by three of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. and then, when you are all but used up, you will be looking at the back of the most fearsome and bloodless of the four, lance armstrong, as he leads the wheel of the only man who matters anymore--alberto contador.

for seven years, no one was able to best lance. one man has proven this year that he finally can, but he is the one whom lance now protects.

and watch, because andreas isn't done, and his day of anonymous travel will give him more than most at the end.

le col du petit saint bernard will be here soon. turn on versus, and see it for yourself.

some people can't be told you know

it seems a rite of generational passage that kids will fail to understand how old people (i.e. those the age of their parents and grandparents) think and behave, and it's certainly no better in the other direction.

today, in cambridge, dr. henry louis gates, jr. was questioned by a police officer who was investigating a reported break-in at his house. best that can be deduced by the circumstances, gates had forgotten his house key, and had just done what we've all done before, which is break into his own home. so far so good. right away, a neighbor called the local police to report a crime in progress, (the eyewitness was right there to confirm it when the first officer arrived), and a confrontation and questioning of an unknown individual answering the description of the suspect was quick to ensue. also so far so good.

now here's where crazy meets crazy. first of all, and in a complete farce, i might add, the homeowner decided not to be appreciative of the local constabulary's interest in the security of his property, and set in to ranting about the intrusion. in this case, pops gates happens to be black and of a certain generation, so he sees white cop and cannot wait for reason to pull out the old race card. doesn't matter that he's in the middle of a reported crime scene and perfectly matching the description of the perpetrator, because he is, in fact, by virtue of breaking into his own home, ironically enough, actually the perpetrator. i don't mind saying this appears to me as so patently ridiculous a situation as to be the surest evidence that, in fact, it's gates who is the unrepentant racist--bellowing at a white cop for doing exactly what he's been trained and paid to do--but i'm just an old white guy, so what do i know.

next, and here's where gates will (unfortunately for us who will have to read about it) have his day in court--the cop gets so incensed about having been challenged, he finds it necessary, even after being assured of the identity of the homeowner to reasonably conclude it is, indeed, dr. henry louis gates, jr. acting like a three year old on his own front porch, he's compelled to lock the old man in handcuffs and haul him down to the station. off his own front porch. after the cop knew exactly who he was and for sure he wasn't the burglar as was first reported. for no better reason than (i believe) he feared his penis was too small, or something like that. because i can think of no other possible reason.

wtf

this was all so not necessary. one's a crazy old man whose entire view of the world is locked in a 1960's time warp, and the other is a plain and simple coward. henry, don't mouth off, just show him your ID. and, geez, mr. policeman, take a chill pill and walk away, will ya? just the wasted court time to let the idiot rant his racist polemics alone is too much bother, and we haven't even got to the part where al sharpton is going to be involved... nuts and nuts.

TERRY!

tito is locked in again as he so often gets, and his obvious left-handed lineup favorite, mr. o-fer-toronto, has been all that civilized sox fans can possibly stand without sticking corndog sticks in their eyes. in 14 leadoff starts this year, nancy resembles no one so much as mario mendoza's younger and weaker-hitting sister--.190 with a sub .300 OBP--and someone has to do something about this pretty soon, or the entire red sox nation is going to throw itself (or SOMEBODY) into boston harbor. (the guy is 7 for july, for chrissakes, with 16 strikouts).

i'm wondering if anyone in the brain trust has considered letting mikey lowell do the DH thing, with mr. ortiz covering first? sure would be a different lineup with him in it every day. the other obvious observation is that rocco can play right, as can mark kotsay, for a workable platoon while nancy reacquaints herself with actually swinging a baseball bat, instead of just carting it back and forth across the infield apron every couple of innings.

shortstop is so not this team's problem.

alps? who needs alps?

alberto contador said it again, as he's been saying it quietly all along this tour--when there's tough riding to be done, nobody, and that means NOBODY, can keep with him. lance is a gamer, and still in second place overall, but we're not even in the hardest climbs of the alps and contador is playing catch-me-if-you-can with everybody else in the pack. astana may be showing its champion, and armstrong is a pretty impressive #2 guy to have.

still unsettled is third place in le tour, (let alone second), where bradley wiggins made a huge statement for himself today by staying only a minute and six seconds behind contador to finish along with frank schleck and last year's winner, carlos sastre. interestingly enough, frank's brother, andy, was able to stay within 43 seconds of alberto, and this podium is by no means settled. wiggins is only 9 seconds off armstrong's second place pace, and enjoys a 31 second advantage over astana's new #3 guy, andreas kloden. andy schleck is only 9 seconds behind that. (rinaldo nocentini, it was nice while it lasted...)

great stage today! catch the rerun if you can.

don't turn your back

seems mighty mighty curious to me that the one day the generally-astana-led peleton doesn't mark a rider with a shot at yellow, it happens to be the day when said rider is a friend and former teammate of lance armstrong. george hincapie gave it his best shot, and his best shot turned out to be five seconds too slow to catch the maillot jaune, but good enough to displace alberto contador for second place overall in the tour. four riders are now within 10 seconds of each other at the top of the standings, (nocentini, hincapie, contador and armstrong), and french rider christophe le mevel slid himself into fifth place, encouraging an entire country. (the french inability to top le tour rivals england's futility at wimbledon for home-town feelings of embarrassment and frustration). bradley wiggins, andreas kloden, (now astana's #3 guy), and tony martin (a german, believe it or not, his name notwithstanding, and teammate of george hincapie) round out the group within a minute of the lead. the 9th place rider and third best american in the race, christian vande velde, is 1:24 back. (usa! usa!) the schleck brothers of luxembourg are 10th and 14th. the third best spaniard, carlos sastre, coincidentally last year's winner, is 17th, 2:52 off the pace, and 36 seconds behind the second best spaniard, luis leon sanchez.

i'm not sure i can remember a race with so many riders just a short few minutes off the lead. suggests to me that some folks at the front are sandbagging it so as not to defend the yellow so soon, (yes, i mean you, astana boys), and some serious attacks will be coming on tuesday's stage in the alps.

can't wait!

julie, we hardly knew ye

one of the shortest stories on yahoo sports today is also one of the most intriguing for those of us who have been watching jed lowrie's rehab starts at lelacheur park in lowell. looks like the nicky green era is officially here.

"red sox designate SS lugo for assignment".

what it means to love your sport

speaking perfect english with an australian accent, heinrich haussler, an australian-born german, riding a bicycle in france, said "it means a lot to me. you could see on the finish line what happened. the emotions just went crazy on me. i couldn’t hold the tears back". it was just a stage win, and a rider in no hopes for finishing the race in any sort of favorable position, but it was more thrill than he could bear without tears. how can you not love a sport like this?

not for americans

appreciating the whole of le tour de france is the kind of thing about which american sports fans seem to have great trouble. we were plenty stoked for greg lemond's historic trips atop the podium back in the day. we were even more so about armstrong's dominance for an uprecedented seven straight wins more recently. however, we seem to lack the attention span for anything deeper or broader than a brief synopsis of the final victory--i guess to reinforce our provincial belief that we're exceptional in this world without burdening us too much with the details about how it happened--the race cliff notes, as it were.

a perfect example is the typical shrug that greets word that the race standings remain virtually unchanged after a cold and rainy day of racing today. missing from that glossed-over synopsis is the portentious crumbling of the giant peleton that had been riding together for so many days, and astana's driving of the main group to where it had to separate, and separate the men from the boys. several dozen riders, and all the top contenders, were grouped at the front as it happened, so its possible to miss the inescapable conclusion that it was not, as it might first appear, a comfortable ride for most. if it were, then surely many more would have uncomfortably kept up. but, no, the discomfort of the best means the besting of the next tier of riders, and, sure enough, they were pruned off the cols of alsace like so many riesling bunches, and crushed into the vat of the also-ran.

i've had the pleasure of touring through colmar on my way to the arrondissement de ribeauville, (and the gustatory delight of the single greatest meal of my life at illhaeusern's auberge de l'ill, courtesy of my favorite courtesan, but i digress), and the intensity of les cols d'alsace still remains with me. we stayed at a medieval cloister (in a room whose walls were so impressive that they literally swallowed sound) overlooking the village of ribeauville, and even a half-mile's distance seemed easily covered by a stone thrown from a second-story window. i have always yearned to return, but never on a bicycle.

hats off to the riders for their efforts, and here's to the alps in four days that will decide this tour.

oh, levi

the astana boys awoke this morning to the bracing news that levi leipheimer's wrist is irreparably broken from his seemingly-at-the-time minor crash yesterday, and he can't grip the bar with sufficient steadiness to allow himself to continue in this year's tour. (broken scaphoid, which, from its spot at the base of the thumb, it's easy to see how this would be one of those bones a competitive cyclist simply can't do without an intact one).

this is going to put a 25% dent in the four-headed monster astana has become at the front of the chase pack in the mountains, but, the inconvenience notwithstanding, having three riders where other teams can only manage to send one is still going to be a juggernaut of intimidating proportions, and something i'm convinced is going to ensure the supremacy of astana through the streets of paris.

the other consequence of this competitive setback has been the emergence of the name, FINALLY, of andreas kloden among the contenders featured in those handy little lists generated by the televising networks. it's not as if he hasn't always been there a pair of seconds behind brad wiggins, but now his name appears as it should in the list of top-5 contenders, and we can see that astana is hardly any less assured of their shot at sweeping the podium even by losing a rider who has performed better than every other rider on every other team. amazing. i can't even think of a sports analogy for this--it would be like orr, gretzky and lemieux all being on a team with maurice richard, maybe, only i know there aren't enough of you who know enough about hockey to get it, and it's still not perfect anyway because there's no hockey or baseball or basketball or football team sport equivalent, because one player can only field one position at a time in most sports, unlike cycling where a rider is a rider right up until he takes his position ahead of his mates at the head of the peleton, and it's all in the heart.

i've got today's stage percolating on tivo while i run the conference call gauntlet, and i can't wait to see what i expect will be an interesting jockeying for position ahead of next week's alpine stages. it's cold (55 degrees fahrenheit) and rainy on the course today, and that, combined with the 9% grades along the course, will put enough stress on enough riders to allow some who might want to impress themselves upon the race the opportunity to do so. and you can bet alberto and lance and andreas, supported by their five remaining teammates, will be marking every break.

the summer of our discontent

it's fun to watch the threads of the ever-incarnating fabric of lowell knit themselves together. this morning i've found yet another city council endorsement i can happily follow without even yet having had the pleasure of meeting the candidate. (something i look forward to rectifying in the very near future). the new englander, always in my experience an astute judge of public character, has met and now even contributed to the candidacy of ryan berard. recalling my own moment of political coming of age, (making my life's first monetary political contribution to the campaign of franky descoteaux a couple weeks ago), it's fascinating to observe how the recent well-publicized malfeasance by six of the sitting lowell city councillors (KMLEMC--Keep Making Lowell Elections More Competitive--Kazanjian, Mercier, Lenzi, Elliott, Mercier, Caulfield--remember them so you can forget them come november) combines with the natural wish of marginalized neighborhoods to see themselves better represented, and results in a rush of new blood into the political process.

my only rule for myself, beyond my dedication to enforcing an electoral consequence to anyone letting lowell's city budget burn while targeting and firing a single city employee for his political allegiances, is that i won't support any candidate who makes an issue of any sort of major political party affiliation. (republicrats and demicans being repugnant to me for their joint support of the political process that results in the looting of the federal treasury and further oppression of our precious civil liberties).

so it is with encouraged hope for the future that i see the political dominoes starting to fall against the gang of six, and the groundswell of support that is coalescing around various dedicated and earnest new candidates.

mr. berard, i'm looking forward to being in your corner in november.

and now for something completely inappropriate

all this political stuff is even boring me...

as it happens, the woman who tends to my aged hallucinations of soccer competence, aka the world's most kind and generous masseuse, was with me when i emptied my mailbox the other day. by way of background, being the practical engineer-type that i am, i once purchased a massage table (highly recommended--oakworks nova) from the folks at www.massagewarehouse.com (yes, they sure are offering a deal right at the top of their home page where you can "buy 1 gallon of your favorite lubricant & receive a natural sheet set for only $5.99") so that she'd have something on which to work whenever she drops by, and the good people there have recalled my patronage every month with a copy of their latest catalog, sent via bulk mail, in the vain hopes that i might ever once again purchase something belonging in a spa. well, making a long story only somewhat shorter, the world's most kind and generous masseuse couldn't resist a quick flip through the catalog pages, and, lo and behold, what do you think she found at the bottom of page 54, and, being the world's most kind and generous masseuse, couldn't resist sharing?

why, yes, that would be the ad for the betty charmcils professional charmcil kit, and charmcils 8 packs. what is a betty charmcils professional charmcil kit and charcils 8 pack, you ask? why, i'll tell you by transcribing right from their description on the page: "offer your bikini and brazilian clients an alternative to a landing strip or taking it all off. charmcils are hygienic, easy-to-use, disposable stencils which allow you to expand your waxing options while providing your clients with consistent results from service to service."

oh, yes, communism never stood a snowball's chance.

but wait, there's more! you really have to go and see the pictures via the link, but i'll also just tell you that charmcil #7, right before the outline of a pair of pursed lips at #8, is a good old american capitalist dollar sign. that's right. some women, some where, i'm sure today even as we speak, are sporting their little props to commerce right there above their money-makers.

well, nodding to my self-acknowledged tendencies toward the faux pas, i'll promise right here and right now to link to any reader who can find me a real-life photograph of such a thing, just because i think the world needs more of this sort of thing these days, and who am i to stand in the way of economic progress.

america--what a country!

tomorrow is another day

today's stage to vittel was more of the same, with the leaders all content to ride with the pack. there were a few grades upwards toward 20%, but nothing of any duration to do more than cause riders like lance armstrong to refer to them as "bumps". (he's much more chatty this year than ever before, yes? which is to say, i think we can all stop wondering who will be next to run for public office).

tomorrow, however, is possible to be a different story. the real alps don't show up until tuesday, but there could be some posturing in the run-up if we're lucky.

here's hoping!

the only use i find for democrats and republicans

in most conversations i'm given to referring to our major political parties as republicrats and demicans, since they're ostensibly two sides of a single coin, and indistinguishable from each other in terms of their shared propensity to waste public money in pursuit of their own private agendas, and to the enrichment of themselves and their cronies at the expense of the general taxpaying electorate. when you add in their twin insistence upon legislating morality and governing private behavior, there's almost no excuse for either of them. (and if you contribute to one, you need to think long and hard about how you're really contributing to both, since, at this point, they both really only exist to oppose the other, and that's a simple fact, and if you don't agree, and you're a republican, tell me you're not heavily motivated to offset the influence of obamania and the democrat majority in congress, and if you're a democrat, don't lie about how urgently you felt the need to unseat the bush administration awhile back).

anyway, this morning, contemplating the continuing fallout of the lowell city council's decision to fire andy sheehan, (KMLEMC--Keep Making Lowell Elections More Competitive--Kazanjian, Mercier, Lenzi, Elliott, Mercier, Caulfield--remember those names so you can happily forget them next november), it occurs to me that both the righties and the lefties are 100% aligned on the issue. don't get me wrong, there's no clearer indication that something is right than when both republicans and democrats OPPOSE something, but as an emergency fill-in, when no other indications exist, it's pretty safe to say that when the both sides stop sniping at each other, and drop any opportunity for partisanship, it must be because something is so completely obvious that even they can't find a reason to fight about it.

and so it is with the bald political screwing of the city of lowell and its taxpayers by leaving $300 MILLION of budget untouched in the blind pursuit of screwing one single solitary man and his political allegiances. the leader of this gang of six has even gone so far as to profess shock, shock i tell you that someone would question his motives for making a specific request of the city solicitor on how to word a motion so that it satisfies the letter of a law, while kicking its intent like an unwanted dog into the gutter. his pride at having found a legal way to have an individual fired is inexplicable and indefensible, yet, as can only politicians, here he is explaining and defending.

restating the obvious

israeli soldiers recently testified to the truth that the israeli military "used palestinian civilians as human shields, improperly fired incendiary white phosphorous shells over civilian areas and used overwhelming firepower that caused needless deaths and destruction". this all according to a report released today by "breaking the silence", an organization of israeli army reservists. the army disputes the accounts, of course, but they are on record as confirming that rules of engagement were relaxed in the recent campaign into gaza in order to minimize army casualties.

you can read the rest of the associated press synopsis here.

honestly, if there is a clearer match to our accepted definition of terrorism, i've never seen it. we have to stop allowing our paranoia to blind us to the reality that anti-terrorism starts at home inside our own government, (how'd everybody like the reports last week that the cia was cooking up assassination squads under the direct guidance and insistence upon secrecy of our then-VP), and continues with our supposed allies.

a word from management...

several people have encountered comment posting problems, so i've changed the template to embed comments in a pop-up box instead, in case that uncorks things. hopefully things will improve, but, if not, just leave a comment! (oops, i mean, send an email).

those who are in urgent need of replacement

courtesy of a blog i won't bother to name because he doesn't like anonymouse bloggers, i'm now up on the candidacy of patrick murphy for lowell city council in november. to his credit, patrick is running his campaign without political donations, and its his pledge, if elected, to serve without accepting the city council stipend.

a couple of things occur to me. one is spurred by a comment made by a citizen yesterday evening in support of further scrutinizing the political firing of the assistant to the city manager, and the perfidous wording of the motion to fire him that keeps six of the council (KMLEMC--Keep Making Lowell Elections More Competitive--Kazanjian, Mercier, Lenzi, Elliott, Mercier, Caulfield) on the letter side of the law, even if not its spirit, in whose face they spat to take their vote. the comment observed that taking many hours to deliberate on a $300 MILLION dollar budget, and finding but a single $82K salary to cut, looks pretty ridiculous next to a council that has made no motion to demonstrate any other kind of fiscal responsibility. nope, not one has foregone a penny for themselves, nor any other city employee, but, yeah, that one assistant to the city manager--that's what's dragging everything down...

oh, i do digress...

where was i?

oh--patrick murphy will forego his city council stipend if he is elected to serve on the council in hopeful replacement of one of the gang of six. (KMLEMC, you guys can do it). it's also fascinating to see his energy to run for the office, in posting youtube video commercials, and walking the city, door to door, to meet the voters and hear their concerns.

i haven't yet had the pleasure of a conversation with the man, but i'm sincerely looking forward. as i fill out my six needed slots for november's plebescite, and wonder beyond franky descoteaux, who is my downtown hometown favorite so far, for no better reason than observing that, as tip once said, that all politics is local, is now i'm only down to needing four more.

i'm wondering if the rest of the slots will be sufficiently satisfied among the growing list now tracked by cliff krieger on his blog, right side of lowell. cliff likes joe mendonca, which is as reasonable an endorsement as i think there is to be had these days for me. (he's also a software guy, like me, so there's that too). joe was there at the city council meeting last night, but hopefully he's cultivating other models of public service which to follow instead of that circus, including his own experience on the lowell school committee. i think cliff likes him because he's also an air force guy, but tip's sentiment, i'm sure, wasn't just about geography.

it's nice to have so many qualified replacements for those who are in urgent need of replacement.

politics

fascinating to sit and watch the various councilmen and woman go about their business tonight. (shall we just say that one of 'em is obviously the most in love with the sound of their own voice, and anyone who has seen any of the meetings knows exactly of whom i speak). hard to get over how "old lowell" the whole process remains, even while it pretends desperately to be business-like.

short answer is that all the same double-talking councillors who voted to fire andy sheehan, i mean, voted to remove the funding for his position on advice of the city solicitor as to remain on the literal side of the law, were all too ready to vote down any question to their motives, complete with flourishes of self-righteousness that they would even be questioned. i find it remarkable how baldly they talk of their own perfidy. one of them bragged about the personal nature of the treatment of the assistant to the city manager on the radio the day after his position was eliminated. another bragged this very evening about how carefully they inquired of the city solicitor how to word their intent to have the guy fired so as to obey the letter of the law even while spitting in its face. i kid you not, this guy was proud of how he went about wording his motion to have the guy fired.

of course, the single solitary supporter of the majority position among the citizens invited to speak put the real issue right square on the table: how can it be, out of $300 MILLION in spending, that a deliberative body can only come up with a single $82K position for elimination? even the best thing that can be said in defense of the indefensible reveals the true treachery at work here.

six city councillors are playing politics while their city budget burns. the other three are peevishly behaving like dogs with a rag and/or chasing a wild goose, which is hardly more productive, even if it is a bit more on the side of right and reason. Keep Making Lowell Elections More Competitive. Kazanjian, Mercier, Lenzi, Elliott, Mercier and Caulfield need to be shown the door. milinazzo, martin and broderick hardly distinguish themselves, either, but i guess, as the saying goes, we in a democracy get only the government we deserve.

can't wait for november.

oh, and btw, the other interesting tidbit discussed at the meeting was the intent by the majority of councillors to eliminate the primary election once again this year, and just run the plethora of candidates as a bunch in november. a cynical voter wonders if this might be a semi-transparent dodge to avoid facing a concentrated opposition, as opposed to a diluted one. observing how the nasty remarks broke out among the council on whose job it was to phone beacon hill for permission, it's pretty clear that this is yet another case of the political weasels doing their political weaseling.

KMLEMC.

memorize it.

technology and sport

one of the enduring joys of american baseball is its direct connection to its roots via the consistent statistics and records that remain remarkably relevant even 100 years later. technological performance enhancements, including steroids and human growth hormones, while capable of producing unprecedented feats and achievements, threaten to break that link between ourselves and our history, and that is by no means any improvement to the sport. this is why we still use wooden bats, send national league pitchers to the plate, and insist that drugs be driven from the system.

today in le tour de france, race organizers are enforcing another day's restriction on race radios, otherwise used by teams to enhance teamwork between their riders and strategy for their leaders. astana manager johan bruyneel led a protest of 14 of the 20 teams to have them restored, citing improvements to rider safety that radios allow, but the organizers stood fast on the ban. (race obstacles have never been more numerous and dangerous than they are today). cynics suggest bruyneel's opposition is based on a selfish interest to keep his boys informed of arising threats to their dominance, but i think the basic issue is one of history vs progress.

it's worth mentioning that, unlike american baseball, today's tour de france bears little similarity to its nascence back in 1902. back then, the race more closely resembled an endurance spectacle like the iditarod sled dog race, where competitors were prohibited from any outside assistance, to the point where eugene christophe had to fashion his own replacement fork in a local forge in 1913 when his bicycle broke on the col du tourmalet. (i'm willing to bet lance armstrong is no more interested in managing an acetylene setup than we would be to have the outcome of le tour determined on one of the riders' skills in the repair shop). don't get me wrong--all competitions on a level playing field are worthwhile in one way or another. it's just important for us to understand the difference between one and the other based on how we set the rules.

perhaps it's telling that today's stage featured the bike riding equivalent of a 200KM union work slowdown. four guys made a ridiculously transparent non-effort to break ahead of the peleton, sat about a minute and a half ahead (maybe a single kilometer on average), and everybody literally coasted towards the finish, barring the final sprint which was more or less just for grins. it was the single dullest day of racing i think i've ever seen.

nobody is suggesting it's the radios that create the competition, nor their absence which caused today's yawns. it's just pretty clear that the riders like the type of competition that the radios enable, and there isn't any compelling reason against it. the bikes are higher tech. the fabrics of the clothing are higher tech. our ability to enjoy the race via line to line video coverage is higher tech. why not let the racers give us the race that fair competition enables?

lance armstrong said it well when he pointed out that the sport has more important issues to sort out than the use of radios.

one possible reason newspapers continue to go under

billy sullivan, one-time owner of the once boston, now new england patriots, was so inept, he left his idiot son chuck in charge of investing tens of millions of the franchise's dollars into the at-the-time epic (and can't-miss) michael jackson "victory" tour.

this tour, if you recall, set the at-the-time record for gross ticket sales, and made a boat-load of money for its promoter, don king. taking place less than two years after the release of MJ's record-setting album "thriller", it reunited the jackson 5 for the first time since they all left motown. it even featured a cameo appearance by eddie van halen, doing his solo from "beat it" at the arena down in dallas. but, even with all this, the sullivans were somehow able to find a way to lose $20M of their business' money, and essentially bankrupt what has now been rebuilt to be the most profitable sports franchise in the history of the national football league. not easy to do.

this all occurred to me this morning as i read that the tribune company, owners of the eponymous chicago newspaper as well its city's beloved cubbies, are considering filing for bankruptcy on what has to be one of the top 10 most popular sports franchises in north america.

are you serious?

i mean, the sullivans were able to lose money on MJ, but even they weren't so impossibly moronic and inept as to be able to figure out a way to lose money on the pats. and these were THE PATSIES, one of the least-attended nfl teams, in one of the all-time worst stadiums ever constructed for the purposes of extorting money from otherwise would-be fans. it took getting swindled by don king to lose their non-leprechaun-protected pot 'o gold. but, no, these trib guys are a special breed.

now that the red sox have hoisted a couple banners, there are arguably no more loyal fans anywhere than those who daily come out in droves to see the cubs. their merchandise is always tops of the sales charts. their ballpark even rivals fenway for charm, popularity and sheer "must see a game there before you die" ambience. the franchise is a literal license to print money. you couldn't miss if you tried. oh, but those trib guys can. sure, the #1 motivation for going chapter 11 is to ensure the new owners a title clear from the parent company's creditors, but you can't consider filing unless you expend more than you make. and these guys, go figure, found a way to do just that. (oh, just for trivia--they paid barely $20M for the team back in '81, which is just a tad over what the post-steroid shell of a man who once was alfonso soriano--currently batting .233--makes in a year, if that gives you any idea how to get started going bust in the baseball business when you start with a team for basically free).

whenever i read about how tough newspapers have it, and how it's just not possible to make money in that business anymore, i laugh to myself and imagine those words coming from the mouth of a sullivan. no, it's just not possible for the idiots who run newspapers to make money anymore, and there's no reason for me to feel sorry for them about that. because these are the kind of guys who can lose money owning the cubs, and that's pretty special.