I’ve caught the World Cup fever, and the only cure: more vuvuzela!  And it looks like I am not the

only one.  President Clinton has World Cup fever too. Check  Bubba celebrating the US victory over Algeria with Carlos Bocanegra and an oat-soda.

Today is the day.  No matter what the outcome when the United States takes on Ghana in the first knockout round of the World Cup, the game will be a tremendous experience, as pretty much the entire nation will have our eyes and hearts trained on a television set around 2 o’clock, eastern time.  The fact that we all – Red and Blue Americans – came come together behind the Red-White-and-Blue is a rare thing nowadays, and something to be savored.

These games have been so thrilling.  I watched all 90+ minutes of Wednesday’s US/Algeria match, and was disheartened as time waned by the notion that US Soccer would again be denied a chance to mix it up in the Sweet 16, especially after so many missed opportunities and poor calls.  But then Tim Howard made a great save and immediately fired the ball like an outlet pass in basketball to Donovan, and the fast break was on, culminating in Landon’s put-back goal after the Algerian goalies made yet another incredible save on yet another close range kick from Clint Dempsey.  I went bananas, as most of the country did, from what I’ve gathered.

What an amazing sporting event, with these electric finishes.  But, in the immortal words of Marty McFly in Back to the Future: Part III: “Why do we have to cut these things so damn close?”  I don’t know if I can handle another nail-biter; I’m down to my knuckles already.  Let’s get out to a lead for a change today, OK fellas?

And as I’ve mentioned in my previous post on the World Cup, Rivers Cuomo, front-man and driving force behind the great rock band Weezer, is not only a huge soccer fan, but a personal friend of Mr. 91′, Landon Donovan.  Anyway, Cuomo and Weezer wrote a song specifically in honor of the 2010 US World Cup squad called “Represent”.  It has become something of an anthem for our boys.  The new video is below, and it will get you fired up.

So get fired up.  This is gonna be a tough match: the “Black Stars” of Ghana are no joke.  But our team has a touch of destiny about it, and hundreds of millions of people 100% behind them.

So they’ve got that going for ’em.

U-S-A! All.  The.  Way.

Advertisements

Ain’t no party like a Solstice party, ’cause a Solstice party don’t stop!

Other than the freaks here at Stonehenge, no one really makes much of a fuss about the Summer Solstice.  Considering the importance the ancients placed on this annual solar event, History’s original summer blockbusters if you will, you would think that something would carry over.  When you consider how Christmas co-opted much of the traditions of the Winter Solstice, the lack of Summer Solstice play seems  even more perplexing.  I suppose with the Solstice falling between two of the Summer’s biggest holidays, Memorial Day and the Fourth of July, things are just too crowded.  Or maybe it is because there are too many people like myself, who are just too damned tired from the getting up with the Sun at 5 AM (I’m very photo-sensitive.)  Still, if fuckin’ Cinco de Mayo can gain the legitimate, drink-your-face-off, party status it has accrued over the past decade or so, I see no reason why we can’t go buck-wild in honor of the longest day of the year, when the Great Ball of Fire makes his longest appearance at our daily Northern People Party (The Sun is just pissah at a party, what with his funny anecdotes and all; he just lights up the room – heyoooooh!)

OK! Off to go mix up a big pitcher of 100 proof vodka and Sunny Delight ®.

So Happy Summer Solstice, Party People!

…So THIS just happened.

Posted: Monday, June 21, 2010 in Uncategorized

image

Yeah, so I’m walking up my driveway, wheeling back the garabge can, and there, about 30 yards in front of me, is the above pictured black bear. I don’t think she saw me- I’m assuming its female, as there have been reports of a black bear with cubs in the neighborhood;  I didn’t see any cubs, fortunately.  The whole experience was QUITE an adrenaline rush, to say the least, as I stood there watching her.  Had she decided to rush me, my plan was to use the big-ass, green WM garbage bin on wheels to defend myself.  It didn’t come to that, as she continued alongside the house towards the back yard.  Then, with my heart pounding in my chest, I ran into the house to grab the closest camera, which turned out to be my phone.  By that time she had made her way down the steep hill, crossed the street, and headed for the thicker woods; that’s when I took this picture – it’s from about 100 or so yards away, and a good 50 ft above.

And then I went to go change my drawers.

I’ve always been fascinated with bears, and have always wanted to see one in person.  Now I have. And it was pretty awesome.  But it does suck, and saddens me that since we have so encroached on these poor creatures’ habitats, she is forced to mingle with us assholes.

p.s. – This was my first blog post created and sent completely from my phone.  I’m gonna try and do more of this.  We’ll see how it turns out. xoxo

The Monday Morning Punter, as you may know, is in reference to one of the only two occasions where the foot actually touches the ball in the misnomer that is American Football.  But for this month, picture the MMP like a bad-ass  goalie as he launches the ball like a freakin’ mortar across the huge field – Tim Howard will do fine for this mental exercise.  Yeah, I’m pretty into the World Cup.

Now I hardly know shit about soccer; never played the game, but greatly admire it from afar.  My sports were Football and Basketball.  And it is my familiarity with these two sports that always gave me an appreciation for the tremendous athleticism required to play Soccer; what it takes to run back and forth like a Basketball player on a field slightly wider than a Football gridiron.  But it’s not all about just running.  These cats have some hops, the way they get up there to head that ball, and balls, the way they risk those heads.  (I couldn’t play Soccer, because I’d be too busy screaming in a high pitched voice, “Not in the face!”)  The agility on display in this game is incredible, as the players weave themselves and the ball through a gauntlet of adversaries.  And I find it fascinating the way all these body parts are flying around and firing out, everything but the arms and hands.  It is all beautifully spastic.  And this all leads to some real rough moments and some pretty gruesome injuries.  Soccer players are kind of bad-asses, expect for when they flop about like Vlade Divac or Manu Ginobli (it’s probably not a coincidence that some of the NBA’s best all-time floppers hail from countries where Soccer is big.)

Another big reason for my appreciation for Soccer is that lots of my friends not only played and play the game, but are really good at it; back in the day they won a lot of games .  At Masuk High School, my alma mater, the Panthers were a force to be reckoned with, as we dominated southeastern Connecticut, and were in the mix for States.  Big Ups to my boys – Kenyon, Jeff, Dave, Lex, Chris, Tony, among others – who anchored those great Masuk teams of the mid 90s, from the time they were freshman or sophomores.  My college friends had mad success too: Nasty Nate, Jimmy, and Prah kicked ass in central PA for the Mifflinburg Wildcats; and the twins, Ben and Dan, brought home a New Jersey State Championship for Princeton High School.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not following club teams, nor do I have a favorite MLS squad.  This little crush only comes around every four years.  I’ll never be full-time Soccer fan because, like most Americans, I simply don’t have any more room in my life for another sport.   I have a hard enough time keeping up with the ones I already follow, especially since the NFL pretty much has a hold of at least a little of my attention all twelve months of the year now.  It’s just like the Olympics: most people dig the Swimming and Snowboarding and Track & Field, but they are not following the box scores  after The Games.

So I am gonna enjoy this spectacle that is the entire world coming together, and going bananas over The World’s Game.   The sights of the flags and crazy, colorful costumes, combined with the sounds of singing and, mostly, vuvuzelas (more on those in a bit), are all truly something to behold.  And finally, you have gotta love our own country galvanizing behind our Boys in Blue, as they try to kick the world apart.  U-S-A!!!  U-S-A!!!

Here a few other thoughts regarding the 2010 World Cup:

Far-Right Poltical Reaction –

It figures that certain far-right bloggers and commentators would get their myopic, xenophobic, moronic panties in a bunch over the inherent “Anti-Americanism” of Soccer.  What a bunch of jerk-offs.  These asshole see “Anti-Americanism” under their beds every night and in their Cheerios every morning.

New York City –

I was living down in the West Village back in the summer of 2002, when the World Cup took place, and was amazed and delighted by how often you would pass by a random bar packed full of people repping some nation, and cheering their squad in full throat at 9:30 on a weekday morning.  The crock-pot of cultures that is NYC has to be one of the most exciting places to be during the World Cup.

The Vuvuzelas –

By now everyone has heard about the plastic buzzing horns, also known as Vuvuzelas, that sound like gigantic kazoos, and created the sensation of being inside a bee’s nest.  They’ve been the talk of the tournament not related to the play on the field.  Most people seem to hate them, finding the sound very annoying.  Me, I don’t really mind them all that much.  For one, I’ve always been partial to droning sounds: I can easily sleep to the sounds of AC units, traffic, fans, and the like.  I’ve already has a nice little power-nap during the middle of one game; I of course didn’t miss any scoring.

But the biggest reason I dig the vuvuzelas is because of how much they seems to be pissing everyone off, specifically the powers that be like the players and commentators.  But that’s just the rascal in me.  “Waaaagh, the buzzing is bothering me!”  Shut the fuck up and do your job, Soft Serve.

Weezer’s Un-Offical, Official USA Soccer Anthem –

Weezer front-man, and Harvard-grad, Rivers Cuomo is apparently a huge soccer fan, so much so that the following  song is the second written specifically in honor of the US team, and its pursuit of our nation’s first World Cup.  Idon’t know about the last song from 2006, but this one rocks!  This is quintessential Weezer, blasting the power chords as they get us fired up for an improbable run at The Cup.  So enjoy this bitchin’ song and video, “Represent.”  If you really dig it, I’m pretty sure it can be had for free on iTunes until this Friday.

For whom The Bell tolls?  It tolls for thee, Slovenia, 10 o’clock est, Friday morning.  Keep talkin shit, and you’ll catch it but good you little punks!  U-S-A!!!  U-S-A!!!  U-S-muthafuckin’-A!!!!

By now you have all probably heard the tale of 16-year-old Abby Sunderland, whose quest to be the youngest person to circumnavigate the Earth was derailed last week by a fierce storm in the Indian Ocean.  And you have also probably heard the predictable media backlash, criticizing Abby and, more pointedly, her parents for what they deem to be a dangerous and fool-hardy quest.

To all those critics out there, self-righteously arm-chair parenting from afar, I say to you:  “Shut the fuck up! And worry a little more about getting little Bobby off those oxycontins.”

I think Abby is kick-ass!  From everything I’ve heard and read about this kid, she seems remarkably capable.  She was able to survive the 30-ft waves that ultimately took down her mast because she apparently really knows what she is doing.   Meanwhile, most 30- and 40- somethings shouldn’t even be allowed to drive cars: I’ve seen you assholes putting on your makeup and/or shaving during your morning commute, all while reading the paper and texting.  I’m not one to necessarily equate advancing age with sound judgement or capability.  So there.

And as far as allowing a 16-year-old girl to be in such a dangerous situation goes, I would argue that there are plenty more perilous predicaments the average teenager faces throughout the course of high school.  Maybe I’m the crazy one, but if I were a 16-year-old girl, I think I’d take my chances on a sailboat in the middle of the Indian Ocean, instead of in some rapey lacrosse player’s car.

Personally, I don’t understand the desire for this kind of adventure, or risk-taking: I won’t ever get on a motorcycle or into a helicopter, and I tend to drive the speed limit.  But this kid is really into sailing; it is what she loves to do.  Of course having a passion to paint seascapes is infinitely safer than actually sailing them.  Whatever winds your clock, or, in this case, floats your boat.

So good for you, Abby.  You seems like a nice, sweet kid, and are probably too polite to tell your critics where they can go and stick your broken mast.

…is Getting Cosmetic Surgery.

Posted: Tuesday, June 8, 2010 in Uncategorized

So the blog has been down recently for some construction and tweaking.   I’d like to think of this all as the blog getting a little botox and a tummy tuck.  I’ve been experimenting with different themes and formats, as well as learning about various ways to get the MMP more action.  Of course I’ve been writing during this time, but wasn’t able or willing to get it out there; so expect some Arbitrary Commentary regarding the last two months, coming soon.

Another thing is that I’m toying with the notion of not sending out emails and social networking notifications about new posts, in order to cultivate a  greater number of page hits.  Bottom line on this: I want y’all to keep coming back as much as possible, looking to field fresh punts.  Of course, in order to keep y’all comin’ back, time and again, I gotta keep my end of the bargain by posting as much as possible.

Tomorrow is the big day: The Masters!  And I must say that I’m really excited about it.  First of all, although I’m not yet a golfer, I get all jazzed up about The Masters each and every year for a number of reasons.  The first major tournament of the season signals to me the unofficial start of Spring: after The Masters, a chilly-ass day is the exception rather than the rule.  Another thing that makes The Masters the preeminent tournament in golf is the familiarity that comes with it being held each year at Augusta National Golf Club (as opposed to the other three major tournaments, which change venues each year, for those of you who don’t know shit about any of this stuff.)  Even if you just having a passing interest in golf or The Masters, you know about the harrowing 11th, 12th, and 13th Holes, also known as ‘Amen Corner;’ you recognize the Sarazen Bridge, and President Eisenhower’s Tree and Pond.   So when you combine Spring in Georgia, with a pristinely designed and manicured golf course full of history, you get tradition, and some incredibly stunning scenes of natural beauty.  And now with HD, the Azaleas, Magnolias, and Dogwoods, exploding with color in their full Spring bloom against a backdrop of ancient Oaks on a big TV, are enough to give you an eyegasm.  Also, if you happen to have DirecTV, you get a few bonus channels of coverage for free, which is nice, that focus on some of the more noteworthy holes.  And, as a bonus, for all the tea-bagging, birther, GOP, freedom-loving, real Americans out there, y’all even get a nice little slice of the Antebellum South (Augusta National was built on a former plantations, still has no Female membership, had no Black membership until the early 90s but had all Black caddies until the early 80s.)

But we all know that this year’s Masters is extra special, and we all know why: Tiger, Tiger Woods y’all!

The whole world will have their eyes fixed on this year’s Masters to see what happens.  Literally hundreds of reporters from dozens of media outlets worldwide have already descended upon little ‘ol Augusta, Georgia.  Of course this is more than a little ridiculous because all that is really gonna happen is that Tiger is gonna hit a little ball with a big stick, walk after it, and do it again.  I mean, it is not like Jamie Grubbs and Rachel Uchitel are gonna pop up from under The Hogan Bridge and demand that Tiger, “answer we, these questions three,” in order for him to pass over Rae’s Creek en route to the 12th green.  (But Jocelyn James, she of the very freaky Tiger texts, will be dancing at a strip-club in Atlanta, 100 miles from Augusta; so he’s got that going for him…)

The real thing everyone will be looking for is how Tiger will handle the scrutiny and pressure at what is ordinarily one of the most scrutinized and pressure-packed tournaments of the year.  The Masters is also an event that Tiger has dominated since turning pro, with 4 titles and numerous top-ten finishes.  Tiger’s length is tailor made for success on this course – pun very much intended.

Personally, I am very much looking forward to testing my abilities as a pop-psychologist regarding Tiger when he tees off Thursday at 1:42 pm.  Playing pop-psychologist is one of my favorite pastimes, because I fancy myself as someone who knows a thing or two about the neat little tricks the mind can play on its owner.  I think that Tiger has been striving towards this robotic version of human perfection in a sport that has a minuscule margin for error, a sport in which even a momentary loss of focus can result in disastrous consequences on the course.  My theory is that no matter what Tiger does on the golf course, this Terminator image of him has been shattered – an image he and his sponsors worked hard to cultivate – and that will affect his legendary focus and, ultimately, his golf game.  Because, regardless of how many tournaments he wins, regardless of whether or not he surpasses the great Jack Nicklaus in terms of major titles, Tiger is just another entitled jerkoff, who can’t keep his dick in his pants.  I dunno, I just think that this fact cannot help but be constantly gnawing at the back of his mind, which I believe will affect not only his game this week; but, more importantly, I feel that it will affect his overall drive and desire to be the greatest golfer ever..who just happened to engage in unprotected sex with a litany of random women, with a lovely wife and two young children at home.

So here’s my prediction:  Tiger doesn’t even make the cut. Remember that you heard it here, from the Monday Morning Punter.

And finally, I find it endlessly funny that Tiger chose to make his return to golf at The Masters, because masterbation would have saved Tiger a world of trouble.

UPDATE: So Tiger shot his best first round ever at The Masters, with a 4-under-par 68, and is making me look like an asshole, and a shitty pop-psychologist.  Dick!

Of course I’m not going out on a limb here in calling Jesse James a creep for cheating on Sandra Bullock, and totally ruining what should have been one of the great high-water-marks in her career.

I’d like to also take this opportunity to set something straight, in light of the recent (and the apparently not-so-recent) revelations of Jesse James  and his particular fondness for, shall we say, WWII memorabilia.   Specifically, I’d like to address the lame-ass excuses for this, now infamous, picture.  Also, here, where he pulls out the old some-of-my-best-godfathers-are-jews excuse.  Is it even cool for Jewish people to be godparents?

Shock value?

What, so now everyone who rocks nazi gear is like some edgy performance artist? Fuckin’ Lenny Bruce over here.  Give me a break: shock value, my ass.  See, the thing about Lenny, and others like him, was that while they indeed shocked people, they also made people laugh and think in the process.  There is nothing terribly clever or thought provoking about putting on nazi clothes: it’s just terrible, and it is certainly not funny.

History buff?

This excuse is even lamer than “Shock value;” because anyone who has even a casual interest in history – to say nothing about history “buffs” – would understand the horrid significance of nazi symbolism, and how it impacted and enabled the third reich’s power and ability to affect the inhuman group-think that resulted in some of the worst state-sponsored atrocities this world has ever known.

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who are sickened at the mere thought of donning any piece of a vile nazi uniform…and fucking nazi assholes!  Now I suppose I’m not willing to go and call Jesse James a straight-up nazi without actually knowing the man; but by wearing the gear, making the salute, and that German WWII Fokker plane back there in the pic, he is tacitly supporting a genocidal regime and murderous, dehumanizing political movement.

But I can safely say, at least, that he is an asshole.

…and I’ve got my sights trained on that big fucking TV at “Jerry World” in Dallas!  Something had to get me out of my semi-retirement, and that “Helly of a Telly” is just the thing to get the punting juices flowing (see: British slang term for “punter” to make the last three words funnier.)  Also, I just had to get those lame-ass “poems” off the front page of my blog.  So I’ve been doing tons of plyometric training on my right leg, my kicking leg (on a side note: although I’m left-handed, I seem to do everything righty from the waist down; and yes, including that.)  The gigantic, humongous, HD television in the new Dallas Cowboys stadium, which is hittable by a strong, well-placed punt,  has become something of a metaphor for me and my writing: consistently posting on my blog is what I am aiming for.  So if all goes according to plan, Jerry Jones will be shelling out the millions to raise that motherfucker.

What have I been doing for the past year and a half? you may be wondering….  Never you mind…perverts.  Hahahahahahahahaha (By the way, I never write “LOL”, because I want to invoke Ray Liota, as Henry Hill, laughing in Goodfellas.  Love that laugh.)

But seriously, I’d have to say that one of the main reason that my blog took a haiatus was the fact that I discovered an amazing blog that put mine to shame so badly that I retreated to my fortress of solitude and started going through all the crystals my Pops left me, in order to get my shit together. The writer of said blog calls himself The Cajun Boy, and is a self-described reformed conservative from Louisiana who now works and resides in New York City.  Cajun has parlayed his popular blog into a myriad of writing gigs – Gawker, AnimalNY, to name a few – and is now writing for Yahoo! News.  This dude is such a phenomenal writer, with such a razor sharp wit, I believe that this is just the beginning for him.  Due to his increasing success with, you know, actual paid writing, Cajun doesn’t post with the same frequency as he once did, or with as much original prose, but still manages at least one post a week, usually directing his readers to an interesting video or article.  So you might as well just stop reading my shit right now and head on over to visit Cajun Boy in the City.

We also fixed up and sold our old house, last winter, and moved to our new house this summer.  Blah, blah, blah…Actually, that story is not so blah, blah.  So the day we officially listed our old place on the market,  I put on the Philly morning news and much to my surprise, a reporter was doing a news story from what appeared to be my neighborhood.   I walked out onto the front porch, and looking past the freshly placed “For Sale” sign that now adorned our lawn, sure enough, there were the bright lights of a CBS camera crew.  It turns out that the sweet, off-the-boat, oldish guy who owned the pizzeria a few blocks down the road from us was bludgeoned to death in his restaurant sometime early President’s Day, 2009.  Reportedly, nothing was taken from the register, or anywhere else. Anyway, at the time, this whole tragic happening seemed to me to be quite the bad omen.  But at least the news said that this was the first murder in the Telford/Souderton area in something like 50 years. And we did end up selling our place in about six weeks, so…  And yes, after selfishly ruminating on the possible affect a local homicide may have on our home’s resale value, I was indeed saddened by the fact that a man’s life was brutally taken from him and his family; he was a grandfather, and seemed like a real nice guy.  It’s been a year now, and there hasn’t been a single word on the case, from what I understand.  I’ve heard things; but I’m gonna leave it at that, due to a certain organization that may or may not exist.

Here are few other reaso’s for the long hiatus from my blog:

  • Facebook –  I think I heard someone (possibly Keith Olbermann) say that, “Facebook is for people too lazy for blogging,” or something to that effect.  This is quite a true statement as far as I’m concerned.  When I come across something that gets me all jazzed up, it is so simple to just post it to Facebook, when I otherwise might have worked it into a good blog post.  I still love Facebook, of course, because it allows me to create very detailed psychological profiles of all my over-sharing friends like I am in fucking Quantico.
  • Football Season – I am commissioner of our Fantasy Football League, and take the responsibility quite seriously.  I am also the Media of our league, and therefore do write-ups and power-rankings that consist of thousands of words.  It’s probably a huge waste of time, but it is fun, and the other owners seems to really dig it; and it’s also one of the reasons why I am one of the best FF commissioners ever, if I do say so myself, and why I can get my friends to refer to me as The Commish, which is cool.  Also, with my Chicago Bears playing so shitty since appearing in the Superbowl a few years back, there is usually a 50/50 chance that I’ll be in a deep depression through most weeks from September to January.  It is hard to blog when you are curled up in the fetal position, sobbing.
  • The 2008 Presidential Campaign – I dunno, something about the campaign, and its coverage as it reached crescendo in the Fall of 2008 just turned me off to writing about politics, which happens to be one of my favorite subjects (that and religion are my two favorite topics to discuss at dinner parties, which is probably why I don’t get invited to many).  I can’t put my finger on it, but maybe it was just that there was nothing left to be said, or maybe there was just too much to say.  Which brings me to my next reason for not blogging…
  • Constipation – Other writers can probably attest to this.  Sometimes there is just so much you want to say/write, that you get all backed up, and nothing comes out.

So consider this post to be my big, relieving shit – the verb, not to be confused with considering my blog to be shit, the noun.  The Monday Morning Punter is back, baby; so stay tuned, Party People. And look out, Jerry.

While brevity is not one of my strong suits, I shall try to keep my commentary on the last half of the summer short and sweet – so short and sweet, in fact, that my observations and opinions on some noteworthy events from the last half of the summer shall be presented in the form of little poems. Enjoy the shortness and the sweetness, but take some wet-naps: they’re sticky.

July 18th: The Dark Knight opens world-wide.

Heath Ledger’s creepily awesome performance

In The Dark Knight was great;

Makes me hope that the Dead can see what’s going on down here…

…Except for when I masturbate.

July 24th: Barack Obama speaks in Berlin, in front of 200,000.

Obama is admired around the world;

And somehow this is bad to think?

Perhaps they’re putting stupid,

In water half the people drink.

July 29th: A 5.4 earthquake hits the Los Angeles area.

The Earth shook below

The Hollywood Hills.

How long will it be

Till the Big One that kills?

July 29th: SIRIUS and XM satellite radios merge after over 17 months of government review. It took less than one year to approve the Exxon/Mobil merger.

SIRIUS and XM

Could finally unite,

In spite of the Radio’s

Political fight.

August 7th: Brett Favre is traded from the Green Bay Packers to the New York Jets.

I woke in the morning,

And Favre was a Jet.

If only I’d placed,

That 100 to 1 bet.

August 8th: John Edwards admits to having an affair with his videographer.

Affairs in remission,

Are not all that bad,

According to Edwards,

The Cad of All Cads.

August 8th: The Opening Ceremonies commence the Games of the XXIX Olympiad.

The Opening Ceremony,

Was remarkably done.

China showed what can happen

When working as one.

August 13th: Michael Phelps wins a record eighth gold medal in a single Olympics.

Phelps upon winning, 

Eight medals of gold,

Is a Hero of Heroes,

His feats to behold.

August 15th: Mike and the Mad Dog (Chris Russo) officially end their historic, 19 year run as one of America’s preeminent sports-talk teams.

An end of the era that was

Mike and the Dog on ‘The FAN’.

Now Chris leaves for SIRIUS,

To be the one Man.

August 24th: The Summer Olympics conclude with the Closing Ceremony. The United States finish second in the gold count with 36, to China’s 51.

Hats off to China,

And all their medals of shining gold.

And not too bad for Team USA,

All of whom play without being told.

August 27th: Barack Obama accepts the Democratic nomination for President of the United States.

For people who say,

“Well what will he change?”

Please pay attention,

It’s not all that strange.

September 4th: John McCain accepts the Republican nomination for President of the United States.

This convention is nonsense;

Its delegates creepy.

Social fluff and no issues,

Put me to sleepy.

September 4th:The 2008 NFL season officially kicks off with the Superbowl Champion NY Giants hosting the Washington Redskins.

Football has started,

Our Nation’s true past-time.

Now 31 teams hope for

Better than last time.