In Birmingham They Love The Governor

I'd be even more pissed about this if I actually considered Alabama part of the 50 states, but even in spite of my reluctance to do so, boy does this grind my gears something fierce. New Alabama Governor Robert Bentley (I'll let you guess his party affiliation) thinks it's completely normal, standard operating procedure for a governor to tell his state, and the rest of the nation, that he does not consider those who have not accepted Jesus Christ as his "brother or sister".

This is acceptable why?

Look, you can have your own religious beliefs, that's as fundamental a constitutional right as it apparently is to own a semi-automatic assault weapon. That's not the point. The point is such divisive talk has no business coming from a freely elected public official, in Alabama or anywhere else within our borders. Of course, there was a half-assed retraction issued by the governor's office not long after the remarks were made, but you can't put the toothpaste back in the tube.

Let's not kid ourselves - this statement was made on purpose, it was by design with the intent of more clearly defining what the right wing likes to call a "culture war" but in reality is just their most basic tool in their tool-shed of electoral dominance. I've said more times that I can count that the only way for the Republicans to survive - let alone thrive - is to convince (cough: white) people to continually vote against their own economic interests.

And really, should we expect anything less on the sensitivity front from a Good Ol' Boy who was attending the University of Alabama in 1963?

 

Crazy bible thumping white folks eat this shit up like deep fried Twinkies at the Calhoun County Fair. When they're not insinuating that people "like" Barack Obama "share your values" or "aren't really American", they're forging code altogether and bluntly telling you that if you're not a gay-hatin' contraception-bannin' science-denying Christian like themselves, Alabama is not yours, the United States of America is not yours.

Divisive, dangerous rhetoric doesn't always involve marksman targets. Sometimes the best place to hide your hate is in plain sight.

A Touch of Gray: The RFFL @ 10

An organization near and dear to me celebrates it's 10th birthday this Saturday. While it's hardly as important as the Red Cross, not nearly as influential as the Freemasons or as popular  as AARP, it's all three and then some to me. Happy First Decade to the Rimmers Fantasy Football League.

Sure, it may sound petty on the surface. Millions of Americans play fantasy sports every year, and millions more may belong to organizations or collectives that have a much greater and hopefully positive impact on humanity. What makes this any different? Or any better? Isn't it just an excuse for 10 guys to get together once a year, get blind drunk and communicate every Sunday morning? Well, the short answer would be: Absolutely.

But I'm normally not one for short answers, and this isn't any different.

The RFFL began 10 years ago at a cross-roads of my life of sorts. I was a full year out of college but maintained a link to the glory days as a handful of my friends remained there for one more year. For that brief period, I had the best of both worlds - a full time job and salary, with unfettered access to the carefree college lifestyle that I had grown to love so much. But like all great things, that was coming to an end.

Among other hobbies like beer pong, video games and the tossing of lunchmeat on the faces of unsuspecting, passed out individuals, fantasy football was one of the activities that my friends I partook in. Some of us had pre-college experience, some none, but all fell in love. The 1999 season was a special one for me. My team, The Whiskey Dicks (a name which I rather not get into at the moment) pulled off the upset of all upsets against the juggernaut Salty Dogs, thanks in part to an unnecessary 2 point conversion from Kerry Collins when the Giants were getting obliterated by Kurt Warner's Rams. The Dicks were champions, and I was hooked. And I wanted Kerry Collins as my QB for life.

Not long after that, I started tossing the idea of a "Keeper" league around (where you keep certain players each year). Reaction was lukewarm league-wide at first, but thanks to my brother Sean, my high school freshman lab partner Brian, and John, of my college roommates who dared to dream, we had an interested core, and we spent the summer drawing up guidelines and working the existing members of our league to the point where, by August 2000, we had 8 men around John's kitchen table in Suffern, New York on hand to hear Brian's stepfather Gary announce that Peyton Manning was the first ever player selected in the Rimmers Fantasy Football League. I had no idea what impact this moment would have on my life at the time.

After tinkering the next two seasons with expansion and replacements, for the 2002 season, we had a lineup of 10 men that hasn't changed. And that is precisely why I'm celebrating this birthday.

These 10 men, these 10 friends, this intoxicating band of brothers, finds a way every Second Saturday of August to blow off all obligations and make it up to my deck for the festivities. And therein lies the glory of what the RFFL really is. We're all north of thirty now (Not naming names, but one of us is north of fifty too). We used to hit up bars every weekend. We used to have an annual Christmas Party. We used to have a Halloween Party. We used to BBQ a couple times every summer. We used to hit up a bunch of Yankee games. We used to pack 3 or 4 hotel rooms for concerts all over the northeast. We don't really do any of that too often anymore.

And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

That Sacred Saturday is the one defined time out of the year to get together and catch up on these milestones, good and bad. Maybe it's a new car. Maybe it's a sick parent. Maybe a baby's first step. Maybe a job hanging on by a thread. From a selfish perspective, I spend the day with my 5 best friends from college, my brother, my brother-in-law, my friend of 20 years and the man who took us out for our 21st birthdays a long time ago (again, no details shared for the good of all). Who could ask for anything more?

Because it's more than just touchdowns and draft picks. Since that first draft, six of us have gotten married and seventh will this October. We've welcomed four children: Maya, Quinn, Ella and Dylan (And one grandson). We've welcomed nieces and nephews. We secured millions of dollars worth of sub-prime mortgages.

Our lives have shifted from happy hours to property taxes. From tailgates to college funds and we've all gone through it together. My brother in law moved to Jacksonville 5 years ago. He hasn't missed a draft since. That's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

On top of all of this, the Draft - the League - has given us enough memories to last a lifetime. Whether it's Brian's 10 year old step brother asking how to spell "Crusty Beuerline" back in 2000, Anthony Becht needing 1 point and failing on the last Monday Night of the 2004 season to get Mark's team into the playoffs for the first time, Gary walking his cooler down Teaneck Road at 2 in the morning, Sean attempting to eat 100 chicken McNuggets after he and Travis forgot to go to sleep at the 06 Draft, or the improbable anti-perfect season that John's Stoagies managed in 2004, an 0-13 season that we still can't comprehend  to this day, there's little doubt that our lives have been enriched by the league's existence. And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

Life gets in the way - there's no mistaking that. Maybe when we started we were naive or oblivious to what lied ahead as our twenties expired and the dawn of thirtyhood was on the horizon. Maybe we refused to believe it. Maybe we knew it all along. In the name of progress and maturity, we've grown up. We pay our bills. Lots of them. We're all better people for it. We boast three dedicated fathers and eight men who would jump into the pits of hell for their wives. But once a year, it's that Suffern Kitchen Table all over again. And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

It would be criminally negligent if I didn't thank the unsung hero of the draft in my selfish opinion: My wife. I find it hard to believe that she (our any or our wives) understands what we do, or why we do it, or what it means. But year after year, she helps me prepare for it, helps me get the house in order, and never rarely complains about the shape she finds me in the next day.

I raise a glass (or more likely, a plastic 16 oz red solo cup) and salute my 9 fellow league members: Gary Burmeister, our current champion  Eric Couillard, Sean Hanratty, Joaquim Johnson, Erik Peterson, Travis, Mark Sprengel Brian Thompson and Michael Woods. I salute you for the memories, the experience, and the many good years and decades ahead. We may have added a Touch of Gray, but we're Built To Last.

Music Madness: The Village - Sweet 16

It's regional finals time. Finally. Getting down to the nitty gritty and the developing story in this region is simple: Can anybody put a chink in Bob Dylan's armor? Two matchups. 5 Categories each. In those 10 categories, nobody's come close to registering a point.

Our other matchup should be closer. Party like it's 1988 and the top selling records are New Jersey and Appetite for Destruction.

For the curious among you, all rules, criteria and regulations can be found right here.

Going to switch up the format a tad, provide a bit more background since we're down to 2 matchups in the region.

Box Score Keys: EC (Entire Collection - 3 pts), DA (Defining Album - 2), PC (Personal Connection - 2), DS (Defining Song -1), HI (Historical Impact -1)

On to the action:

(1) Bob Dylan v (5) Red Hot Chili Peppers

How They Got Here:
DYLAN: def. (16) Skid Row 9-0; (9) Jack Johnson 9-0
RHCP: def. (12) Aerosmith 8-1; (4) White Stripes 8-1

BOX SCORE:
EC: RCHP have a vast and impressive one. They're still going strong. Bob Dylan's collection is 100 times better. And he's still kicking. ADVANTAGE: DYLAN
DA: Of the remaining 16, Dylan's Blood on the Tracks ranks 3. Blood Sugar Sex Magik is 13. ADV: DYLAN
PC: I haven't ranked these 1-16 yet, partially because I don't want to ruin my own personal suspense, but also because I think more than any other category, this needs to be a direct Head to Head. I have many memories shared with the Peppers contributions to my life's soundtrack. The summer of 2006 was underwritten by "Snow". But being "into Dylan" is life defining. I can't say that I look down upon people who don't get Bob Dylan. Unless they also profess to love music. Then it's inexplicable. Being into Bob Dylan is part of one's character. It doesn't get more personal than that. ADV: DYLAN
DS: "Hurricane" ranks #3. "Under the Bridge" #16. Not even close. ADV: DYLAN
HI: Does not even need to be discussed. ADV: DYLAN

FINAL SCORE: BOB DYLAN 9 - RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS 0

(2) Guns N Roses v (3) Bon Jovi

How They Got Here:
GNR: def (15) Weezer 9-0; (7) Stevie Wonder 5-4
JOVI: def (14) Counting Crows 9-0; (11) Metallica 7-2
 
BOX SCORE:
EC: No real room for debate here, unless you were to argue that proportionately, the Guns' is better. And if not for most of Use Your Illusions I  and The Spaghetti Incident and technically, Chinese Democracy, that might be the case. But the Jersey boys have been cutting quality work for almost 30 years now. Wow. 30 fucking years. That's longer than the Beatles work had existed when I first got into them. ADV: BON JOVI
DA: Slippery When Wet was the first album I ever loved. I had three albums before that: Thriller, Born in the USA, and A Different Light. (Use the google for that one). But Slippery was the first one I truly got into. I remember coming home in 4th grade and putting the record (yes, vinyl) on and listening to it all the way through. But about 2 years later, there was Appetite For Destruction. I remember being amazed that you could say "Fuck" in a song. There was something so rebellious about the album at the time. Just as I was coming into my own. Just as I was beginning to define myself and formulating my own opinions. I still listen to both of the albums. Slippery is nostalgic. Appetite still resonates today. Slippery is #8 of all remaining albums. Appetite is 3. ADV: GNR
PC: Much like what I said about Dylan, there's a special class of us who still revere the Guns some 25 years later. Don't matter that Axl's batshit crazy. Don't matter that we're never seeing a reunion. Don't matter that Slash is becoming a bigger pitchman than Billy Mays. There's a sum of 3 albums for the Guns: All of Appetite, all of Illusions II, 1/2 of Illusions I and side B of Lies. If you've been listening to them for the last quarter century, it's impacted you.
Bon Jovi's done the same. When you're from Jersey, you feel a certain ownership of Bon Jovi. Like Springsteen, "The Sopranos", Diners and Joe Piscopo. Interesting (not really) trivia: I danced with my wife to "Never Say Goodbye" at our 8th Grade Graduation Dance, our Senior Prom, and our Wedding. And it was a "focal" song at all three. Not some generic "Chicken Dance". That's not some random occurrance. That's staying power. That's a contribution to my life, to our lives. That is a personal connection. But it's a different connection. Bon Jovi is where you're from. Guns N Roses is who you are. ADV: GNR
HI: Guns N Roses needs 1 more point to move to the Elite Eight. They won't find it here. Their moment was fleeting, while Bon Jovi carries on. They've seen a million faces. And they've rocked them all. ADV: BON JOVI
DS: So it comes down to the defining song. One fluke category for the right to call yourself a "VILLAGE REGIONAL FINALIST IN A MAKE BELIEVE TOURNAMENT OF ONE MAN'S 64 FAVORITE MUSICIANS". Can you feel the pressure building? The tension? The drama? "Living on a Prayer" checks in at number 8. "Estranged" checks in at number 5. And that might be an insult to it. ADV: GNR 
 
A very close matchup. Probably the closest yet. But we keep to seed here. Bob Dylan, "Welcome to the Jungle". 
 
FINAL SCORE: GUNS N ROSES 5 - BON JOVI 4. 

Music Madness: Liverpool Region: Round 2

Two Shutouts, One Blowout and a surprisingly competitive match in front of the Liverpudlians. Love that word. Rest assured however, that the Sweet 16 will be awfully more competitive than Round 2.

Rules and Criteria can be found here

SHUTOUTS
(1) Beatles v (8) Wolfetonnes. Oh it pains me so. This cruel fate for the Rebels, to go out in a bloodbath at the hands of the British, on English soil. I'd have liked to avoid the shutout in principle, but the fact of the matter is, nothing was even close.
FINAL SCORE: BEATLES 9 - WOLFETONNES 0

(2) Led Zeppelin v (10) Willie Nelson I initially had Nelson taking the impact. Then I realized I must have inadvertently been smoking what he was . Not a chance. 
FINAL SCORE: LED ZEPPELIN 9 - WILLIE NELSON 0



BLOWOUT
(3) Pearl Jam v (6) Rolling Stones. The Stones obviously take Impact. Pearl Jam obviously takes everything else. This 3 seed is sneaky good. Don't take them lightly. An epic matchup with Zeppelin awaits...
FINAL SCORE: PEARL  JAM 8 - ROLLING STONES 1

NAILBITER
(5) Johnny Cash v (12) Sublime. Sublime already knocked out one legend in Jimi Hendrix. Is the Man in Black next?  Even though I believe that Cash's American IV: The Man Comes Around was the best album of the past decade,   I ever so slightly favor 40 Oz To Freedom. Sublime takes the album. As much as I love JRC, the connection I have to Sublime spans just as long, probably includes more people, and some of my best memories, be it the first time I heard "Waiting for My Ruca" (of which I shall plead the fifth on details) or the shared laughs over the orgasmic "Uhhhhhhh" in "Caress Me Down" at my brother-in-law's college graduation bash. As much as I cherished getting out of class at noon on Wednesdays in my last semester and going out for beer and wings and listening to "Boy Named Sue", Sublime takes the connection. 4 Points.

I don't think anyone can argue Cash's historic impact or entire collection. There's his 4 points and making the tie breaker the "defining song". As much as I love Cash's "Hurt", most people consider it a Nine Inch Nails tune and we'll leave it at that. Conversely, my favorite Sublime song is a Grateful Dead cover in "Scarlet Begonias". So it becomes "Walk the Line" head to head "Waiting for My Ruca". And I can't fathom this, but using the methodology I set out with from the start, we have a major upset. I mean, Christ, I have Johnny Cash on my personal Mount Rushmore of great musicians. Looking at the bracket, I thought he had a shot to beat the Beatles. But we officially have ourselves a Cinderella.
FINAL SCORE: SUBLIME 5 - JOHNNY CASH 4.

Looking ahead to the Sweet 16:
(1) Beatles v (12) Sublime. We can no longer underestimate them.
(2) Led Zeppelin v (3) Pearl Jam. Epic, Epic matchup.