'like George the animal, kick ass on the annual...

"Never forbid what you lack the power to prevent."

I'll be hard to find this week/end, but I wouldn't leave you without quality entertainment.

Here's a guy who Gluttony probably should have polished off in 1986 or so, performing what I feel should be the Cape's official Regional Anthem.

YouTube - Mountain - Leslie West & Corky Laing - Nantucket Sleighride

 Duxbury High School used to wax the gym floors in the spring, for some reason. Ideally, this would be conducted when gym classes could be held outdoors. Mother Nature is no idealist, though... and when it was too rainy to run us around outside, we'd get stuffed in the mini-gym to watch Coach Dellorco's video collection.

I can recall the Miracle on Ice tape, the 1972 gold medal basketball game, and 1978 one-game Sox-Yankees playoff nightmare. The gem of his collection has made it onto You Tube, though

YouTube - Marvin Hagler VS Thomas Hearns

 While watching this Masterpiece Of Mayhem, take note of the ref work of Richard Steele, the microphone pwnage of Al Micheals, and the crowd of Romans howling like mad.

But the stars here are the terrifying Detroit Hitman and the Marvelous Brockton home slice who knocks him smooth the uck fout.

This, and maybe Iran Barkley/Roberto Duran, is about the best I've seen. Ali/Frazier was third, although You Tube does Ali no justice.

Finally...

I hate when this happens, and it's 100% why I don't go on boats:

YouTube - Hammerhead ate my Tarpon

My style broke mother lovin' backs like Ken Patera

Back in the saddle, beating other bloggers like I had a paddle....

 I done did a little travelling recently, mostly related to our house in Maine. Never hire French-Canadian roofers. If Moses had hired francais labor, there'd be an 11th Commandment... and if you actually read the Code Of Hammurabi, there are sections devoted to shoddy construction, punishable by death.

The Code Of Hammurabi was carved into rock, so you know they were only taking serious applicants for admission. The eye-for-an-eye here was that the carpenter was to have the dwelling collapsed upon him- no mean feat when everything was made of stone.

 While I don't want anyone Collapsed, I have missed my little friend Miss Blog here, and we have two important matters to discuss 'fore I head off to get some ice cream.

 A) Randy Moss

B) Roger Clemens

Randy Moss is a 6'5" burner who can match a cheetah stride for stride for 50 yards. He's gathered scores of touchdowns in his career, which featured the Patriots refusing to move up to get him in the draft so they could stay where they were and select Tebucky Jones.

Randy- who played with Troy Brown at Marshall- had an entourage following him when he was 19 years old. When asked to state something positive about Moss, his college coach says "Let me tell you what a nice boy Troy Brown is." I'm not making that up.

Randy also smokes enough weed that his arrival in Massachusetts drove down Cape Cod marijuana prices. He's left the field before the game was over. He's mooned a crowd of 75,000. He has an afro you could hide a child in. He went to Oakland last year and dogged it to the point where they gave him to us for a 4th round pick.

Time heals all wounds, though... and there aren't 5 guys on the planet with his particular combination of speed and height... and we have the one with the best hands.

The QB throwing to Moss last year wasn't that more effective than sending out a short French girl who sort of pushes the ball at him because she can't get her fingers around the laces. I could get more than 5 touchdowns throwing to Moss, and I'm sure Randy has already ejaculated over the thought of playing with Tom Brady. If all works out, they may be each other's favorite person by October, 2007.

As for least favorite people, the Spankees managed to ink Roger Clemens to an abominable contract for this summer and beyond. Roger comes to the AL East with the express purpose of saving the league's big ticket franchise. NY could afford the man, and money makes the world go 'round, kids...

 Roger is 45, but that's only like 32 in Texan years. You know he's throwing smoke, and you know the Yankees are going to mount a furious charge right around the time we figure out that our zillion dollar Jap fireballer isn't up to snuff. I've seen it too many times already not to see it coming now.

I'm already preparing myself mentally for this inevitability, although I may have to get a night job if things are really, really ugly in early September. Children shouldn't see their parents cry.

Of course... I was present the last time the Sox bats went after Rocket Rog.... the 2004 All Star Game... and both Big Papi and Super Manny beat his ass bad enough to be able to command Newports for it in prison. Right in his hometown, too... in one of his previous retirement tours. I loved it.

You know that burned his ass, and he'll be screaming for vengeance off that mound like Nolan Ryan Jr. this summer.

No worries. It's not as much fun winning the pennant against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, or whatever the hell they call themselves these days. I want Yankee blood on my hands while i enjoy my World Series victory beer. Eff them. Go sign Mo Vaughn, too... it doesn't matta.

We will sail in the Bay of their Misery.

 

Tags: Monponsett, Randy Moss, New England Patriots, Red Sox, Yankees, Roger Clemens

Onward Through The Fog

 

I was at Choco-Latte in Sagamore the other day, just as the Sox and Yankees were firing up a three game series at Fenway. As I was trying to enjoy my gelato, someone came up to me and asked for directions to Falmouth.

Tourist season is just beginning, and I began to go instantly into that giving-directions mode all Cape residents operate in at times... when I saw that Yankees hat her husband was wearing. This flipped the script.

"You're almost there. Go back over that bridge (the Sagamore) up Route Three, get off at Exit Ten, take a right, then go about a mile." While fronting like I lived in Falmouth (not easy with my accent), I gave them directions which, if followed properly, took them to The Milepost Restararunt in Duxbury, Massachusetts. Of course I wrote it down for them.

For those of you not from Massachusetts, Duxbury is nowhere near Cape Cod... I probably took an hour- maybe two- out of their vacation. I'm glad I did.

Eff them. They should know better than to go out in public dressed like that. I certainly wouldn't walk through Hell's Kitchen in a Big Papi shirt.. and if I did, I'd deserve whatever happened to me. Maybe they got a nice lunch out of it, maybe not... I don't care.

Here's some Sox-related video for you to enjoy:

First, ESPN was nice enough to post video of us hitting not-two-not-three-but-four homers in a row off the Yankers Sunday. Check the steady long ballin'

ESPN.com - MLB - Recap

But wait...there's more. Watch someone interfere with a Fenway foul ball and get a pizza to the face for it. It's a few minutes into this video here:

Blog Show No. 5: 'No Gluing of Pubes Onto the Face'

Enjoy and remember this three game sweep of the Evil Empire that we just witnessed. Look back on it fondly when the September Swoon hits, about mid-August. Time has shown that the Yankees will prevail generally, so sit down and absolutely savor us whipping them like a government mule on a warm April weekend when hope seemed to seep out of the tree branches.

As for the family I saw at Choco-Latte.... I hope that they enjoyed Duxbury.

Since we have the topic out there....

- I don't deliberately mislead Rhode Islanders, NH, VT, Maine or western Mass people. I'd invite a fellow New Englander into my house to use MapQuest if I saw a B hat on them.

- When a car pulls up with Connecticut plates, I can tell just by looking at them if they root for the Sox or the Yankees. Connecticut Sox fans go to Falmouth, Connecticut Yankees go to Duxbury. Sox fans call this ability "Hatedar," and it is born-not-taught.

- No other state/team (except the Los Anglese Lakers, and Californians specifically have to be wearing Laker gear) elicits this response from me. Bulls, Bears, Bucks, Bengals, Brewers, Browns... I do the best I can for all of them.

- It's quite possible that they asked for directions in Duxbury, only to be answered by someone of like-me-mindedness (I grew up in Duxbury), who then sent them even further off into the hinterland. This could set them on a Bridgewater-Quincy-Maine-Alabama pattern that might even involve a "ferry" trip that ends in Le Havre (provided the marks run into an Ascended Master of my trade).

- If you're going to try to send Yankee fans to Canada.... remember to send them AROUND the state of New York. They might catch on, otherwise. I like to think that the ride through Maine will make them enjoy Quebec that much more.

I don't dislike tourists. I dislike Yankee fans. Sometimes, the Yankee fan is the tourist, and that's just how the cookie crumbles, folks. At worst, they learn a valuable life lesson... and knowledge is the gift that keeps on giving.

That's the pattern, and I'm sticking with it for the forseeable future.  The Red Sox go to Yankee Stadium this weekend.... and I really could use some more Gelato.

 

Sick hockey goal... the kid looks like a lacrosse player

 

YouTube - Robbie Schremp - Amazing Shootout Goal

 

 

Tags: Red Sox/Yankees, Cape Cod, Gelato, Falmouth, Duxbury, Duxbury is too part of Cape Cod and why are you disputing this if you asked me for directions?, three game sweep of the Evil Empire

The Hood Done Took Me Under

 

Duxbury Beach, MA... several more storm tides to come.

 

 That's not supposed to be a dirt road with a salt water lake at the end... but Mother Nature cares very little for oceanfront development. That flooded meadow in the background is where some charlatan is trying to pitch a condo development.

 

 No, that's not a stone driveway, either... or at least, it WASN'T a stone driveway. That's a front porch and a lawn. This used to be my house, btw...

 

My old house, again... with the new stone lawn. Duxbury Beach veterans will notice the rupture in the seawall. Once that happens, the flooding of the neighborhood (and especially the new condo development) begins in earnest.

In 1991, the ocean was level with the seawall... which meant that there was nothing to stop waves from rolling in from the mid-Atlantic and smashing directly into my house. Every time one hits, it sounds like you hid in John Bonham's drum kit.

 

Stairs generally work best when they make it down to the ground, but we'll give them some style points for Location.While I like this family too much to actually wish for it to happen... it'd be funny if one of them (preferably the uncle or the son) tried to go down to the beach in the dark and didn't watch that doozy of a last step!

Something that always stabs at my sympathy when storms hit this neighborhood... the guy who lives at that house landscapes one of the local golf courses. Every year, he comes home from work and tends that lawn to a degree that one could roll a smooth 60 foot putt across it. Then, almost every winter, it gets wrecked.

Yes, I know that- during times of War and Hunger- sympathy isn't meant to be spent on a guy who can't putt on his Atlantic-facing lawn this morning until he shovels a few rocks away.... but people who own oceanfont property have feelings, too. Godspeed, Double R.

 

In what should probably be a blog entry of its own.... the guy who used to own that house was known for doing naked Tai Chi outside at 4 AM. 

 

The storm didn't bring down that basketball goal... that came down when some sucka gave me the lane, and I sh***ed on him.

Tags: Duxbury Beach, April 2007 Nor'easter, Blogplugs, Monponsett, Indoor Pool

April Nor'easter: The Beast Of The East!

 Yes, even more shots of Duxbury Beach getting the beatdown from Mom Nature. Hurricane intensity is measured by wind speed, but locals measure Nor'easter intensity by the length of time it sticks around. While a hurricane does more damage, a Nor'Easter sticks around for 3 days, bringing a distinct brand of mayhem.

Anything more than 4 tides is trouble...and this sonovabitch (we expect 8 storm tides out of it) is Capital T Trouble.

 

 Say hi to my man Johnathan Livingston Seagull up there in the top center...

 

 I only show you Duxbury Beach when storms are hitting it... it's reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally nice most of the time, honest...

That dark horizontal line is a 15 foot seawall that the ocean has just breeched. Sensible people call this "Evacuation Time," but we just opened more wine. It may have been 11 AM. 

 

It looks worse than it is. The highest water you see here is spray, which lacks the hitting power of a wave. I also live on a hill, though....

More Storm Photos Below:

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The Hood Done Took Me Under ... click that for storm photo damage

 

IIIII got struck by the lightning and the thunder.. even more storm goodness.. click that

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Tags: Beast of the East, Monponsett, Blogplugs, Nor'easter, The Importance Of Keeping Wine In The House, Duxbury Beach

IIIII got struck by the lightning and the thunder

April 16th 2007 Nor'easter, Duxbury Bee-yach, Massachusetts

When asked about how they deal with these storms, residents of Duxbury Beach point out that the other 364 days of the year rock.

 

While it looks like pissa surfing seas, you'd end up getting smashed into a 15 foot stone seawall. You don't come back from that...

 

That's my old yard in Duxbury,,, which I won't be having to tear up and redo, because I live on a hill now.

 

House As Boat

 

Someone had to pay the price to capture the feel of this shot... and we all end up paying the price at some point.

 

That's normally a road and a salt marsh... normally.

 

One wants to be somewhat set back when taking these kinds of shots. You can get 500 kinds of f**ked up hanging around when the ocean starts fighting the shoreline.

 

As a teen, I spent (by my own conservative estimate) 100000 nights hanging around on those stairs. It's a fine place to binge drink.

 

This is one of those waves where you THINK you're far enough back, then learn otherwise. Asians call it "mahapoli," which loosely translates to "soggy Reeboks."

 

That fence lasted longer than my camera batteries, but not much longer.

 

 

 

 

The guy with the pickup truck came home from running the Boston Marathon to find his house with an unexpected waterview.

 

 

Beats what happened to my neighbors in the Bay:

 

 

Ouch.

 

 

 

Bournedale Road is closed, because like 5 of these are happening.

 

Interesting note, regarding unintended alliteration.... the people involved in this entry were Stacey, Samantha, Stephen and Sheila.

 

 

Your Monday Photo Shoot: Windy Days

Tags: Nor'easter, Duxbury Beach, Blogplugs, Monponsett

Tags: Bournedale, Buzzards Bay

Run? Like Hell!!

 

I personally dislike joggers. I view them as a needless hazard to navigation when I'm driving. If one ends up missing, check my fenders for New Balance imprints. Allow me to get nowhere near the Boston Marathon, especially in a car.

I think it is a sign of arrogance and ignorance that Boston feels that traffic is light enough to close down roads and invite 20,000 joggers in for what really isn't that big of a spectator sport. Most of the people there aren't eating/drinking/shopping, so no one is making any real money off this...other than people in Hopkinton who allow you to park on their lawn for $40. I'm sure that whatever money Boston makes in food/drink/hotel is offset by the money lost in security/medical/lost productivity.

As a spectator sport, it sucks like Hoover. I'd rather watch two children race 50 yards than watch endless snippets of somebody jogging, even if they're jogging from MetroWest into Boston. At least the children's race would be over quickly. Imagine the clowns sitting out in the rain for this? "Look... someone else is jogging by!"

No drama, either. The winner of the race is usually alone by Heartbreak Hill. The chances that you'll see two runners sprinting neck and neck a half mile from the Prudential Building are pretty slim, about equal to the odds against seeing a German runner defecate on herself. I've seen one of each in my lifetime. If someone dies, they won't show it.

If smokers, fatties, junkies, blue-collars and the ill were better organized, there'd likely be some collective attempt to disrupt the Boston Marathon. While I'm not in love with the idea of using a Dirty Bomb on fellow Americans, there are some benefits to be had from wiping out a large segment of America's holier-than-thou fitness Nazis in one fell swoop..... viewing sanctimonious joggers in light of how people view rap stars as criminals, it would be not at all unlike releasing some Zyklon B into the hall hosting the Source Awards as a sort of decapitation strike against those who glorify street violence.

Still...I'm the sportswriter here, and I do have some professional obligation to examine the Boston Marathon as a sporting event. Here are some Insights from a woman who views running as something Nike made up to sell really cheap sneakers at really high prices.

- The chances that someone with a Swahili-sounding name like Ntambo Mkembe wins this race are pretty good. Ignore those who say that Kenyans run well because they're used to being chased by Lions, and instead try to imagine a bunch of kids running home to their village from a regional elementary school. Now, imagine those kids after 25 years.

- I'm really looking forward to seeing how African runners fare against the Nor'easter.  Not a lot of winter storms hit Somalia, and few Nigerian runners have that Shelby Scott-style natural intuition about just being out in a Nor'Easter. If local runners were more of a factor in this race generally, this would be an ideal time to challenge the Kenyan superiority. Running the race from Boston to Hopkinton would produce record times, as opposed to sending these poor fools into the teeth of a howling gale... but I'll bet that no one even thought of that before I mentioned it.

- People in Duxbury still talk about Bill Rogers and Alberto Salazar going neck-and-neck down Duxbury Beach at the Gurnet Classic Beach Run in the 1970s. While I was a bit young when it happened and have no memory of it, I'm told that Rogers and Salazar finished in a sprint, and crossed the finish line together in a show of Fitness Nazi Solidarity.

- If leaving my children in the care of my husband while I did jail time wasn't such a painful option, I'd try to drive out to some obscure location on the race route and coat the road with cooking oil or floor wax. Then I'd set out a blanket and a picnic basket nearby, and just laugh all day.

Tags: Boston Marathon, Africa, Nor'Easter, Jogging in Gales