MLB lost a great one yesterday as Don Baylor passed away. Baylor was a flat out stud, and while he compiled many prestigious awards (AL MVP, Manager of the Year, Roberto Clemente Award, etc.) to me, he'll always be known for his ability to get hit by the pitch. Indeed, he ranks 4th all time in that unique stat.
Note that he accomplished this in an era before all of the "armour" worn by today's players. When Baylor got hit, it hit meat and bone. But when it happened, you'd barely know by looking at Baylor. He never grimaced or rubbed the offending wound. He'd just throw his bat down and run to first. As I said, a flat stud.
He also was a hired gun that the Twins used to bring home their first-ever World Series championship. Here's a bit of a taste of that:
Rest in peace.
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
Monday, August 7, 2017
Bloomington MN Mosque Bombing Smells Like BS
Last week, in Bloomington, Minnesota, a mosque was "attacked" with some kind of bomb at 5:00 AM. A witness claims to have seen a "pickup truck" drive away from the site at a rapid rate of speed. Nobody was hurt, but immediately calls went up decrying the racism rampant in our society, and the abject hate that exists in the Twin Cities for those of the Muslim faith.
I may be wrong, but this whole story seems just that to me - a story. Indeed, a bomb went off within a mosque. However, there are a couple of things that don't add up:
- If you hate Islam so much that you're willing to bomb a local mosque, why use such a weak bomb? Likewise, if your hate has driven you to bomb, why set it off when there would be no casualties?
- If the answers to the questions above were "they just wanted to send a message," wouldn't an easier way to do that (and one that can avoid federal prison) be to just spray paint the building with your grievances?
- Realy hate Muslims? Why not just go picking fights with them? None of that has been reported at all.
I don't believe this was a hate crime. In fact, I think this was an act of distraction, designed to take the pressure of the situation of a Muslim cop killing a white woman in cold blood, by someone sympathetic to the Muslim cause in Minneapolis.
If something looks and smells like this much bullshit, it usually is.
I'm happy to apologize if I'm wrong, but I think in the days and weeks ahead, we're going to find out there are some really funny things going on with this story.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Aflac Hates Men
Don't believe me? Check it out:
Wasn't that funny? Stupid, white dad nearly killed the vacation. Men are so selfish! And dumb!
Now imagine this same ad with mom hurt. Or the kid hurt. Or with Muslim dad. Or homosexual dad. Or black dad.
Can't imagine it? Me either. That's because nobody is more universally hated than a white man. This ad is another in a long line of ads that help prove it.
Wasn't that funny? Stupid, white dad nearly killed the vacation. Men are so selfish! And dumb!
Now imagine this same ad with mom hurt. Or the kid hurt. Or with Muslim dad. Or homosexual dad. Or black dad.
Can't imagine it? Me either. That's because nobody is more universally hated than a white man. This ad is another in a long line of ads that help prove it.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
Saturday Song Share: The Donnas - Take it Off
I'm a huge fan of this band, and had the good fortune of seeing them live in NYC a number of years ago.
Here's a fave:
Here's a fave:
Friday, August 4, 2017
Procter and Gamble "The Talk" Video
One of the biggest names in consumer products has waded into the national dialog on race. One could expect how this turns out:
The stereotypes here are nearly laughable - the white kids chasing down the black kid in a clearly Southern locale (and called him the "N" word to boot). The fact that there is so much abject racism in our society that in order to compete with whites that blacks need "to work twice as hard and be twice as smart." That when cops stop blacks in America, the cops kill them. Happens all the time.
All we missed were images of the Klan, because the Klan is everywhere. Swing and a miss, P&G...
How does this advance our society? What is the goal of this message?
Most importantly, how in the hell is this going to sell more Tide?
The stereotypes here are nearly laughable - the white kids chasing down the black kid in a clearly Southern locale (and called him the "N" word to boot). The fact that there is so much abject racism in our society that in order to compete with whites that blacks need "to work twice as hard and be twice as smart." That when cops stop blacks in America, the cops kill them. Happens all the time.
All we missed were images of the Klan, because the Klan is everywhere. Swing and a miss, P&G...
How does this advance our society? What is the goal of this message?
Most importantly, how in the hell is this going to sell more Tide?
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Ben Shapiro - My New Man Crush
I've bumped into Ben Shapiro a bunch in the past, and have consistently found him to be learned and measured in how he covers political hot buttons. His rhetorical skills are among the best I've ever seen, and I find his engagements with folks on the other side of the political spectrum as riveting.
I've recently started listening to his daily podcasts and have been enjoying them greatly. Here's a little sample of his engagements and speaking style:
I've recently started listening to his daily podcasts and have been enjoying them greatly. Here's a little sample of his engagements and speaking style:
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Yale and Haerter - A Story of What Marines Do
From a speech from Lt. General John Kelly:
Two years ago when I was the Commander of all U.S. and Iraqi forces, in fact, the 22nd of April 2008, two Marine infantry battalions, 1/9 “The Walking Dead,” and 2/8 were switching out in Ramadi. One battalion in the closing days of their deployment going home very soon, the other just starting its seven-month combat tour.
Two Marines, Corporal Jonathan Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, 22 and 20 years old respectively, one from each battalion, were assuming the watch together at the entrance gate of an outpost that contained a makeshift barracks housing 50 Marines.
The same broken down ramshackle building was also home to 100 Iraqi police, also my men and our allies in the fight against the terrorists in Ramadi, a city until recently the most dangerous city on earth and owned by Al Qaeda. Yale was a dirt poor mixed-race kid from Virginia with a wife and daughter, and a mother and sister who lived with him and he supported as well. He did this on a yearly salary of less than $23,000. Haerter, on the other hand, was a middle class white kid from Long Island.
They were from two completely different worlds. Had they not joined the Marines they would never have met each other, or understood that multiple America’s exist simultaneously depending on one’s race, education level, economic status, and where you might have been born. But they were Marines, combat Marines, forged in the same crucible of Marine training, and because of this bond they were brothers as close, or closer, than if they were born of the same woman.
The mission orders they received from the sergeant squad leader I am sure went something like: “Okay you two clowns, stand this post and let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass.” “You clear?” I am also sure Yale and Haerter then rolled their eyes and said in unison something like: “Yes Sergeant,” with just enough attitude that made the point without saying the words, “No kidding sweetheart, we know what we’re doing.” They then relieved two other Marines on watch and took up their post at the entry control point of Joint Security Station Nasser, in the Sophia section of Ramadi, al Anbar, Iraq.
A few minutes later a large blue truck turned down the alley way—perhaps 60-70 yards in length—and sped its way through the serpentine of concrete jersey walls. The truck stopped just short of where the two were posted and detonated, killing them both catastrophically. Twenty-four brick masonry houses were damaged or destroyed. A mosque 100 yards away collapsed. The truck’s engine came to rest two hundred yards away knocking most of a house down before it stopped.
Our explosive experts reckoned the blast was made of 2,000 pounds of explosives. Two died, and because these two young infantrymen didn’t have it in their DNA to run from danger, they saved 150 of their Iraqi and American brothers-in-arms.
When I read the situation report about the incident a few hours after it happened I called the regimental commander for details as something about this struck me as different. Marines dying or being seriously wounded is commonplace in combat. We expect Marines regardless of rank or MOS to stand their ground and do their duty, and even die in the process, if that is what the mission takes. But this just seemed different.
The regimental commander had just returned from the site and he agreed, but reported that there were no American witnesses to the event—just Iraqi police. I figured if there was any chance of finding out what actually happened and then to decorate the two Marines to acknowledge their bravery, I’d have to do it as a combat award that requires two eye-witnesses and we figured the bureaucrats back in Washington would never buy Iraqi statements. If it had any chance at all, it had to come under the signature of a general officer.
I traveled to Ramadi the next day and spoke individually to a half-dozen Iraqi police all of whom told the same story. The blue truck turned down into the alley and immediately sped up as it made its way through the serpentine. They all said, “We knew immediately what was going on as soon as the two Marines began firing.” The Iraqi police then related that some of them also fired, and then to a man, ran for safety just prior to the explosion.
All survived. Many were injured … some seriously. One of the Iraqis elaborated and with tears welling up said, “They’d run like any normal man would to save his life.”
What he didn’t know until then, he said, and what he learned that very instant, was that Marines are not normal. Choking past the emotion he said, “Sir, in the name of God no sane man would have stood there and done what they did.”
“No sane man.”
“They saved us all.”
What we didn’t know at the time, and only learned a couple of days later after I wrote a summary and submitted both Yale and Haerter for posthumous Navy Crosses, was that one of our security cameras, damaged initially in the blast, recorded some of the suicide attack. It happened exactly as the Iraqis had described it. It took exactly six seconds from when the truck entered the alley until it detonated.
You can watch the last six seconds of their young lives. Putting myself in their heads I supposed it took about a second for the two Marines to separately come to the same conclusion about what was going on once the truck came into their view at the far end of the alley. Exactly no time to talk it over, or call the sergeant to ask what they should do. Only enough time to take half an instant and think about what the sergeant told them to do only a few minutes before: “ … let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass.”
The two Marines had about five seconds left to live. It took maybe another two seconds for them to present their weapons, take aim, and open up. By this time the truck was half-way through the barriers and gaining speed the whole time. Here, the recording shows a number of Iraqi police, some of whom had fired their AKs, now scattering like the normal and rational men they were—some running right past the Marines. They had three seconds left to live.
For about two seconds more, the recording shows the Marines’ weapons firing non-stop…the truck’s windshield exploding into shards of glass as their rounds take it apart and tore in to the body of the son-of-a-bitch who is trying to get past them to kill their brothers—American and Iraqi—bedded down in the barracks totally unaware of the fact that their lives at that moment depended entirely on two Marines standing their ground. If they had been aware, they would have know they were safe … because two Marines stood between them and a crazed suicide bomber.
The recording shows the truck careening to a stop immediately in front of the two Marines. In all of the instantaneous violence Yale and Haerter never hesitated. By all reports and by the recording, they never stepped back. They never even started to step aside. They never even shifted their weight. With their feet spread shoulder width apart, they leaned into the danger, firing as fast as they could work their weapons. They had only one second left to live.
The truck explodes. The camera goes blank. Two young men go to their God.
Six seconds.
Not enough time to think about their families, their country, their flag, or about their lives or their deaths, but more than enough time for two very brave young men to do their duty … into eternity. That is the kind of people who are on watch all over the world tonight—for you.
Two years ago when I was the Commander of all U.S. and Iraqi forces, in fact, the 22nd of April 2008, two Marine infantry battalions, 1/9 “The Walking Dead,” and 2/8 were switching out in Ramadi. One battalion in the closing days of their deployment going home very soon, the other just starting its seven-month combat tour.
Two Marines, Corporal Jonathan Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, 22 and 20 years old respectively, one from each battalion, were assuming the watch together at the entrance gate of an outpost that contained a makeshift barracks housing 50 Marines.
The same broken down ramshackle building was also home to 100 Iraqi police, also my men and our allies in the fight against the terrorists in Ramadi, a city until recently the most dangerous city on earth and owned by Al Qaeda. Yale was a dirt poor mixed-race kid from Virginia with a wife and daughter, and a mother and sister who lived with him and he supported as well. He did this on a yearly salary of less than $23,000. Haerter, on the other hand, was a middle class white kid from Long Island.
They were from two completely different worlds. Had they not joined the Marines they would never have met each other, or understood that multiple America’s exist simultaneously depending on one’s race, education level, economic status, and where you might have been born. But they were Marines, combat Marines, forged in the same crucible of Marine training, and because of this bond they were brothers as close, or closer, than if they were born of the same woman.
The mission orders they received from the sergeant squad leader I am sure went something like: “Okay you two clowns, stand this post and let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass.” “You clear?” I am also sure Yale and Haerter then rolled their eyes and said in unison something like: “Yes Sergeant,” with just enough attitude that made the point without saying the words, “No kidding sweetheart, we know what we’re doing.” They then relieved two other Marines on watch and took up their post at the entry control point of Joint Security Station Nasser, in the Sophia section of Ramadi, al Anbar, Iraq.
A few minutes later a large blue truck turned down the alley way—perhaps 60-70 yards in length—and sped its way through the serpentine of concrete jersey walls. The truck stopped just short of where the two were posted and detonated, killing them both catastrophically. Twenty-four brick masonry houses were damaged or destroyed. A mosque 100 yards away collapsed. The truck’s engine came to rest two hundred yards away knocking most of a house down before it stopped.
Our explosive experts reckoned the blast was made of 2,000 pounds of explosives. Two died, and because these two young infantrymen didn’t have it in their DNA to run from danger, they saved 150 of their Iraqi and American brothers-in-arms.
When I read the situation report about the incident a few hours after it happened I called the regimental commander for details as something about this struck me as different. Marines dying or being seriously wounded is commonplace in combat. We expect Marines regardless of rank or MOS to stand their ground and do their duty, and even die in the process, if that is what the mission takes. But this just seemed different.
The regimental commander had just returned from the site and he agreed, but reported that there were no American witnesses to the event—just Iraqi police. I figured if there was any chance of finding out what actually happened and then to decorate the two Marines to acknowledge their bravery, I’d have to do it as a combat award that requires two eye-witnesses and we figured the bureaucrats back in Washington would never buy Iraqi statements. If it had any chance at all, it had to come under the signature of a general officer.
I traveled to Ramadi the next day and spoke individually to a half-dozen Iraqi police all of whom told the same story. The blue truck turned down into the alley and immediately sped up as it made its way through the serpentine. They all said, “We knew immediately what was going on as soon as the two Marines began firing.” The Iraqi police then related that some of them also fired, and then to a man, ran for safety just prior to the explosion.
All survived. Many were injured … some seriously. One of the Iraqis elaborated and with tears welling up said, “They’d run like any normal man would to save his life.”
What he didn’t know until then, he said, and what he learned that very instant, was that Marines are not normal. Choking past the emotion he said, “Sir, in the name of God no sane man would have stood there and done what they did.”
“No sane man.”
“They saved us all.”
What we didn’t know at the time, and only learned a couple of days later after I wrote a summary and submitted both Yale and Haerter for posthumous Navy Crosses, was that one of our security cameras, damaged initially in the blast, recorded some of the suicide attack. It happened exactly as the Iraqis had described it. It took exactly six seconds from when the truck entered the alley until it detonated.
You can watch the last six seconds of their young lives. Putting myself in their heads I supposed it took about a second for the two Marines to separately come to the same conclusion about what was going on once the truck came into their view at the far end of the alley. Exactly no time to talk it over, or call the sergeant to ask what they should do. Only enough time to take half an instant and think about what the sergeant told them to do only a few minutes before: “ … let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass.”
The two Marines had about five seconds left to live. It took maybe another two seconds for them to present their weapons, take aim, and open up. By this time the truck was half-way through the barriers and gaining speed the whole time. Here, the recording shows a number of Iraqi police, some of whom had fired their AKs, now scattering like the normal and rational men they were—some running right past the Marines. They had three seconds left to live.
For about two seconds more, the recording shows the Marines’ weapons firing non-stop…the truck’s windshield exploding into shards of glass as their rounds take it apart and tore in to the body of the son-of-a-bitch who is trying to get past them to kill their brothers—American and Iraqi—bedded down in the barracks totally unaware of the fact that their lives at that moment depended entirely on two Marines standing their ground. If they had been aware, they would have know they were safe … because two Marines stood between them and a crazed suicide bomber.
The recording shows the truck careening to a stop immediately in front of the two Marines. In all of the instantaneous violence Yale and Haerter never hesitated. By all reports and by the recording, they never stepped back. They never even started to step aside. They never even shifted their weight. With their feet spread shoulder width apart, they leaned into the danger, firing as fast as they could work their weapons. They had only one second left to live.
The truck explodes. The camera goes blank. Two young men go to their God.
Six seconds.
Not enough time to think about their families, their country, their flag, or about their lives or their deaths, but more than enough time for two very brave young men to do their duty … into eternity. That is the kind of people who are on watch all over the world tonight—for you.
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
Twins Officially Selling, Officially Done
The 2017 Minnesota Twins' season is over.
Entertaining as hell for much of this season, especially the start where the Twins held first place for a good, long time, it's now over. Jaime Garcia, a move designed to take them to the playoffs, was cast off after only one start. Now All-Star closer Brandon Kintzler has been shipped off to Washington.
Both were at the end of their contracts and were free agents next year. However, both were valuable players on a team suddenly bereft of them. Hence, the white flag gets hoisted and we look to 2018.
33 days until college football.
38 days until the NFL.
66 days until the NHL.
But who's counting?
Entertaining as hell for much of this season, especially the start where the Twins held first place for a good, long time, it's now over. Jaime Garcia, a move designed to take them to the playoffs, was cast off after only one start. Now All-Star closer Brandon Kintzler has been shipped off to Washington.
Both were at the end of their contracts and were free agents next year. However, both were valuable players on a team suddenly bereft of them. Hence, the white flag gets hoisted and we look to 2018.
33 days until college football.
38 days until the NFL.
66 days until the NHL.
But who's counting?
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