Welcome to Cape Cod

   I'm pretty much settled in here on the Cape, and all is well. I even got a new computer- my last one was a 1997 with less Mhz than my cordless phone. Now I have the flat screen, and enough RAM to play GTA: San Andreas.

   Moving is never easy, but one must handle all the settling in business before any wistful remembrances can occur. I have found a tolerable supermarket, a quaint farm stand with everything, a nice veterenarian(?), a good bookstore, a cranberry bog I can walk Sloppy Dog on, a mall, and- most importantly- a proper place to have breakfast.

   I don't like doing free advertising, and I like my cafes empty. I'm particular about where I have breakfast. In fact, you could say I'm spoiled. My grandfather used to take us to a place in- I think- the Prudential Tower, which is where I developed the fear of heights that I swear has kept me at 5'1".

   Growing up in Duxbury, I was able to go to Arthur and Pat's every weekend. A+P's was a family place, and the namesakes were elderly even when I was a kid. They would scream at each other all day, throw stuff, and it was not unusual to see someone threatened with a cleaver- even a teenage waitress. It was sort of like Orange County Choppers, except with pancakes.

   As opposed to most places, they would often tell you what you were having for breakfast, and it didn't make sense to argue with them. They would think nothing of striking Stephen if he made a complicated order, and he stands about 6'6". They seemed to like me, which may or may not have been a good thing.  I, too, think nothing of striking Stephen. But the food rocked, and people came in droves.

   Monponsett was just getting Pogos, which was a hard-to-find Portuguese breakfast place, when we moved the High Above Courtside offices to Cape Cod. I'll examine that when I visit old friends. But I've found a tolerable place to have breakfast that isn't worried if I bring in two babies.

   The staffing is important. My new place is "operated" by 3 teenage waitresses and a harried cook, but it is "run" by a mean old woman who is generally in the kitchen overseeing the operation. It's off the main road, in an area that was a business district back when "business" was fishing and whaling. It's usually quiet enough that I can commandeer a whole corner of the place for my brood, and they have an invaluable play area. It may also be a first step in making me feel at home.

   So, as I settle in, we'll power up High Above Courtside. This page was not dead- it was merely hibernating. Now, much like a freshly awakened bear, we'll kill and eat our food to satisfy our months-long hunger. We'll run wild through the forest, marking our territory and eliminating all rivals. We'll rut with 900 pound carnivore-like intensity, and then stick our face in the stream of the Blogosphere and come out with the Salmon of Primacy. Ain't no "get in where you fit in," kid- I'm straight to the top.

 

As for stuff from the world of sports:

 

- Larry Brown changed jobs again. Living the adage that no moss gathers on a rolling stone, the LB has ended his association with the good people of Detroit.  Mrs. Brown must be either really pissed or she must have the exact same sort of Travelling Jones, and a generous redecoration/relocation budget.

   While the Pistons have contacted me about the head coaching position, look for them to go with someone who would actually move to Michigan.  I don't care how Great the Lake is....I need ocean.  I'd be the new November Witch.

   If someone at TNT has a sense of humor and a little foresight, they would do well to occasionally gauge Mr. Brown's senility level as he ages. By 2015 or so, when Brown has coached in like 8-10 more cities, he'd make a superb commentary guy. There's probably an accidental reality show waiting to happen as a senile Brown stumbles around, not really sure what city he's in. Allen Iverson- who has a great deal of battle-tested affection for Mr. Brown- on the broadcast team would add a touch of soul that would probably draw in the viewers like whores to a wharf.

   A tribe in the Peruvian rainforest actually plan their harvests on Brown's jilting of employers. While it takesissues of SLAM magazine a few months to get down there, many aboriginals are well-informed about NBA matters. They consider a Brown job switch to be an omen pointing to a dry summer.

   People were shocked when Larry bolted a young title-level team in Motown, but not this page. He made one of those calling-out-the-wrong-name-in-bed kind of Freudian slips in March, when he said he always wanted the Knicks job. Shrewd NYC realtors immediately began emailing him apartment listings, and the Pistons themselves may or may not have tuned out his lame-duck ass during the Finals.

   So, this move was no shock to anyone who knows the man. Only the lack of NBA teams in places like South Dakota, Rhode Island or Mississippi has prevented him from coaching there. It is not at all unreasonable to think that, should he live long enough, Larry will one day have lapped the entire NBA. I'm sure Joe Dumars saw this coming, and that he already had a short list comprised when Larry came into his office, looking guilty.

   In fact, "Leaving Town" Larry Brown talking about switching jobs is a lot like what they used to say about Andrew Jackson (the guy on the $20 bill, kids) to people who didn't think he was serious when he spoke of hanging secessionists.

    People like to think that the President won't arbitrarily kill people, and asked around when Andrew- speaking of states' rights advocate John C. Calhoun, who frequently brought up the spectre of secession- would say, "John Calhoun? I would hang him, Sir....Hang him as high as Haman." Some didn't take him seriously, but those who knew his past suggested listening closely.

   "When Andrew Jackson speaks of hanging a man, you may as well go get the rope."

-  ESPN was forced to recall March Madness ads featuring slinky actress and fervent Kentucky booster Ashley Judd playfully teasing rotund ESPN analyst Rick Majerus. At one point, Majerus threatens to slap Judd "across that fat azz....with a fat Rick."

 

-  I was disappointed to see that the Fenway Park foul pole may no longer be named after Johnny Pesky, who has served with the team since Jesus walked the earth. The pole may be called the Carlton Fisk pole. Personally, I think it should be named after current closer Keith Foulke, and many people on Cape Cod agree with me. Here's why:

A) The man won a World Series, and broke a curse that Ted Williams, Yaz, Clemens, and Nomar had failed to defeat.

New England has a poor history in regards to witchcraft, and we can't incur any negative karma at all.

B) "Foulke" sounds sort of what like pitchers would scream when a long foul ball suddenly curves into the pole for a home rrrrrrrrun.

C) "Foulke" sort of looks like "Foul," which will make tourists think that the relatively ancient city of Boston is using some charming Olde English designations around the ballpark. "Honey, I can't seem to find 'Ye Olde Bier Stande' anywhere."

D) I thought of it, and I have this article as proof. That should at least get me free beer somewhere.

 

- Has anyone ever seen Jason Williams and The Professor from the And One Tour in the same room? That guy is just daring White Chocolate to sue.  In the WWE, this is called Gimmick Infringement, and they hit you for real when you do it.

   Vince McMahon would have that kid in f***ing Saskatchewan.

 

- General (and President) Eisenhower was very much into golf. One day, he needed a fourth, and asked a young staffer. The staffer begged off, citing some date with his wife that he had to keep.

   Presidents aren't used to people saying "no" to them, and generals even less so. "Come on, son," said Ike, "are you a mouse or a  man?"  

"   I'm a man," said the kid. "My wife is afraid of a mouse."