"He instinctively can find the shining greatness of our American culture and does a good job of highlighting it (although he also does have those rare lapses when he writes about hockey, but that is something caused by impurities in the Eastern waters or something)." Erik Keilholtz
Under the patronage of St. Tammany
Mark C. N. Sullivan is an editor at a Massachusetts university. He is married and the father of three children. Email
Guilty confession: My favorite part of last night’s election coverage was watching Rachel Maddow’s demeanor go from exuberant, to smug, to infuriated over the results of the marriage referendum in Maine. And then she seemed to lose interest.
It now appears highly likely that, when all the votes are counted, Maine will join every other state in the union (which has had a popular vote on the issue) in rejecting gay marriage.
This result comes despite Maine being a liberal state, despite a 2-1 funding disadvantage, despite aggressive legal action against traditional-marriage defenders, despite unusually high voter turn out, and despite Rachel Maddow and the elite press running interference.
Proponents of same-sex marriage, unlike in California’s Prop 8, can’t blame Maine on Mormons, on African Americans who turned out for Barack Obama, or on confusing ballot wording. Their issue loses when the people decide. And it loses every time. #
Monday, November 02, 2009
Wee Willie Wilkin
Washington Redskin Wilbur "Wee Willie" Wilkin from St. Mary's College was a dominant tackle in the NFL's early years, known as much for his Rabelaisian nightlife off the field as for his bruising play on it. "He was 6-foot-6 and weighed 270 pounds, give or take a few cocktails," wrote Washington Post sportswriter Bob Addie. The author of The Redskins, 1937-1958, Morris A. Bealle, called him "a man mountain of bone, muscle and sinew." One newspaper in 1940 described him this way: "Is a veritable Gibraltar on defense and likes to block punts by crashing through, bodily picking up a protecting blocker and tossing him into the punter."
One of Sammy Baugh's favorite stories – one that no matter how many times he told it he couldn’t keep himself from laughing – involved teammate Willie Wilkin…Redskins coach Ray Flaherty and the 1942 NFL all-star game at snowy Shibe Park in Philadelphia.
Wee Willie, a notorious drinker, was a no-show the morning of the game. Baugh said there was a rumor that Wilkin didn’t get back to the hotel until 2:30 that morning, then left again at 4 a.m.
Just before the all-star team headed to the field for warm-ups, Wilkin arrived drunk and carrying his coat.
“Somebody finally told him where his locker was and we all just sat and watched him,” Sam said. “He slowly took one shoe off and put on one of his cleats. But he hadn’t taken off his pants yet, so he had to start over again.”
About that time, Flaherty poked his head out of the office to see if the tackle had arrived and spotted Wilkin sitting on a bench with one leg in his pants and the other out.
“You could just see the coach’s face turning red and he walks over to where Willie is sitting,” Sam described. “Neither one of them says a word. Then all of the sudden, that coach just reared back and knocked the fire out of Wee Willie. Kaboom! He knocked him right off that bench and Wee Willie started crying.
“He’s laying there with one leg in his pants and the other on the bench, and while he’s crying he says, ‘Aw coach, I was going to play a hell of a game for you, but you done broke my spirit.”
Sam would then burst out laughing.
“Broke my spirit. That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “The sumbitch is still crying and coach yells at him, ‘I’m going to start you and leave you in the game until you die!”
Chaney plays Paul Beaumont, an aspiring scientist who loses everything in one horrific day – his theories are stolen, he is disgraced before his peers, and his wife scorns him in favour of the man who robbed him. Each horror culminates in a slap to the face. Beaumont cracks, begins to laugh, and the next time we see him he’s employed as a circus clown and known only as HE. And then the film’s true story begins...
Freud once remarked that Chaplin was a simple case: a rich man driven to endlessly replay the trauma of poverty by dressing as a tramp. As usual, Freud was mistaken, at least partly: Chaplin quickly tired of his tramp persona but was compelled by the public to maintain it. But Chaney’s character, HE, obsessively revisits his own trauma, re-enacting the slap that ended his first life, again and again, for the delectation of the circus audience. As an exploration of emotional masochism, He Who gets Slapped is an extraordinary work, far removed from the romantic glitz MGM would make its stock-in-trade. #
Recommended for new age nitwits and chuckleheads alike....scientifically mixed in Shemp-A-Rama for your enlightened casaba-banging pleasure.... Soar the Horwitz heavens and become one with Shemp's karma on the Heee Beee Beee Beee side... transhempify your mind and cook your chakras on the life-infirming Ahh Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha side.
Elsewhere:
A vast lode of myriad phobias:He was afraid of water, afraid of heights, afraid to drive, afraid to ride in a car. He wouldn't get on a plane, he jumped at every noise, and he was afraid of every dog but his own Collie, Wags.
'Cozy' Dolan says: Go you Phillies They're out to win, win ev-'ry day. Every victory is sweet. Watch 'em hit that ball a mile; play a game that's packed with thrills. Get Pa to bring your Mother, Sister and your Brother Come out to see the Fight-in' Phils. The fight, fight, fight-'in Phils.
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