Until I ran down the Joe Meek tribute on Mt. Holly Mayor’s Office, I didn’t know that he was the producer of one of my all-time favorite 1960s songs, or that he sped up the tape in the mastering process (which explains why the lead vocalist seems to be halfway to the Chipmunks).
Fabby video.
You just can’t beat the Web for smarts!
The end of the Michelin-man era. Ball players are noticeably leaner. Team focus is on speed, defense, skill positions — all the makings of a small-ball renaissance. The economy drives a renewed focus on farm systems and growing from within, as opposed to spending from without.
Prospects for my personal albatross, the White Sox, are poor this season, ideally a transition-on-the-fly — from Dye and Konerko and Thome to Beckham and Getz and Poreda. Which is disheartening, especially with the prospect of a flush Cubs team.
But I’m looking forward to a great year.
Good announcers make the
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During Viet Nam I struggled with the stupidity of adults with responsibility for conducting the war and sending thousands of Americans and Vietnamese to death and disability. One of my professors, who made a good-faith effort to provide mentorship, used to tell me that people with different positions were important because they sharpen our understanding of who we are, of our deeper values.
Bottom line: Cheney and company have done us a great service.
They have defined who we are not as a nation. They have humanized us, proved that, despite principles and our history, we too are ruthless,
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