Oops! Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea but of course I could be wrong

So far I’m a big goose egg on any of my election predictions in the last three presidential campaigns. Five months ago I was sure by this time that Hillary Clinton would be the Democratic nominee and would be delivering McCain’s mail as she breezed by him in the polls. I’m pretty sure I owe the Misanthrope and/or Tom Watson a dollar for my losing wagers.

I don’t watch convention coverage of either party as a rule since it rarely rises above the WWF level of rhetoric, but Hillary’s speech ran over last night, so while waiting for the local news to come on I took my eye off the most excellent Keith Richards biography that I’m finishing to hear what the one time front runner had to say.

Hillary Clinton, like her or not, is the consummate politician. I happen to like Hillary, at least as much as I can. I wouldn’t vote for her over McCain, but I also didn’t live in fear of her becoming president as I do with He Who Walks on Water. Last night she had her game on and was brilliant. Not for a minute did I think she was at all successful in rallying her “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pantsuits” around the Obama/Tool… OOPS! I mean Obama/Biden ticket. What I saw was an individual who ABSOLUTELY should have been the VP choice. I believe Hillary was genuine in her attempt to unite her party with her speech, but by being as good as she was I firmly believe that any democrat watching that speech, DEEP down in their pie in the sky hearts, KNOW she was the best person for the VP slot, perhaps a better presidential candidate than The Savoir himself. I can picture her brushing by Barack backstage and uttering as she intentionally bumps his shoulder with hers, “Go get’em rookie, they’re all yours” and then turning with an out of sight smirk back to her waiting limo.

If her finishing comments didn’t convince me of this, seeing The Son of Man’s reaction after watching the speech on TV in Bumfuck Montana (and let’s face it, EVERYWHERE in Montana can be called Bumfuck), I just got the strongest feeling from his demeanor that he had just watched a much better politician take his ass to the woodshed. Perhaps all those asshats who convinced him that working with the Clinton Machine would be a pain in the backside he’d just assume not deal with were 110% WRONG. I'm conviced they were. I'm fairly certain had the Water to Wine Master sucked it up and chose Hillary as his VP they’d be right now laughing as they tossed their all but empty except for the ice Big Gulp cups out the car window at a hitchhiking John McCain as they passed his ass on their way to Washington at 100 miles per hour on a desolate Nebraska interstate with thunderstorms approaching and no overpass to hide under anywhere in sight.

Of course as I’ve said, unlike my mad eagle eye college football handicapping skillz, my campaign crystal ball is suffering from cataracts. But with McCain’s numbers rising, it sure looks like Obama’s chances have just been dashed.

That’s as WWF as I can muster. What say you…?

A fortunate son...

West Point is a place steeped in tradition. My dad sometimes complains that they go too far by inventing new traditions each year that diminish the more long standing ones, or spend excessive amounts of time and energy managing the endless list of them. Recently sophomore Superintendent Lt. Gen. Franklin L. Hagenbeck directed that the lyrics to the academy's hauntingly beautiful alma mater changed to be both gender inclusive after hearing it played at a recent female graduate’s funeral. It might have taken forty seven committee’s and thumbs up/down all the way up the chain, but it was clearly the right thing to do.

Change has always been a challenge at West Point and to West Pointers themselves. Its alumni are a powerful and vocal influence with any and all aspects of what goes on there and when something new is proposed, The Long Gray Line will always have an opinion. For me, The Long Gray Line concept and tradition is by far the most impressive aspect about West Point. It trumps all civilian college fraternal institutions and tradition by light years. At its foundation, it recognizes for those at the front of the line, there is a fellow member directly behind in formation that will have thier back for the rest of their life whether in combat, or at any other time, and that formation trails back over 200 years. As current or future members of The Long Gray Line, acknowledgement of your predecessors is what Gen. Douglas MacArthur meant when he thundered his challenge "…what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be” to my dad’s class during his famous Duty, Honor, Country speech back in 1962. I can tell from being around these men and women for most of my life that this tradition they hold dear.

When the academy created the tradition of having 50th anniversary classes sponsor incoming classes my dad more than likely winced. Then, a couple of months ago his class leadership asked that he be their representative and stand in review at the class of 2012 recognition ceremony and parade this past weekend (he’s the gray haired guy with his "shoulders back, chin up!" to the right of the uniformed soldier with the Airborne patch on his shoulder).

When I look at this picture it affirms for me that my father is simply the embodiment of General MacArthur’s expectation and I cannot possibly describe in words how proud I am to walk in his shadow.

Random shit and shinola

Is there any wonder people* make fun of Southerners? I mean what the fuck?! This bit of ridiculousness has been all over the local media for the past week or so. Before the “scam” was revealed, every time I’d see/read a story about these two morons I’d punch myself in the face. As a transplanted New Yorker, it has become clear to me how these people lost the Civil War**. The Union army simply came across the Kennasaw Battle Field dressed in monkey suits and the Reb’s dropped their weapons and ran. Shezzz…

The tape restoration project I mentioned in a post a couple weeks ago was a resounding success. I've dumped the five songs to digital and they hold up well. I've got an ART VLA Vactrol Tube Compressor coming so I can attempt some mixes on my own, and may even ask Jackson and his crew to take a crack at them if I get them to sound at all decent on my own. I'll post them here when they're done.

I have ceased eating, sleeping, and showering since I picked one of these up last week. Since I foolishly got one for my wife too, we've not had relations since I presented it to her.***

Me: Hey Wright Brothers, what are you guys working on there?

Orville and Wilbur: It's a flying machine that will forever change the world.

Me: Whatev's... Can you can load 2,500 metal songs, surf porn on the internets, and text your buds on it?

O & W: Well, no Tony...

Me: Than suck on this fly boys!!!

O & W: Tony, you have defeated us. I guess we'll just go drink some Draino even though it hasn't been invented yet either.

It's simply the greatest invention ever.

Next week the most wonderful time of the year gets underway and I'm trying not to get too excited about it or otherwise be unable to sleep a wink. For the benefit of those that live in Afghanistan or having no life whatsoever, we're talking about college football season of course. Although it will be an unusual season opener at Georgia Tech (they open on Thursday night curtailing our standard Ringling Bros. size tailgate), I'm still overjoyed that the season has finally arrived and look forward to taking, NOT asking, but TAKING all you football pool participants money. Each Saturday for the next four months I'll either be here, here, or in front of here if anybody needs to reach me. If folks out there find themselves in the Atlanta area and would like to join us for a game please give me a shout. I will guarantee you board your return flight home in complete state of human wreckage and hungover like you've never been.

*Okay Jackson and Beckeye

**Or as it's referred to by the WWF pay-per-view version many of the 'things weren't so bad back then' morons call it "The War of Northern Aggression"

***Yeah right, like that would ever happen, we're like rabbits. No, seriously. Don't believe me? Ask her. Oh, wait a minute, don't do that...

Hey! The wackjobs in CA got one right...

I picked up this story up over at Balloon Juice. All states including the one I reside in better take note.

You want to read some funny (and scary) shit click this link and grab some tissues. Bloggers donated money to send this guy to the Creation Museum and report what he saw. Assuming I could even have lasted to the naked Cat Stevens looking guy in the Garden of Eden display, seeing that one would have definately put me over the top and resulted in me being banned from the CM set forever.

There are some crazy people in this world...

No, this is NOT a caption contest...

Key capos in the West Point Skateboard Mafia from L to R: Chris L, Tony Alva, Brain H.

My good friend and Jackson's older brother sent this one to me this morning and it has lifted my spirits a great deal. From the freshness of the Iron Maiden tattoo just visable on my arm, I'm guessing it's circa 1983-84. The location I can't quite make out, but there is a glass of beer in the lower right of the frame.

I think we might have been out knocking on doors selling magazines or something...

When I'm sixty-four...

As wiped out as I was last night after a full weekend of activity, I still managed to bum myself out into an insomniatic state and ended up watching the U.S. Men's swimming team steal the gold from the Frogs who had stated in a recent press conference that the U.S .Team was theirs to poop on in the relay event. Suck it Frenchy, who's on the higher medal stand now. The look of defeat on their faces was priceless. The mood lift was temporary though.

What was I bummed out about? Well, today my kid starts 1st grade. She's been excited for a week (I NEVER got excited about going back to school EVER). I'm extremely happy that she's happy, but it's just another passing milestone that unmistakably means she's getting older.

Yesterday she invited a friend over to swim and the two of them gave ol' Tony no quarter. My pleas to give my fatass ten minutes to peacefully float along on my raft fell on deaf ears as they spent the better part of two hours turning me over into the water. As I exited the water in defeat, I sat and chatted up Mrs. Alva for a while and at one point the reality struck me: There will be a time, sooner than later, when she will NOT want me or her mom to hang out while she swims with her friends. It'll go something like this...

Her:"Mom can Kendra come over to swim?"

Mrs. Alva: "Sure, as a matter of fact, your father and I were going to jump in ourselves"

Her: "Nevermind, Whatev's. I'm gonna go hangout on Facebook for the next 42 hours instead..."

That will suck. I'll look like those French swimmers last night as they saw the scores flash up on the board.

I guess I just need to enjoy these days while I have them. We walked her to the bus stop together this morning and it was cool that she wanted us to be there with her. There were a bunch of other parents there, dad's in tow for the first day. All the kids were going apey and pinging all over the place. As the bus pulled away and I choked back a tear, like a stage curtain, it revealed a crowd of unaccompanied skulking pre-teens making their way to the corner stop for the next bus. They were all dragging these enormous bookbags on wheels and obvously bumming hard that their days of sleeping until noon had come to a seasonal end. Not a smile could be found anywhere. They looked like soldiers on the Batan death march.

Ah, I remember those days myself. Man, do I NOT want her to get that old. EVER.

But, she will.

At least college football starts in two weeks. sigh...

Big plate of Favre beans and a nice Chianti...

Wow. When I went to bed last night, the wire was reporting that the Tampa Bay Bucks were going to get him, but when I flipped on the tube this morning the top story was that Brett Favre is going to play for the New York Jets this year. I guess we'll have to see how seminal Jet fan and uber blogger Jackson reacts to this latest development, but I myself am pretty psyched about it really. I like the Jets almost as much as my home team and my life long homeboys the hapless Oakland Raiders.

Of course lots has been made in the last few weeks about Brett’s indecision and second false retirement (how many farewell tours has Kiss done?), and feelings are hurt pretty bad up in Green Bay (another team that I happen to like a lot) amongst fans, players, and officials alike.

The bottom line is that Green Bay made the right move by sticking with their young up and comer Aaron Rodgers. They absolutely had to. I’m inclined to think that Brett had no allusions about usurping the Packer’s plan set in place when he announced he’d be leaving football at the end of last season.

Having said all that, I wonder why the Packer organization knowing that this was what was going to be the outcome couldn’t have done this deal more gentlemanly and in a more professional manner? Green Bay fans were going to be bummed no matter what, but I see no upside at all to pissing Brett off to the point that he’ll feel uncomfortable making his way to Green Bay in his real retirement for the sure to number in the millions invites he's going to get to honor his career with the Pack? I’m not letting Brett off the hook by any means since I’m certain his personality played a roll in all the acrimony, and after all, it was his indecisiveness that created the shit storm to begin with, but the Packer front office would have been smart to have acknowledged Favre's upper hand from the beginning, worked to maximize their trade leverage, and been able to shake the guy's hand while he cleared out his locker. I’m confident that the relationship will repair over time, but I’m miffed at how it got to this elevated temperature.

As for the Jets, I think they’ve got to sit Chad Pennington right away and try to get their money out of Favre. I like Chad a lot as does Jackson. He’s a motivator on and off the field and while not blessed with a Peyton Manning rocket arm, or Mike Vick speed, he’s a leader in the Richard Todd sense. Good for the Jets. I’m more excited about the lesser game of pro football than I’ve been in years.

As for the Pack, shrug it off and stick with the plan you put in place back last winter. With any luck, Rodgers will be the next *Romo.

*This in no way means that I like Romo or the Dallas Cowgirls in any way shape or form. Just saying he's taken his team farther than his predecessor. For all intent and purposes the Dallas Cowboys blow and will always blow.

A rich foamy lather…

This is how the bullshit MSM can stir up a shit storm that not only fails to address the facts at hand, but actually curtails the meting of justice. One case here, the other here.

You can accuse me of jumping to conclusions and assuming guilt all you want, but I have a strong feeling that in both cases a group of individuals baited a lone individual into a confrontation and the group ended up in a circle kicking their victims into a bloody pulp. The only diff in the degree of criminal behavior perpetrated by the assailants being that in the Pennsylvania case the victim died.

From a media perspective, the Pennsylvania assailants are worthy to be given the needle (and rightly so), yet in the Louisiana case the assailants are hero’s because a judge arguably wanted to charge them with attempted murder.

Get a fucking clue people!!! They’re ALL violent fucking thugs that deserve to go to prison for a long time at a minimum.

Recuse the judge if his statements were out of order in the Jena case, but put ALL these thugs on trial for felonies that fit the heinousness of their intent the day they gang beat their victims.

I swear if those Jena creeps walk on account of all this bullshit I’m moving to Canada…