My dog died. Heart failure. Mom took him for a walk, he came back breathing hard and heart racing. She called me, in tears, as soon as she got home from the vet's. At least he didn't snap in half, as dachshunds are wont to do.
He was more my brother's dog -- he was only 10 or 11 years old, I never had nor wanted a childhood pet -- but he was a good dog, and could count to three; Dad always gave him three treats, and if anybody gave him less than that he'd look up at them and do the sad-puppy face until he got the third.
I'm a godless heathen, so I won't ask you to pray for my dog, but I am married to an Irish baroness, so my humble request is that you pour a double of your favorite drink and toast to Bandit.
He was more my brother's dog -- he was only 10 or 11 years old, I never had nor wanted a childhood pet -- but he was a good dog, and could count to three; Dad always gave him three treats, and if anybody gave him less than that he'd look up at them and do the sad-puppy face until he got the third.
I'm a godless heathen, so I won't ask you to pray for my dog, but I am married to an Irish baroness, so my humble request is that you pour a double of your favorite drink and toast to Bandit.
Or: On being a journalist on the weekend of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in a town that's only surpassed in racism by certain parts of Georgia and Alabama
Prelude: The church the MLK day Sunday service was held at this year (it rotates between mostly-black and mostly-white churches every year, for the "togetherness" theme) was Mobberly Baptist, named after the street the original church building was on. It's now a "white" church on the extreme north side of town; that area is the new business district, but when the church moved there in the mid-'70s it was the only non-residential building past the mall, a couple miles south. Mobberly Ave., the original location, is on the south side of town -- I go down that road today, I'm the only white boy south of the newspaper office (located in the middle of the old downtown, a block south of the Highway where all the north/south streets hit zero). In other words, white flight like a motherfucker, and yet they still take their turn hosting the MLK service, presumably hoping to atone for the move.
So the service had the pastor of the hosting church (Guido McCracker, looks like a guy who would borrow your car in New Joisey, and shoot somebody in it) saying something that boiled down to "Hey, youniggers wonderful people from all over town, we all love each other here because we're Christians."
Then the high-school MLK essay contest winners; the third- and second-place contestants were black kids who made good points. First place was a white boy who referenced 9/11, at which point I stopped listening -- I know, NEVAR FORGET and all, but it's been eight years, get over it. Next up: the school art contest was dreadful, one of the trifecta being built around a terrible pun (Shoes on a globe, "Soles" as a pun on "souls").
Then the head of the city's race relations committee, talking about how all the young black men are in jail and implying that it's the fault of the White Man, otherwise they'd be productive members of society instead of felons. (Reporter to me, on smoke break: "Has she ever talked to those guys in jail? I'll admit that it's partially society to blame, but jeez, those guys are fucked up.")
After that, a white protestant preacher (I forget his exact denomination) and a Southern Baptist preacher (who appears to have some non-European blood, but he's from Baton Rouge, and that alone makes it a miracle he got to be in charge of an SBC church in this town) read from the New and Old Testaments. I forget the exact chapter and verse, but neither were all that related to the topic at hand.
Then there was some more singing (which I've not been mentioning, but there was music between each paragraph above, the only decent one being a woman with an awesome voice masterfully singing Dr. King's favorite hymn), and then a black Baptist preacher gave the sermon, which, again, was at best tangentially related to the occasion. At this point, two and a half hours in, I (and my reporter, who got nothing from anybody earlier -- usually he can write this event in the first ten minutes with quotes from the intro and go home early -- and really needed ten inches of copy) would've been satisfied with a speech about how Whitey's still keepin' the black man down, but it was standard modern-Christian bullshit about how "if you have problems, JAYSUS will help ya!"
At this point, the reporter an I were worrying that we wouldn't have anything to say about the service. But we'd sat through three hours, and it was still a good 20 minutes to deadline, so we stopped on the way to the door to hear the closing prayer.
The Reverend Lamar F. Jones, pastor of Galilee Baptist in Hallsville (not technically in the city this was being held in and nominally unifying, but close enough to be in listed in the Greater Longview phone book), stepped up to the pulpit for the benediction. That's what it said in the program, anyway.
Brother Lamar's speech, however, damn near made me find religion. First he did the standard "if you're not a Christian, but have found God, come to the altar and accept Jesus into your heart now" bit. No theatrics, no shouting, no singing (I suppose the budget for all that was used up in the sermon). Just speaking in a conversational tone into the mic. Nobody moved. "Well," he said, and chuckled. "I guess we're all saved, then."
(I'll just copy-paste from the news story for the big ending, copyrights be damned, because Glenn Evans is a far better writer than I -- for all the shit I give him about a picture being worth a thousand words, Glenn is a Journalist, with the capital J, in the mold of Hunter S.:)
______________
Then he issued his secondary plea, first describing the ministers' earlier discussions about race relations in Longview.
"As a matter of fact, we're sick and tired of coming each year and saying, 'We're going to do better,' and never doing better," he said. "We come across to various churches (each MLK Day) and we worship together, and sometimes we don't see each other for another year. But, this year, we're going to do better. We're going to make a change. We're going to do what's right, and part of doing what's right is we're going to make a commitment."
He then invited the remaining 300-plus congregants to gather before the pulpit where he stood. All but a scattered few answered the invitation.
"Tonight, if you're ready to make a commitment, we'll do better this year," he said. " 'I'm willing to get to know somebody that I normally don't take the time to get to know.' It's not about black, it's not about white. It's about us as a community coming together, willing to make a difference."
Members of the congregation before the pulpit joined hands, some hugging while others lifted palms skyward in the cavernous sanctuary.
"Say, 'Tonight I'm going to tear down my prejudice,'" Jones said. "It's our home. We live here, work here, worship here. What matters tonight is, we are Christians, and by the love we have for one another, the world will know when we walk out these doors that we're going to make a difference. Dr. King had a dream. You need to have a dream. I dream of Longview being a better place. I dream of Longview not having north side, south side — just Longview."
______________
In conclusion, I raise my glass to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who helped to end segregation if not racism; to the Reverend Lamar Jones, whom I respect for his sincerity of belief even though I am not a believer; and to Glenn Evans, who is a Journalist like Lamar is a Baptist, and takes notes in his own personal form of shorthand far faster than I can even listen (and then asks me for help deciphering his own handwriting).
Prelude: The church the MLK day Sunday service was held at this year (it rotates between mostly-black and mostly-white churches every year, for the "togetherness" theme) was Mobberly Baptist, named after the street the original church building was on. It's now a "white" church on the extreme north side of town; that area is the new business district, but when the church moved there in the mid-'70s it was the only non-residential building past the mall, a couple miles south. Mobberly Ave., the original location, is on the south side of town -- I go down that road today, I'm the only white boy south of the newspaper office (located in the middle of the old downtown, a block south of the Highway where all the north/south streets hit zero). In other words, white flight like a motherfucker, and yet they still take their turn hosting the MLK service, presumably hoping to atone for the move.
So the service had the pastor of the hosting church (Guido McCracker, looks like a guy who would borrow your car in New Joisey, and shoot somebody in it) saying something that boiled down to "Hey, you
Then the high-school MLK essay contest winners; the third- and second-place contestants were black kids who made good points. First place was a white boy who referenced 9/11, at which point I stopped listening -- I know, NEVAR FORGET and all, but it's been eight years, get over it. Next up: the school art contest was dreadful, one of the trifecta being built around a terrible pun (Shoes on a globe, "Soles" as a pun on "souls").
Then the head of the city's race relations committee, talking about how all the young black men are in jail and implying that it's the fault of the White Man, otherwise they'd be productive members of society instead of felons. (Reporter to me, on smoke break: "Has she ever talked to those guys in jail? I'll admit that it's partially society to blame, but jeez, those guys are fucked up.")
After that, a white protestant preacher (I forget his exact denomination) and a Southern Baptist preacher (who appears to have some non-European blood, but he's from Baton Rouge, and that alone makes it a miracle he got to be in charge of an SBC church in this town) read from the New and Old Testaments. I forget the exact chapter and verse, but neither were all that related to the topic at hand.
Then there was some more singing (which I've not been mentioning, but there was music between each paragraph above, the only decent one being a woman with an awesome voice masterfully singing Dr. King's favorite hymn), and then a black Baptist preacher gave the sermon, which, again, was at best tangentially related to the occasion. At this point, two and a half hours in, I (and my reporter, who got nothing from anybody earlier -- usually he can write this event in the first ten minutes with quotes from the intro and go home early -- and really needed ten inches of copy) would've been satisfied with a speech about how Whitey's still keepin' the black man down, but it was standard modern-Christian bullshit about how "if you have problems, JAYSUS will help ya!"
At this point, the reporter an I were worrying that we wouldn't have anything to say about the service. But we'd sat through three hours, and it was still a good 20 minutes to deadline, so we stopped on the way to the door to hear the closing prayer.
The Reverend Lamar F. Jones, pastor of Galilee Baptist in Hallsville (not technically in the city this was being held in and nominally unifying, but close enough to be in listed in the Greater Longview phone book), stepped up to the pulpit for the benediction. That's what it said in the program, anyway.
Brother Lamar's speech, however, damn near made me find religion. First he did the standard "if you're not a Christian, but have found God, come to the altar and accept Jesus into your heart now" bit. No theatrics, no shouting, no singing (I suppose the budget for all that was used up in the sermon). Just speaking in a conversational tone into the mic. Nobody moved. "Well," he said, and chuckled. "I guess we're all saved, then."
(I'll just copy-paste from the news story for the big ending, copyrights be damned, because Glenn Evans is a far better writer than I -- for all the shit I give him about a picture being worth a thousand words, Glenn is a Journalist, with the capital J, in the mold of Hunter S.:)
______________
Then he issued his secondary plea, first describing the ministers' earlier discussions about race relations in Longview.
"As a matter of fact, we're sick and tired of coming each year and saying, 'We're going to do better,' and never doing better," he said. "We come across to various churches (each MLK Day) and we worship together, and sometimes we don't see each other for another year. But, this year, we're going to do better. We're going to make a change. We're going to do what's right, and part of doing what's right is we're going to make a commitment."
He then invited the remaining 300-plus congregants to gather before the pulpit where he stood. All but a scattered few answered the invitation.
"Tonight, if you're ready to make a commitment, we'll do better this year," he said. " 'I'm willing to get to know somebody that I normally don't take the time to get to know.' It's not about black, it's not about white. It's about us as a community coming together, willing to make a difference."
Members of the congregation before the pulpit joined hands, some hugging while others lifted palms skyward in the cavernous sanctuary.
"Say, 'Tonight I'm going to tear down my prejudice,'" Jones said. "It's our home. We live here, work here, worship here. What matters tonight is, we are Christians, and by the love we have for one another, the world will know when we walk out these doors that we're going to make a difference. Dr. King had a dream. You need to have a dream. I dream of Longview being a better place. I dream of Longview not having north side, south side — just Longview."
______________
In conclusion, I raise my glass to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who helped to end segregation if not racism; to the Reverend Lamar Jones, whom I respect for his sincerity of belief even though I am not a believer; and to Glenn Evans, who is a Journalist like Lamar is a Baptist, and takes notes in his own personal form of shorthand far faster than I can even listen (and then asks me for help deciphering his own handwriting).
No matter what your opinion of country music, you have to admit Neal McCoy is one hell of a showman.
Going through my userpics, I have:
Nine booze-related (most have liquor in the picture, the bonus point is the Derrick sunset -- it's a liquor-store sign)
Seventeen cigarettes/cigars/pipes
Seven top hats
Three cameras
Seven with at least one firearm/cannon in the picture
Four typewriters
Nine booze-related (most have liquor in the picture, the bonus point is the Derrick sunset -- it's a liquor-store sign)
Seventeen cigarettes/cigars/pipes
Seven top hats
Three cameras
Seven with at least one firearm/cannon in the picture
Four typewriters
I want this sign for my own kitchen.
I just realized I am well within six degrees of ass-touching to Nolan Ryan, God of Baseball (see previous entry):
I, being a big brother, have disciplined my little brother with spankings.
My lil' bro played high school baseball with Chris Davis, currently first baseman of the Texas Rangers. As you all know, ballplayers pat each other on the ass regularly.
Chris is on a team with Hank Blalock, who worked with Pudge Rodriguez, who was the other half of Nolan Ryan's badassery.
On a semi-related note, Ryan threw a 100mph fastball to Pudge, and Pudge threw a 100mph fastball to second base to pick off the stealer. Why did anybody bother trying to steal a base against them? It just wasn't physically possible. I'm considering working out the math, but no. I mustn't.
Pudge actually started out as a pitcher, but was too good -- the other little league coaches petitioned to have him moved because he was pitching too fast and scaring the batters. It is the opinion of commentators and teammates alike that Pudge could play any position on the diamond (except maybe 1B, he's too short).
I hope when he retires (if he ever does -- looks like he's going to challenge Ryan for longevity) that he follows in the footsteps of the original Pudge and throws a ceremonial first pitch to his favorite pitcher.
In other newsy news, Ivan-Pudge recently surpassed Carlton-Pudge for the record for most games caught. So now the two longest-lived catchers in the history of the game have the same nickname. And to make it even more awesome, Rodriguez beat Fisk's record in a sort of subway series against the team that made him famous.
Here's Pudge kissing a dude because it's hilarious:
I, being a big brother, have disciplined my little brother with spankings.
My lil' bro played high school baseball with Chris Davis, currently first baseman of the Texas Rangers. As you all know, ballplayers pat each other on the ass regularly.
Chris is on a team with Hank Blalock, who worked with Pudge Rodriguez, who was the other half of Nolan Ryan's badassery.
On a semi-related note, Ryan threw a 100mph fastball to Pudge, and Pudge threw a 100mph fastball to second base to pick off the stealer. Why did anybody bother trying to steal a base against them? It just wasn't physically possible. I'm considering working out the math, but no. I mustn't.
Pudge actually started out as a pitcher, but was too good -- the other little league coaches petitioned to have him moved because he was pitching too fast and scaring the batters. It is the opinion of commentators and teammates alike that Pudge could play any position on the diamond (except maybe 1B, he's too short).
I hope when he retires (if he ever does -- looks like he's going to challenge Ryan for longevity) that he follows in the footsteps of the original Pudge and throws a ceremonial first pitch to his favorite pitcher.
In other newsy news, Ivan-Pudge recently surpassed Carlton-Pudge for the record for most games caught. So now the two longest-lived catchers in the history of the game have the same nickname. And to make it even more awesome, Rodriguez beat Fisk's record in a sort of subway series against the team that made him famous.
Here's Pudge kissing a dude because it's hilarious:
Somehow the topic turned to baseball, and I mentioned Nolan Ryan because he was a pretty badass dude. Come on, the man pitched 27 seasons, retired at age 46 two games earlier than he'd planned because his arm blew out. And he threw one more pitch after he tore a ligament; that last pitch of his career, with floppy noodle arm, was a 98-mph fastball.
Then I GIS'd him, and I cannot stop laughing at this picture.
Probably the only instance in MLB history where a batter charged the mound and the catcher intervened to save the batter. August 4, 1993 -- Ryan beans Robin Ventura of the White Sox, Ventura charges the mound, Ryan puts Ventura -- 20 years his junior -- in a headlock and gets six punches in before Pudge rescues him. Ventura and his manager were ejected; Ryan was allowed to stay in because he didn't move from the mound, and finished the game without giving up a hit.
And this one is just fucking :metal:. Caught a line drive with his fucking teeth, and finished the game, pausing only to wipe the blood off on his shirt and glare at the next batter in a manner reminiscent of Harry Callahan's ". . . you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?' "
Then I GIS'd him, and I cannot stop laughing at this picture.
Probably the only instance in MLB history where a batter charged the mound and the catcher intervened to save the batter. August 4, 1993 -- Ryan beans Robin Ventura of the White Sox, Ventura charges the mound, Ryan puts Ventura -- 20 years his junior -- in a headlock and gets six punches in before Pudge rescues him. Ventura and his manager were ejected; Ryan was allowed to stay in because he didn't move from the mound, and finished the game without giving up a hit.
And this one is just fucking :metal:. Caught a line drive with his fucking teeth, and finished the game, pausing only to wipe the blood off on his shirt and glare at the next batter in a manner reminiscent of Harry Callahan's ". . . you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?' "
Company E, 16th Infantry, 1st Infantry Division, wades out of the Higgins boat and into Hell to drive the Nazi scourge out of France. Photo by Robert F. Sargent. Click for bigness.
I don't know why I make this post every year; my grandfather was in the Pacific. I guess I have a thing for D-Day like
chikkiboo has for the Great War. Or maybe I just think it's awesome that everybody said "Y'know, we're tired of this Nazi bullshit. Let's invade Europe." and then went and did it. A tiny island nation got together with their colony and former colony half a world and a whole lot of U-Boats away and rescued an entire continent (with a bit of help from la résistance). Outnumbered by well over two to one, we got almost as many of them as they did of us, and began the end of the (second) war to end all wars.Hats off to Ike, Monty, le Grand Charles, and all those who served under them, with a nod to the rank-and-file German soldier too -- piss-poor management, but the average conscript was just doing his job on pain of death, after all.
Please excuse the lateness. I've had a long day.
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Another old church near downtown…