Tags: Boy Scouts, Coach Football, Dude, U.S. history, Washington
This classic piece of prose was originally published on August 21, 2001 in Dude. The essay would be honored later that year with a Pulitzer Prize for its searing insights and subtle eroticism.
So please enjoy and have a Happy Patriots Day. And to all those marathoners out there, don’t forget to grease your nips!
“I am a Big and Strong Patriot” by Coach Football
As every American must, I embarked on a fine excursion to our nation’s home capital last weekend. And let me tell you, I’m a different man. For serious.
I started my weekend by taking the big bus down there. What a great trip! They showed some movie with Big American Stars, including Harr Ford. It was some kind of thriller, with drama and murder and sexual in-you-endo. What a way to start it all!
So I get in, take the cab across the streets to my destination site, near the circle. Get out, go in, the tall boys are ready, crack ’em open, and sit out on the porch. People walking down the street, moving to the traffic beats. Americans! All of them!
That night I slept on the cold concrete floor. Waking up, showering, talking. Taking the subway line down to the place. Look at the tourists crowding in and panicking and arguing and looking at maps. On the contrary, I’m prepared! I know where I’m going!
All of a suddenly, I’m standing in the Art Gallery. What a place! Art all around, by Italians, Germans, the Dutch, even Americans. Many different artsy stylings, techniques, and colors. The American stuff is not highly regarded though. So they keep it hidden to the right side.
They have this whole ‘nother building that was built in the late 1970s by Jimmy Carter. That gave me pause. My understanding of the facts goes something along the lines that Carter was made fun of so much that nothing got done during his Term. During the Energy Nightmare, Americans became increasingly disillusioned with the Southerner. Then Reagan freed the hostages, sold the arms to Central America, and defined the mid-1980s. Continue Reading Patriot’s Day Rerun…
Last week I had the great honor of seeing Baby Perk Is a Beast get his first glimpse of celebrity boobs.
Though not yet capable of sitting up on his own, the little guy managed to log on to the Internet and find the nude pictures of Lindsey Lohan in New Yorker magazine. They grow up so quick!
Like Baby Perk Is a Beast, I too was thrilled to learn about the Lohan shots. But as often happens, the thrill of the chase kind of exceeded the payoff. It turns out that Lindsey Lohan’s boobs look like…boobs.
This night with Baby Perk Is a Beast and Firecrotch got me thinking a bit about boobs. Though in truth, almost everything gets me thinking a bit about boobs.
So yesterday while bored, I hit the Internet Wayback Machine and found this essay that I’d written a couple years ago for the Wall Street Journal Op/Ed page on this very subject.
It is called “Some Walk By Night”. It is mediocre. And it is posted after the jump. Check it.
Tags: Chicks who make my loins burn, Colleen Haskell, cottage cheese, Dude, Marriage, Sad confessionals, Waifish girls in brown bikinis
It has often been said that your marriage is only as strong as your ability to stave off former reality show contestants who are attracted to your creepy affection.
And in the case of my marriage, I’d have to say that adage holds true.
(Imagine YouTube hadn’t removed the video of a fully lip-glossed Alex Rodriguez, humping his bat at the plate. Now imagine that video was posted in this spot right here. Wouldn’t that headline be so hilarious? Or at least make some sense? Just imagine!)
I cannot resist the weekend’s call. It feels like I’ve been sitting in front of this computer since I left that bar Monday, and I’m ready to escape its evil grip and clean the garage, indulge in beer drinks, and listen to some rock and roll. We do the weekends right here in Lowell.
But first I owe you this week’s suggestion for Do What You Feel Friday! So why not just follow the advice of French presidential candidate Jean-Marie Le Pen, and spend your Friday malakarbating? We’ll even malake it easier with some Malakar malakterial for Malakites of all persuasions. Go ahead, what do you think the Internet is for? No one’s looking!
Before we proceed, please note that Lucy the Blog does not advise our influential French readership to support the far-right candidate Le Pen. He is pro-life and an alleged Holocaust denier, who considers 9/11 to have been a mere “incident.”
But on this particular issue, Le Pen’s got it right. During a recent candidate’s forum, he articulated his opposition to the free distribution of condoms in schools, saying that students should focus on the “much simpler method” of “manu militari.”
Always on the cutting edge of child development theory, Lucy the Blog famously endorsed this approach even as a green graduate student at Boston University. In the October 21, 2002 edition of our groundbreaking “The Sherpa’s Second Serve” column in the Daily Free Press, we were the first to report that:
“Amelia Earhart masturbated regularly. The guy who invented penicillin? Big masturbator. Henry Ford went at it twice a day. FDR? You bet. By the end of Operation Desert Storm, General Norman Schwarzkopf was rumored to have pleasured himself as many as three to four times a day. And in the midst of his run at Roger Maris’ single-season home run record, Mark McGwire supposedly masturbated after every game.”
Of course, we now know that McGwire’s record was tainted, but it’s clear nonetheless that this column left a great impression with Le Pen and would forever shape his political platform. Presumably, it will have the same effect on you, but you will only know by reading the entire column, which resides after the jump. (I would link to the Free Press online version, but it requires registration and who needs that hassle on a Friday?)
On Monday, we return with renewed vigor (this time we mean it!), as well as the second installment of This Week In the Noose. Yeah!
UPDATE: Prominent freedom fighters yanks it on train. Thrice! Why not?
Bagger: “You know that Landry kid that got killed in Iraq?”
Bagger: “My son lives next to his sister. He said the grandmother was over there yesterday. They went for a walk.”
The Landry kid was Pfc. John Landry Jr., who was buried yesterday as the first Iraq casualty from the city of Lowell. The bagger’s story is probably garbage, not only because most old people’s stories are garbage, but also because Landry only has a 17-year-old sister, who probably doesn’t live on her own.
Nonetheless, the brief exchange illustrated just how blisfully removed we are from this war. In one jarring moment, like a boulder dropped into a lake, the family gets The Knock on the door. And from there, the news spreads in concentric circles as the ripples grow smaller and smaller. From John’s parents, to his closest friends, to his distant relatives, to the kids in his biology class, to the parents of the kids in his biology class, to the neighbor of somebody, to the grocery store bagger, to the cashier, who didn’t know him at all and greets the news of grandma’s walk with a raised eyebrow. And there, the ripples stop.
I have nothing profound to say in conclusion. But I’m grateful that as a reporter, I had the opportunity to meet parents who’d lost their kids to war. It gave me a better understanding of what a “surge” really means. It re-enforced my objections to the culture of militarism. And it gave me a tiny taste, but a taste all the same, of the debilitating pain these families live with every day. More people should get that taste.
After the jump is an essay I wrote a while ago about another kid like Landry, LCpl. PJ Sora. PJ never even got the chance to die in a war.
Related: Lowell Sun story on Landry funeral (this link will probably be dead in about 10 minutes, as their website sucks)
Related: Boston Globe story on Landry funeral (Photo above courtesy of Boston Globe. And by “courtesy,” I mean I took it from their website. Thanks, Boston Globe. You guys are the best.) Continue Reading Pfc. John Landry Jr. (1986-2007) & LCpl. PJ Sora (1984-2004)…
The Boston Globe Magazine runs a relationships column every Sunday called “Coupling.” I don’t think it’s so red hot. In an average month, I’d say one of them is good, one sucks, and two are just ‘meh.’ But apparently all four are better than any of the crap that I can muster, as my submissions have been rejected on two separate occassions by two separate editors.
So now I’m left with four relationship-centric essays that I have nothing to do with. I figured I’d post one here today to hold you over until I can come up with a real post. That should not be far off. I’m about to take Lucy the Dog for a walk, where surely inspiration will transpire.
Until then, utterly mediocre essay rejected by the Boston Globe after the jump! Continue Reading “Coupling”: Deleted Scenes…