Growing up as Southerners, we have a different mindset than anyone in the world. Of that, I am sure. Being in this melting pot of the world, I have had a chance to see so many cultures interact. I know Albanian people. I know Uzbekistanians. I think I talked to a guy from Sierra Leone the other day. I bet 0.00001% of Americans could point to Sierra Leone on a map. It sounds like the name of a town where Clint Eastwood killed a bunch of bad guys in Hang Em High.
(typical Eastwood sigh/grunt followed by tough one-liner): "Met a few of your guys in Sierra Leone....they won't be meeting anyone else."
Southerners have a "vibe" that seems to precede us. I can tell that another person is from the South before they open their mouth and reveal a Georgia twang or a Carolina drawl. Maybe it comes from a lifetime of exposure. Maybe I have a sixth sense, but I ain't seeing dead people yet. When my people visit New York, they always flock to Times Square. That is a proving ground for my ability to spot Southerners. I watch them walk in circles, admire the giant Hard Rock Cafe, buy an FDNY shirt and then pull out a giant map. Usually, I approach them and ask them if they need help finding anything. I enjoy the relief on their faces when a familiar accent addresses them. Of course, their first question is always the same,
"Where you from, boy?"
Always. Then I answer, ask them the same question, and get all kinds of random answers:
"Fort Mill, South Carolina"
"Anniston, Alabama....by God"
"God's country, my friend.....Natchez, Missippi" (Mississippi)
"Georgia boy too! Down at Manchester. I got cousins in Fairmount."
We all have cousins. Millions of them. Spread all over the South like kudzu. Name a town right now and I guarantee that one of my aunts or my grandmother will remark, "oh, your mama's third cousin Willie Ted lived there for awhile when he was with the power company." I would not know Willie Ted if he walked in my house right now and ate my last bite of cheese grits.
Older rural Southerners are very easy to spot, especially the men. They are the only demographic that does the following:
1) Tucks in a t-shirt (it could be a tattered Bill Elliott #94 t-shirt, no matter. It's tucked, y'all)
2) Has a toothpick in his mouth at 4:45 because they just ate dinner
3) Looking at TVs to see if any of them have on the Weather Channel, so he can check what is going on back home (by God, if that dewpoint drops any lower...)
4) Has a ring full of keys attached to his jeans, even though he is on vacation
5) Wears a mesh back hat because it's cooler (literally, not figuratively. Southern men have not gone hipster yet.)
Older women are slightly tougher, but I have decoded five ways to determine that a woman is a Southerner:
1) Carries her purse with her arm bent, palm up
2) Uses the windows of the Olive Garden to check her perm
3) The man she is with refers to her as "mama"
4) She won't touch the railings going down into the subway ("Oh God, Harold. Go wash your hands.")
5) Looks at every pashmina on the street vendor's table and holds it next to her shirt to make sure it coordinates (Southern women have not gone hipster yet)
Younger Southerners are not so easy to spot. Our generation is much more transient and connected to the outside world. Other influences exist in our lives that did not exist when our parents and grandparents came of age. Even with our speech, you cannot automatically tell with many of my generation. In a sense, we have lost some of our identity. Are we ashamed of ourselves? Has the national media finally convinced us to blend completely with everyone else? Case in point: I was talking with a group of people I know from Georgia. One of the girls, from Forsyth County, addressed the group with this:
"Myself and some co-workers are going to a thing in Brooklyn, you guys want to come with?" (clearly trying to eliminate her twang in that last phrase)
You guys? Come with? It was like an over-the-top rendition of Breakfast at Tiffany's. If I asked this question in Cassville, I would be laughed/cussed out of the building. Be yourself and damn everyone else. It is perfectly fine to be worldly. It is fine to appreciate other cultures, their way of life, and their traditions. However, I have a problem with Southerners cashing out their culture and values. We have made a niche in this world for being who we are, just like New York Italians, Boston Irishmen, California surfers, and Montana cowboys. To become homogeneous is to allow a small part of the South that exists in all of us to die. That is why I go to Times Square to spot old school Southern people. What others see as redneck or simple, I see as terms of endearment. I have made a concerted effort to remain as "country" as I possibly can. Carry on the way of life set forth by my predecessors rather than forget it and "progress." I have added "Cassville" to my Weather Channel App. I type in "old school country" on Spotify and let it play all day at work. I wear my old Russell moccasins just because. I still cry when I hear Elvis sing the "Dixie" part of American Trilogy. I watch old Austin City Limits performances on Youtube. I am on a quest to find the best fried chicken in the city. And grits? God, how I love them. If you don't like it.......frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
So God Made Cass Grocery
God created the Earth and he looked down from on high,
He saw a certain group of people walking around with nowhere to go,
from Firetower to Cass-White to Cedar Creek Road,
A society without community cannot stand, said He
So God made Cass Grocery
God said, "I need a place where they can be home away from home,"
He needed a place made of bricks and wood
held together by the bonds of friendship and loyalty,
where good people congregate daily to talk about car parts, horse feed,
their kids, the Braves, their cousin's Camaro, the price of gas, PVC pipe,
Dale Earnhardt's death, the potholes on Shinall-Gaines Road, .44 slugs,
Skilsaws, chainsaws, roofing nails, the best way to get to Rome, food plots,
the red lights on 41, 2 cycle oil, john boats, Carter's Lake and dogs.
So God made Cass Grocery.
God said, "I need a place where characters with character can reside,"
Where Billy, Gene, Dee, Joel, Harold, J.L. Forrest, Doc, Gus, Junior, Marvin, Russell,
Jimmy Lee, Mark, Jubal, Andrew, Daryl, Ricky, Johnny, Eddie, Larry, Jim, Leon, Buck,
Earl, Randy, Keith, Mike, Dale, Matt, Brad, David, and W.L. can all say "hey" over a coffee.
Where they can pull up in their trucks after killing a ten pointer in Pine Log,
or reeling in the largest largemouth from a secret farm pond in Rydal and say,
"Hey, y'all ain't gonna believe this..."
So God made Cass Grocery.
God said, "I need a place where young boys can grow into men,"
Where they can pump gas and check oil at age nine,
Learn about lag screws, sparkplugs, 16 penny nails, water heater elements,
brass elbows, shutoff valves, drive shafts, cracked corn, and power steering fluid.
Where they get their first chew of Levi Garrett or their first drag of a Marlboro
and get laughed out of the parking lot with "we tried to tell ye!" when they turn green,
Where "gimme five in high test" and "car's thowed a rod" would send them into action,
Where things get done between Dean Durham's and Bill Dance's segments on the TV,
Where "This Ain't No Thinkin Thing" and "Tequila Sunrise" blare from the tiny radio,
while old men explain the difference between a Carolina rig and a Texas rig,
why you "pull" corn, why you "don't never check a radiator on a hot car," and whatever you do,
don't ever compare a Mossberg to a Browning.
So God made Cass Grocery.
God said, "I need a place where people can have pride in themselves and their town,"
Where crowds gather to admire somebody's rebuilt 327 engine,
Where the same crowd cheers when the car lays drag on the way to Adairsville,
Women never have to open their own door, pump their own gas or carry their groceries,
Where children get their first ice cream,
A place that is the first stop for newly licensed 16 year olds to show off their new wheels,
A place where you can order a 1/4 pound of bologna, a Moon Pie and pork rinds for lunch,
Where you can always borrow the water hose for your radiator or a empty milk jug for gas,
Where handshakes are plenty and you truly can "have a Coke and a smile"
and at the end of the day, you are glad that you were able to live that day.
So God made Cass Grocery.
He saw a certain group of people walking around with nowhere to go,
from Firetower to Cass-White to Cedar Creek Road,
A society without community cannot stand, said He
So God made Cass Grocery
God said, "I need a place where they can be home away from home,"
He needed a place made of bricks and wood
held together by the bonds of friendship and loyalty,
where good people congregate daily to talk about car parts, horse feed,
their kids, the Braves, their cousin's Camaro, the price of gas, PVC pipe,
Dale Earnhardt's death, the potholes on Shinall-Gaines Road, .44 slugs,
Skilsaws, chainsaws, roofing nails, the best way to get to Rome, food plots,
the red lights on 41, 2 cycle oil, john boats, Carter's Lake and dogs.
So God made Cass Grocery.
God said, "I need a place where characters with character can reside,"
Where Billy, Gene, Dee, Joel, Harold, J.L. Forrest, Doc, Gus, Junior, Marvin, Russell,
Jimmy Lee, Mark, Jubal, Andrew, Daryl, Ricky, Johnny, Eddie, Larry, Jim, Leon, Buck,
Earl, Randy, Keith, Mike, Dale, Matt, Brad, David, and W.L. can all say "hey" over a coffee.
Where they can pull up in their trucks after killing a ten pointer in Pine Log,
or reeling in the largest largemouth from a secret farm pond in Rydal and say,
"Hey, y'all ain't gonna believe this..."
So God made Cass Grocery.
God said, "I need a place where young boys can grow into men,"
Where they can pump gas and check oil at age nine,
Learn about lag screws, sparkplugs, 16 penny nails, water heater elements,
brass elbows, shutoff valves, drive shafts, cracked corn, and power steering fluid.
Where they get their first chew of Levi Garrett or their first drag of a Marlboro
and get laughed out of the parking lot with "we tried to tell ye!" when they turn green,
Where "gimme five in high test" and "car's thowed a rod" would send them into action,
Where things get done between Dean Durham's and Bill Dance's segments on the TV,
Where "This Ain't No Thinkin Thing" and "Tequila Sunrise" blare from the tiny radio,
while old men explain the difference between a Carolina rig and a Texas rig,
why you "pull" corn, why you "don't never check a radiator on a hot car," and whatever you do,
don't ever compare a Mossberg to a Browning.
So God made Cass Grocery.
God said, "I need a place where people can have pride in themselves and their town,"
Where crowds gather to admire somebody's rebuilt 327 engine,
Where the same crowd cheers when the car lays drag on the way to Adairsville,
Women never have to open their own door, pump their own gas or carry their groceries,
Where children get their first ice cream,
A place that is the first stop for newly licensed 16 year olds to show off their new wheels,
A place where you can order a 1/4 pound of bologna, a Moon Pie and pork rinds for lunch,
Where you can always borrow the water hose for your radiator or a empty milk jug for gas,
Where handshakes are plenty and you truly can "have a Coke and a smile"
and at the end of the day, you are glad that you were able to live that day.
So God made Cass Grocery.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Welcome to February: The Deserted Wasteland for Sports Fans
There are a few times in a year where depression sets in, despite anything said or done. It happens to all of us. Times where hope feels miles away. The wind blows colder. You get more irritable with others. Work days seem to last 15 hours. Traffic is worse. People honk their horns on narrow streets more often, deafening pedestrians, causing dogs to bark incessantly and children to scream bloody murder. Terrible things seem to pile up. I have already imagined what will take place:
1) Justin Bieber comes out with a new album, covering the Allman Brothers in falsetto with Taylor Swift and other modern "artists." Ladies and gentlemen, on the stage to perform Midnight Rider......Lady Gaga and Nickelback. I could see Gregg just set his Hammond organ on fire and light a cigarette on the burning ashes.
2) American Idol signs on for 17 more seasons and the new judges are Kim Kardashian, Diane Feinstein and Jesse Jackson.
Jesse Jackson: "Contextually, that performance was perfunctory and prognostificacious." (Feinstein nods, Kim is still trying to figure out how to write a "K" in cursive)
Contestant: "What? You people make no sense."
Jesse Jackson: "What do you mean, YOU PEOPLE?"
3) MTV comes out with MTV3, a network solely dedicated to Jersey Shore reruns, Bjork music videos and eternal Kurt Cobain worship.
4) Wal-Mart, McDonald's and Apple merge into one giant company, thereby decreasing the per capita IQ of this country by 43 points and increasing the sale of sweatpants, houseshoes, Monster Energy drinks and Mountain Dew.
5) The NFL and NCAA, under immense pressure, decides that football will be two-hand touch in 2013. The UGA Administration bans tailgating altogether, moves all our games to Tuesday nights and gives half of the athletic budget to the rowing team.
Your steak is overcooked, your coffee is lukewarm and one of your headphones stops working while you are going for a run. Just inexplicable horrors run rampant in your life. Yes, y'all, I am talking about the month of February for sports fans.
I have lived through 31 Februarys in my life, each one worse than the last. Nothing happens in February. Football is gone. Baseball is a non-entity until March. Basketball is still in the midseason doldrums before their playoff runs. I think 37 people attended the last Hawks home game and that was a bunch of youth recreation teams who got in free. NASCAR has yet to begin, but quite frankly, it is no longer interesting to me. I did attempt to watch soccer last week at a bar in Manhattan but I instantly went into a boredom coma, fell out of my stool and landed in somebody's guacamole dip. When I was in Ireland last Fall, I watched soccer in a pub there, amongst the "hooligans" along the River Liffey in Dublin. It was Manchester United versus Everton (I think). The final score of the 2 hour and 45 minute game was 0-0. Basically, it was a cross country meet with a ball added into the mix. It got so bad that I started playing a drinking game by myself. Every time I thought about throwing myself into the river, I took a drink. 14 Guinness pints lost their lives that evening. These Irishmen were going NUTS over this game. It was like watching an oil puddle form in a Wal-Mart parking lot. To make matters worse the next morning, the local paper had a three page write-up on how Manchester almost scored once in the first ten minutes of the game. I looked at my waitress, Maggie Shaughnessy O'Callahan, and ordered a shot of Bailey's for my coffee.
Soccer needs three things to be interesting, if you ask me:
1) Fighting: At least once, a slide tackle needs to result in fisticuffs. A brouhaha. A donnybrook. A bench clearing slugfest. Penalize the offender(s) in soundproof boxes next to each other, however, allow them access to dry erase markers so they may write their feelings on the box for all to see until they get out.
2) More Points: Extra points for longer kicks. Bicycle kicks are worth ten points. If the goalie scores with a cross field kick, the game is over, you lose.
3) Shorten and narrow the playing field by 20 yards: These guys are 765 miles away from the goal, no wonder they never score. I swear I saw a coach send a telegram to a player during the World Cup because he was so far downfield. If you want a gigantic American audience, it is not hard to entice us. We want scoring, blood, possibly a fight or two and scantily clad cheerleaders to shoot t-shirts out of a bazooka.
Signing Day does occur on February 6th, but even that has become a non-entity in the life of a Georgia fan this season. We signed the majority of our class in December during the early enrollee signing period. Our remaining commitments are firm and have no intention of switching. While this is a good thing, it does not lend much to excitement on Signing Day. The majority of the uncommitted players we are still pursuing have written us off at this point, much to the chagrin of myself and about 2,500 Dawgventers who have been gnashing teeth and blaming Richt for everything from the apparent loss of Georgia's "Mr. Football" Alvin Kamara, to the Kennedy assassination and the Vietnam War. We get our share of great players but we always seem to be on the outside looking in for these five star "holdouts." The same 4-5 schools are always in the mix for their services and these schools are normally at the precipice of NCAA sanctions or have already been nailed in the past.
In the last five years, the recruiting cycle in the SEC has become a form of cultural prostitution. The NCAA appears to be powerless to stop it and too unscrupulous to handle an investigation with propriety. Kids transfer more than ever before, creating these football factory high schools and killing the "hometown" feel of a Friday night tilt in Smalltown, USA. Mark my words, in Georgia, you will see the same 12-14 schools rotate as state champions every year. There will be no more Cinderella stories or diamonds in the rough. The Internet is a fountain of knowledge that needs to be turned off. I know more about these kids than I EVER wanted to know. I pay $99 per year to subscribe to Dawgvent and the content has dramatically changed since I started in 2004. What happened to the good ol days of 40 times, vertical leaps and cone drills? Now, thanks to Twitter, I know what Laremy Tunsil's girlfriend looks like Precious after an all night eating binge at Dunkin Donuts. Thanks to Twitter, I know Davin Bellamy was in a dorm room in Oregon with a bong (gasp!). Facebook let me know that Da'Rick Rogers likes to drink beer with fat white girls, Johnny Manziel likes to gamble on Indian reservations in the offseason, and Laquon Treadwell appeared to be $1,000 richer after leaving Oxford, Mississippi last time. Frankly, on the scale of "things I care about," the personal lives of 17 year olds falls below the following:
1) Did I download the live version of "My Baby Daddy" by B-Rock and the Bizz?
2) The number of times "Freebird!" has been yelled in the state of Alabama
3) My lamentation over my failure to buy a Hypercolor T-shirt in 1991
4) The 4,598,234 pigeons that just relieved themselves on Grand Central Station
5) The ignition timing of a 1983 Camaro
Money changes hands. Illegal promises are made. If this was a civil trial, there would a preponderance of evidence against so many programs. Those who appear to be guilty are never caught (in a timely fashion), those who play by the rules get left behind and the majority of programs, contrary to past years, now must "impress" the recruit. Kids leave their home state because they get better "deals" at other schools. Words like"bagman" and "under the table" have replaced "boy, he is fast" in recruiting discussions. Alabama picked up a commitment from Reuben Foster, a five star linebacker, yesterday. During his incoherent speech about why he chose the Tide, he used the term "business decision." That embodies all that is wrong with the state of recruiting in the southeast. When I was 18, the only "business decision" I made was whether I needed to buy the $0.79 Snickers or the $1.19 Snickers. The excitement of what used to be a wonderful day has been waning for me. I will still keep up with the days events but I'll only check the Dawgvent 12,537 times instead of my usual 19,435.
As you can see, I like to make lists when I am depressed. I am just going to bide my time until March gets here. There is plenty to do. Pitchers and catchers are reporting soon. College basketball will get fired up and the greatest spectacle in sports will ensue once again. The Walking Dead will return from its midseason break. The Beacon Theater has put out their new lineup for the Spring and it is going to be unreal. Yes will be in concert on April 9th. Brit Floyd, an awesome Pink Floyd cover band, will also perform in April. The most underrated guitarist in the universe, Joe Bonamassa, will be here in May. Most importantly, the Allman Brothers Band will be here in T-minus 23 days. They will spend half of March inundating the Upper West Side with 17 minute jam sessions, guest stars, Derek's unbelievable slide guitar work and Gregg belting out the words as only he can. I have already purchased tickets for a Saturday show and I plan for my "inner Cassville" to come out in full force. So, friends, I leave you with a final, more happy list.
Brad's Top 5 Most Underrated Allman Brothers songs:
5) Don't Want You No More
4) Little Martha
3) Hot Lanta
2) Mountain Jam
1) Dreams
I encourage each of you to listen to these wonderful songs and enjoy them. I guarantee they will brighten a cold, dark February day before you can say "I was born in the backseat of a Greyhound bus."
1) Justin Bieber comes out with a new album, covering the Allman Brothers in falsetto with Taylor Swift and other modern "artists." Ladies and gentlemen, on the stage to perform Midnight Rider......Lady Gaga and Nickelback. I could see Gregg just set his Hammond organ on fire and light a cigarette on the burning ashes.
2) American Idol signs on for 17 more seasons and the new judges are Kim Kardashian, Diane Feinstein and Jesse Jackson.
Jesse Jackson: "Contextually, that performance was perfunctory and prognostificacious." (Feinstein nods, Kim is still trying to figure out how to write a "K" in cursive)
Contestant: "What? You people make no sense."
Jesse Jackson: "What do you mean, YOU PEOPLE?"
3) MTV comes out with MTV3, a network solely dedicated to Jersey Shore reruns, Bjork music videos and eternal Kurt Cobain worship.
4) Wal-Mart, McDonald's and Apple merge into one giant company, thereby decreasing the per capita IQ of this country by 43 points and increasing the sale of sweatpants, houseshoes, Monster Energy drinks and Mountain Dew.
5) The NFL and NCAA, under immense pressure, decides that football will be two-hand touch in 2013. The UGA Administration bans tailgating altogether, moves all our games to Tuesday nights and gives half of the athletic budget to the rowing team.
Your steak is overcooked, your coffee is lukewarm and one of your headphones stops working while you are going for a run. Just inexplicable horrors run rampant in your life. Yes, y'all, I am talking about the month of February for sports fans.
I have lived through 31 Februarys in my life, each one worse than the last. Nothing happens in February. Football is gone. Baseball is a non-entity until March. Basketball is still in the midseason doldrums before their playoff runs. I think 37 people attended the last Hawks home game and that was a bunch of youth recreation teams who got in free. NASCAR has yet to begin, but quite frankly, it is no longer interesting to me. I did attempt to watch soccer last week at a bar in Manhattan but I instantly went into a boredom coma, fell out of my stool and landed in somebody's guacamole dip. When I was in Ireland last Fall, I watched soccer in a pub there, amongst the "hooligans" along the River Liffey in Dublin. It was Manchester United versus Everton (I think). The final score of the 2 hour and 45 minute game was 0-0. Basically, it was a cross country meet with a ball added into the mix. It got so bad that I started playing a drinking game by myself. Every time I thought about throwing myself into the river, I took a drink. 14 Guinness pints lost their lives that evening. These Irishmen were going NUTS over this game. It was like watching an oil puddle form in a Wal-Mart parking lot. To make matters worse the next morning, the local paper had a three page write-up on how Manchester almost scored once in the first ten minutes of the game. I looked at my waitress, Maggie Shaughnessy O'Callahan, and ordered a shot of Bailey's for my coffee.
Soccer needs three things to be interesting, if you ask me:
1) Fighting: At least once, a slide tackle needs to result in fisticuffs. A brouhaha. A donnybrook. A bench clearing slugfest. Penalize the offender(s) in soundproof boxes next to each other, however, allow them access to dry erase markers so they may write their feelings on the box for all to see until they get out.
2) More Points: Extra points for longer kicks. Bicycle kicks are worth ten points. If the goalie scores with a cross field kick, the game is over, you lose.
3) Shorten and narrow the playing field by 20 yards: These guys are 765 miles away from the goal, no wonder they never score. I swear I saw a coach send a telegram to a player during the World Cup because he was so far downfield. If you want a gigantic American audience, it is not hard to entice us. We want scoring, blood, possibly a fight or two and scantily clad cheerleaders to shoot t-shirts out of a bazooka.
Signing Day does occur on February 6th, but even that has become a non-entity in the life of a Georgia fan this season. We signed the majority of our class in December during the early enrollee signing period. Our remaining commitments are firm and have no intention of switching. While this is a good thing, it does not lend much to excitement on Signing Day. The majority of the uncommitted players we are still pursuing have written us off at this point, much to the chagrin of myself and about 2,500 Dawgventers who have been gnashing teeth and blaming Richt for everything from the apparent loss of Georgia's "Mr. Football" Alvin Kamara, to the Kennedy assassination and the Vietnam War. We get our share of great players but we always seem to be on the outside looking in for these five star "holdouts." The same 4-5 schools are always in the mix for their services and these schools are normally at the precipice of NCAA sanctions or have already been nailed in the past.
In the last five years, the recruiting cycle in the SEC has become a form of cultural prostitution. The NCAA appears to be powerless to stop it and too unscrupulous to handle an investigation with propriety. Kids transfer more than ever before, creating these football factory high schools and killing the "hometown" feel of a Friday night tilt in Smalltown, USA. Mark my words, in Georgia, you will see the same 12-14 schools rotate as state champions every year. There will be no more Cinderella stories or diamonds in the rough. The Internet is a fountain of knowledge that needs to be turned off. I know more about these kids than I EVER wanted to know. I pay $99 per year to subscribe to Dawgvent and the content has dramatically changed since I started in 2004. What happened to the good ol days of 40 times, vertical leaps and cone drills? Now, thanks to Twitter, I know what Laremy Tunsil's girlfriend looks like Precious after an all night eating binge at Dunkin Donuts. Thanks to Twitter, I know Davin Bellamy was in a dorm room in Oregon with a bong (gasp!). Facebook let me know that Da'Rick Rogers likes to drink beer with fat white girls, Johnny Manziel likes to gamble on Indian reservations in the offseason, and Laquon Treadwell appeared to be $1,000 richer after leaving Oxford, Mississippi last time. Frankly, on the scale of "things I care about," the personal lives of 17 year olds falls below the following:
1) Did I download the live version of "My Baby Daddy" by B-Rock and the Bizz?
2) The number of times "Freebird!" has been yelled in the state of Alabama
3) My lamentation over my failure to buy a Hypercolor T-shirt in 1991
4) The 4,598,234 pigeons that just relieved themselves on Grand Central Station
5) The ignition timing of a 1983 Camaro
Money changes hands. Illegal promises are made. If this was a civil trial, there would a preponderance of evidence against so many programs. Those who appear to be guilty are never caught (in a timely fashion), those who play by the rules get left behind and the majority of programs, contrary to past years, now must "impress" the recruit. Kids leave their home state because they get better "deals" at other schools. Words like"bagman" and "under the table" have replaced "boy, he is fast" in recruiting discussions. Alabama picked up a commitment from Reuben Foster, a five star linebacker, yesterday. During his incoherent speech about why he chose the Tide, he used the term "business decision." That embodies all that is wrong with the state of recruiting in the southeast. When I was 18, the only "business decision" I made was whether I needed to buy the $0.79 Snickers or the $1.19 Snickers. The excitement of what used to be a wonderful day has been waning for me. I will still keep up with the days events but I'll only check the Dawgvent 12,537 times instead of my usual 19,435.
As you can see, I like to make lists when I am depressed. I am just going to bide my time until March gets here. There is plenty to do. Pitchers and catchers are reporting soon. College basketball will get fired up and the greatest spectacle in sports will ensue once again. The Walking Dead will return from its midseason break. The Beacon Theater has put out their new lineup for the Spring and it is going to be unreal. Yes will be in concert on April 9th. Brit Floyd, an awesome Pink Floyd cover band, will also perform in April. The most underrated guitarist in the universe, Joe Bonamassa, will be here in May. Most importantly, the Allman Brothers Band will be here in T-minus 23 days. They will spend half of March inundating the Upper West Side with 17 minute jam sessions, guest stars, Derek's unbelievable slide guitar work and Gregg belting out the words as only he can. I have already purchased tickets for a Saturday show and I plan for my "inner Cassville" to come out in full force. So, friends, I leave you with a final, more happy list.
Brad's Top 5 Most Underrated Allman Brothers songs:
5) Don't Want You No More
4) Little Martha
3) Hot Lanta
2) Mountain Jam
1) Dreams
I encourage each of you to listen to these wonderful songs and enjoy them. I guarantee they will brighten a cold, dark February day before you can say "I was born in the backseat of a Greyhound bus."
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About Me
- Brad
- I'm good at people watching and the memorization of useless facts. I'm voracious eater, reader, Crossfitter and Dawg fan. Shamelessly devoted to the cause of making 9-5 not suck so bad.