Quote of the Day “I never have any problem getting enthusiastic with a good song and a good band.” –Waylon Jennings
Here’s a good tune to get you ready for the weekend. I’m sending out a long distance dedication to Feidt’s Follies and Coach TeaJay.
Quote of the Day “I never have any problem getting enthusiastic with a good song and a good band.” –Waylon Jennings
Here’s a good tune to get you ready for the weekend. I’m sending out a long distance dedication to Feidt’s Follies and Coach TeaJay.
Quote of the Day “Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.” —John Adams, from his Argument in Defense of the Accused British Soldiers in the Boston Massacre
TB has healthy skepticism (euphemism alert) for the establishment, the authorities, and commonly held assumptions. It was therefore with more than usual interest that I attended a continuing legal education seminar yesterday inspired by Sebastian Junger’s book, “A Death in Belmont.” I haven’t read this book, nor will I, though I think highly of the author and find the subject matter fascinating. I won’t read it because it deals with the investigation and trial of Roy Smith back in 1963, and the details are too grisly for me to invest the time and soul that is required to do so. Smith, a native of Oxford, Mississippi, was accused and convicted of the robbery, rape and murder of Bessie Goldberg on the day Kennedy was assassinated. Shortly thereafter, the Boston Strangler was arrested. BS confessed to twelve murders, but denied the Goldberg murder. I came to the seminar expecting to see RS vindicated and BS proved guilty, and to have my disdain for the authorities and public opinion proved justifiable once again.
The CLE was co-sponsored by the Mississippi Innocence Project. One of that group’s prominent boosters is John Grisham, and Grisham appeared at the trial in the role of the Strangler and decked out in a prison orange jumpsuit. Afterward, he signed autographs and posed for pictures until nobody else asked, which I thought was pretty classy. The evidence put on through Grisham/BS was compelling. It is unfortunate that this evidence was not available to be presented in the original trial. In each of the Strangler’s dozen confessed murders, he raped the women and left their nude bodies in humiliating poses. He used their own garments to strangle his victims–items like stockings and brazeers–and he tied the murder weapons into bows before he departed each crime scene. He favored women over 50. All of these habits were consistent with the Goldberg murder. It also turns out that BS was working in a house only six miles away from the murder scene on the day in question and that it was common for him to take a break from work to go commit his acts. (The house he was at on the day of the Goldberg murder was Sebastian Junger’s coincidentally, and a photo of BS, one year old Junger and Junger’s Mom was shown.) Finally, during BS’ confession, he stated that his urges to rape and kill returned in the month of Goldberg’s murder, and after a period of time when no murders were committed. All of this is strong circumstantial evidence that the Commonwealth convicted the wrong man. I expected the prosecution to all but admit they’d botched the case. But they didn’t.
And with good reason. Roy Smith had a pretty checkered history with the law, including convictions for burglary and an assault that only failed to become a murder because his gun jammed. He had a motive for the robbery too. He’d been unemployed for some time and was hired for the day to work for Mrs. Goldberg as a house cleaner. He was paid six dollars for the work. Before he went to work, he had two and a half bucks. The night after the murder, he spent seventeen dollars on liquor and beer. Among the cash he spent was a ten dollar bill, which is what was stolen from the Goldbergs’ home. He claimed the money came from a group of folks that all pitched in, but he could name none of his drinking companions to corroborate his story. Perhaps worst of all, he mentioned strangulation and robbery in his statement to police without being told that’s what happened to Mrs. Goldberg. He claimed he’d been told by someone what happened, but again could not describe or name this person.
So what was my verdict? It could’ve been the Strangler. But it could’ve been Roy Smith. To borrow a phrase from the legendary Mississippi legislator Soggy Sweat, “this is my stand. I will not waver.” But I still don’t trust the authorities. I’ve read one too many newspaper accounts of death row inmates walking free after years of wrongful suffering when DNA evidence proves true their repeated claims of innocence. On the other hand, almost always, the system gets the right guys. But the Innocence Project doesn’t think “almost always” is good enough, and neither does TB. I hate spending money on CLE’s because I think they are a fraud, but I was proud to support this particular one. Maybe next year I’ll even hang around and get my mug shot with Grisham.

John Grisham as the Boston Strangler (I know, the pic sucks, but its the best I was willing to do.)
I miss Cross Country XM 12. Sirius Outlaw Country is ok, and I’m developing a taste for Elizabeth Cook’s morning show, but it just ain’t the same. There won’t be too much Thursday pickin for awhile, but I’m pretty much in the habit of not having to think about what to post on Thursdays, so I thought I’d borrow an idea from Saddawg’s blog and give you a little video sample of TB’s kind of tunes. This one has some philosobaen worthy lines in it, and if you’re getting down about the economy, the end of the Bush dynasty, or just because its been a long week, it might give you a reason to grin. Enjoy.
TB was in (on?) Beech Mountain over New Year’s, as you already know if you follow the blog. As always, I was on the lookout for a conversation worth recapturing in print. On our last evening, FlyinJ and I ordered takeout from one of the hospitable hillbillies in an authentic mountaintop Eye-talian eatery. Here’s how that went:
TB–I’d like to get an order of wings–I can split that order between two flavors, right?
Hillbilly Bleach Blonde–Nope.
TB–(very brief blank stare)
TB–OK, I’ll take an order of parmesan garlic and an order of “Billy Bob’s Blazin Hot”
HBB–(looking down at pad, writing in big curly cursive and very slowly)
TB–(after 37 seconds elapsed) An order of cheesy bread, an order of fries, and a house salad.
HBB–Ok, what?
TB–What’s the last thing you heard?
HBB–(consulting pad) Billy Bob’s Blazin Hot Wings
TB–An order of cheesy bread, an order of fries and a house salad.
HBB–(starts writing again, with Smily faces inside the round letters)–That all?
TB–(suspiciously) What’s the last thing you heard?
HBB–Cheesy Bread.
TB–An order of fries.
HBB–French Fries?
TB–Yep.
HBB–That all?
TB–A house salad.
HBB–(thinking for about 5 seconds) We don’t got salad tonight.
TB–(consulting menu) Hmmm, I guess if you don’t have stuff to make the salad you can’t make the veggie sandwich either, right?
HBB–We can do that.
TB–(consulting menu more closely) But, aren’t they the same ingredients pretty much?
HBB–(blank stare)
TB–(blank stare)
HBB–(blank stare)
TB–(vanquished) OK, I’ll take the veggie sandwich.
FlyinJ–And I’d like an order of spaghetti and another cheesy bread.
<Thirty minutes later>
Disembodied voice–Travellinbaen, your order’s ready.
TB–(seeing nothing) blank stare
HBB–(studiously looking away from TB for two minutes)
TB–(resolutely staring blankly at HBB)
HBB–Are you Travellinbaen?
TB–Yep
HBB–We’re out of spaghetti. We got ziti.
FlyinJ–You’re out of spaghetti? Isn’t this a pasta place?
HBB–Yep
TB–(still staring blankly at HBB)
FlyinJ–Isn’t that like Taco Bell running out of ground beef?
HBB–(uncomprehending) We got ziti.
FlyinJ–How about fettucine? Bowtie? Macaroni?
HBB–We got ziti.
Quote of the Day “Is that banjo music I hear?” –ubiquitous Appalachian T-shirt slogan
Our mantra for weeks was “this is NOT a ski trip.” It was a trip to a mutually accessible area to spend the holidays with family. But there DID happen to be a ski area where we were going. And we did want to be somewhere our niece could go to ski school. And we all brought our ski gear, which we used every day. So ok, it was a ski trip. A hillbilly ski trip (thanks to FlyinJ for coining that term).
Beech Mountain, North Carolina, claims to be the highest mountain and the highest town in the eastern United States, and who am I to argue with them? It is a beautiful place, with plenty of affordable lodging options. In fact, the condo we rented afforded one of the most sweeping vistas of any place I’ve ever stayed. It is a family friendly place with plenty of fun things to do. It’s a place I’d love to visit again in the summer, for as a ski destination, its the pits.
We were aware when the trip was planned that the likelihood of natural snow was minimal, but we expected the ski operation to make snow whenever possible on their vast terrain encompassing some ten trails. They did make snow, unfortunately they only saw fit to coat about three runs, which were in truth, one and a half. Hillbilly skiing is riding your lift to the top of the mountain, skiing down, then riding back up to make the same run again. And again. And again. That is not to say the skiing was monotonous. Each time down the hill, a new obstacle would present itself, making each day much more challenging than I would have guessed. You see, hillbilly skiing also involves constantly appearing patches of grass, which make skis do funny things when they come in contact. When skis do funny things, hillbillies do funny things. There were also ice patches and a few spots covered with plenty of hard, icy man-made snow and/or slush. These patches often would turn from smooth to bumpy or even into small cliffs as the day wore on. Since everybody aimed for the snow, so as to avoid doing funny things in the grass, all of the snow from whole swaths of mountain were kicked into little piles. And sometimes bigger piles. These piles of snow, grass and ice also provide opportunities for levity amongst the hillbillies. And finally, hillbilly skiing is a public service. Because you know where all those carneys go when the county fair isn’t on the move? You guessed it. They put on their flannel shirts and camouflage coats, dangle a cigarette out of the side of their lip and stand at Beech Mountain ski lifts blank staring for all they are worth. I hated the skiing at Beech so much I went back three times to do it all over again. Because after all, a bad day skiing beats a good day doing most anything else.
In between the hours when I had such fun being a bad skier at a bad ski mountain, TB got to spend a lot of time with the girls and FlyinJ. Those times are the ones I’ll be remembering most as the years pass by, I have no doubt. And that’s the reason we went there in the first place. It definitely wasn’t so we could ski.
Quote of the Day “The radical of one century is the conservative of the next. The radical invents the views. When he has worn them out, the conservative adopts them.” –Mark Twain
Consider this my application to become the National College Football Tsar:
First I re-align the conferences–with the amount of money involved and the ease of long distance travel, geography is no longer the primary consideration in setting up leagues. It is indisputable that schools with trillion dollar budgets like Florida are not fairly “tested” against schools that use the barter system like Mississippi State (forget for a moment that the Gators haven’t won in Starkville since….well, I can’t even recall. But definitely not since the Reagan era.). And schools like Vanderbilt that require their football players to be scholars, or at least literate, shouldn’t be forced to compete against the likes of Ole Miss (forget for a moment that the Rebs lost to Vandy this year). Exceptions to the rule happen. But year in, year out, the system, the schools and the fans would be better served by having similarly situated schools face each other during the regular season, then meet each other in the playoffs beginning in December (my second move). Here are some examples of my realignment plan, with change number 3–hipper, more marketable league monikers:
Conference I–The Vaders: Florida, Tennessee, Georgia, LSU, Alabama, Auburn, Florida State, Miami FL, Texas, Oklahoma, Virginia Tech and Southern Cal. These perennial powers will have unlimited budgets, player salary caps aligned with that of the Green Bay Packers and roster sizes limited to 55. The only rule for them when it comes to recruitin is there is no rule. There is no redshirting in this league. Coaches failing to deliver ten wins in a season for two consecutive years are automatically fired and reassigned one level down.
Conference II–The Bandits: Mississippi State, Ole Miss, Arkansas, Kentucky, South Carolina, Clemson, Texas A&M, Texas Tech, North Carolina, North Carolina State, and just to piss off most Rebels and Bulldogs, USM. This league will be subject to a mid-range institutional budget and salary cap and will have strict rules on recruitin standards. The rules are necessary in light of most of the members’ checkered probationary histories. However, there will be no enforcement mechanism for violations. Rosters will be capped at 65. Every league game will result in a trophy being awarded to the winner. Note the balance in this league between cow college rednecks and blue blooded rednecks (and USM rednecks). Coaches must average 7 wins a year over 3 years, except at Mississippi State where 5 will do the trick. In keeping with the academic standards of the league’s general student bodies, players will be allowed six years in which to play four.
Conference III–The Metro: Tulane, Memphis, Pitt, Houston, Louisville, Cincinnati, UNLV, Temple, Rutgers, and Georgia Tech. The league name is TB’s nod to tradition. These schools will no longer suffer recruitin insults against their crime-ridden, treeless locale, frightening cheerleaders and soulless stadiums (stadia?). One of them will be unbeaten each year and one will be winless and for once they will get a shot at the big boys when the playoffs start. But they can’t be matched up in Round One vs The Bandits. They have a small budget cap and if any of them reach it they get kicked out of the league, not counting Georgia Tech who will probably secede at some point anyway. Coaches who fail to go undefeated once every 4 years are out.
Conference IV–The Missionaries: Notre Dame, Boston College, BYU, TCU, SMU, Baylor, Marquette, Georgetown, Villanova, Loyola (all of them). This lineup should ensure Notre Dame makes the playoffs at least once a decade.
Conference V–The You’re Gonna Work For Us One Days: Vanderbilt, Duke, Wake Forest, Rice, Stanford, Virginia, Army, Navy and the whole Ivy League. No athletic scholarships for these schools are allowed, but their players will all be on academic scholly anyway. They get unlimited rosters up to the point their endowments allow. They draw their coaches from fired Metro ones. Job fairs will be held in lieu of tailgating outside stadiums (stadia?). If they land a hot cheerleader, the Vaders must each disgorge a million bucks to a charity of the victorious college’s choice. Coaches who fail to average 6 wins a year in this league over a five year period are exiled to Siberia. Players in this league can play as many seasons as they like. Few will continue past four as they have employees to manage in the outside world.
The Big Twelve will revert to the Big Eight, the Pac Ten to the Pac Eight, and the Big Ten hasn’t been heard from in so long that I’m not sure they still play football in the midwest, but if they do, they can keep their little outfit together. All the league winners go to the playoffs which will be staged outdoors in regional locations to be determined by frozenness of tundra, snow forecasts and colorfulness of field. Only the final 4 get to come back down South to go for the title. And the second and third place finishers in each league will be matched up in bowl games. To be played on New Year’s Day. Two and three at a time. Like God ordained.
Quote of the Day “I think a change (a change) would do you good.” –Sheryl Crow
There is no question that 2008 was the greatest year the blog has ever known from both a financial and an artistic perspective. TB appreciates all of the regular readers of this humble website, even Madd Dawg, and hopefully we can attract a few new names in 2009. I’ll try and do my part and I hope you will do yours by continuing to engage in conversation, dropping your one liners and stories, recommending the site to others, and voting when applicable.
After a nearly two week journey through the South over the holidays, I’m back at work and back at the blog. I had a lot of good topic ideas come up during my trip including commentary on the Russian spy/professor’s predictions regarding the future of the USA. Stay tuned for that one, for today’s post is about something much more pressing–the issue of instituting a playoff system for NCAA Division I football. (You didn’t really think I’d start the year with a “damn political post” did you?)
For years, I have opposed a playoff system. My reasons were based on self interest and long held assumptions. You all know about the ARB New Year’s party by now. That party started back around 1983 and reached its zenith somewhere around the turn of the millennium. The glue that held that party together was the bowl system, and when eight games were played on January 1 from ten am until near midnight, the action was fast, furious and often pretty damn funny. But dropping down to four or five games with no need for more than a single television damaged New Year’s Day irreparably. Thus, reason number one for keeping the bowl system intact has been destroyed. The other reason I have always favored the bowls over playoffs is that my school, Mississippi State, has absolutely no chance whatsoever of making those playoffs. So what do I care about whether USC has a gripe that it could beat Florida if they ever played? Actually, I don’t, but I digress. State does (occasionally) play in, and even win minor bowl games, allowing our fans to (occasionally) revel in our perceived success. The final reason I’ve never favored a playoff is that I gave no credence to the proposition that the non-BCS conference teams could beat the BCS badasses, so there was no point in allowing them to compete in a playoff.
You may think that the Utah victory over Alabama in this year’s Sugar Bowl changed my thinking on that last point, or possibly Boise State’s victory over Oklahoma a year or two ago. But that’s only partially true. Those games definitely exposed the falsity of my prior assumptions, but more than anything, they caused me to finally admit the glaring truth that has been there all along. Any sport that crowns a champion while barring even one of the sport’s participants from competing for it, much less dozens, is a fraud. It does not matter that many of those teams have no realistic chance to win. Teams with no realistic chance to win have a long history of pulling off the impossible. The Jets over the Colts in Super Bowl III, Chaminade over Ralph Sampson led Virginia, USA 4-3 over the USSR in 1980 and Chico’s Bail Bonds Bears over the Yankees back in the mid-1970’s golden age of sports are all instances where athletics showed us that anything is possible if an underdog is given a chance. When an undefeated team is prohibited from playing for a championship in college football, the whole season is nothing more than a made for TV exhibition.
As for my self interest, hey, State doesn’t play in that many bowls in the first place and in the second, I’m sure that some minor bowl system for the also-rans can be worked out. And you already know I’ve found a new way to spend New Year’s Day. Change is in the air. Light is being shined upon the lies and half truths of the past. It’s time for a new era of fairness and open competition,and an admission of old assumptions proved wrong over the passage of time. I say let em play.
Bonus Quotes of the Day
“Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes; Turn and face the strange.” –David Bowie
“I know that it’s time for a cool change” –Little River Band
“What is a ute?” –Judge Chamberlain Haller, My Cousin Vinny