The weekend was shaping up to be a bad case of déjà vu. Or I should say more like a nightmare experience all around, but it ended up being just really tame. It was a holiday weekend here, so that meant it was extra long.
Thursday, also known as (American) Thanksgiving, was a bit a strange to begin with. Usually there is a fair number of family around but this year that seemed to be lacking. I spent most of the day pretending to know what I was talking about when it came to American Football. My mother joked with me and reminded me that I never was a big fan of the sport anyways.
I decided to ditch the family festivity and headed to the pub for a couple of drinks. SlainteLOSC had sent out a message earlier about being down there for the evening, so I decided to drop by and say hi. For as dead as the point looked, there were plenty of punters milling around the pub that evening. No one special, just completely random.
Friday I had a show so kept a low profile most of the day. I made a decision to buy a new bass, but I haven't felt like whipping out the card and actually paying for it. For those who care, 5 string - fretless.
Station had a mediocre show. We got our new singer up to speed, sort of burn or blaze. Our previous singer had caught the baby disease and his (wife) had him on lockdown. For a while, we had two singers which was an interesting dynamic.
There's another show coming up this Saturday, which is ScouseDrummer's birthday show. That should be pretty good, and the new singer should be fitting in much better now that the first jitters are out.
Mentioning Saturdays, this past one was a scare and a half for the boys in red and white. I don't really like this whole going 2-nil into the second half and letting the opposition take over the game. IF Villa had been a better squad then we'd be in some trouble.
I stayed around the pub for a bit, as Sheffield's parents were in town. I hadn't seen them since the wedding and they are great people. Sheffield and I had a bit of a clockwatch going on as well. His club was playing my lower division club, Bristol City. Vinnie had also stopped down and was streaming the Reading game.
It was a great reunion in some ways. Plus we did have a bit of entertainment by way of the MancScum game. The ManShitty game on the other hand, well, I guess shitty about explains it.
I took my leave after the games in order to get some much needed rest. It was becoming a much longer weekend without much sleep. Thank god I didn't try and deal with the shopping stupidity that affects this country. I can't believe what people will do for a 50 cent discount on shit they don't really need.
I'm too annoyed about it to rant at the moment. I'll just leave it.
OH Barça, how I adore you. Not only did one of your crews throw rocks at REAL Facist's motorbus but you did it on the field. BRILLIANT!
~LeChat
29 November 2010
25 November 2010
Sporting Braga Away (CL) - Thanksgiving Issue
...
I wasn't going to write anything but I figured that would be unfair, not only to myself but to the greater cosmos. I mean it's one thing for me to put in half ass performance, but I'm not getting paid for it. This is more of an intellectual exercise than anything else.
Dissatisfaction seems to be an appropriate word. The sky is not really blue. The sea is polluted by a floating island of garbage. Putin is asking for help to save the tigers. The poor tigers, over hunted and decimated.
Babies are being born. The lights still come on after the storm. The roads are quite nice. Scientist are curing the incurable.
Life goes on; Win, Loss, or Draw.
In the US it is Thanksgiving evening. A day/night to be thankful for the bounty that has been given to us. However, in the US there is also an overwhelming degree of self-entitlement in the form of stupidity and ignorance as well.
I'm sure it's happening in other places, but I can only speak of things I deal with on a daily basis. So in essence, thankful for what has been given, obtained and shared; annoyed by what stands in the way of progress and human empathy.
Win...Loss...Draw
~LeChat
I wasn't going to write anything but I figured that would be unfair, not only to myself but to the greater cosmos. I mean it's one thing for me to put in half ass performance, but I'm not getting paid for it. This is more of an intellectual exercise than anything else.
Dissatisfaction seems to be an appropriate word. The sky is not really blue. The sea is polluted by a floating island of garbage. Putin is asking for help to save the tigers. The poor tigers, over hunted and decimated.
Babies are being born. The lights still come on after the storm. The roads are quite nice. Scientist are curing the incurable.
Life goes on; Win, Loss, or Draw.
In the US it is Thanksgiving evening. A day/night to be thankful for the bounty that has been given to us. However, in the US there is also an overwhelming degree of self-entitlement in the form of stupidity and ignorance as well.
I'm sure it's happening in other places, but I can only speak of things I deal with on a daily basis. So in essence, thankful for what has been given, obtained and shared; annoyed by what stands in the way of progress and human empathy.
Win...Loss...Draw
~LeChat
22 November 2010
SP*RS at home
I'm just going to gloss over the reality of what actually happened and concentrate on positive things. I figure through positive thought good things will happen. When good things start happening then I can relax my positive thinking. Sort of like being 2-nil up.... OH wait... fuck.
Friday was good. I went and saw Brian Poshean or however you spell his name. I ran into the Librarian and T-Bone. It seemed like I hadn't seen T-Bone in quite a while but I know it had only been a few weeks. All and all a good comedy night.
Saturday morning, however, I should have just stayed in bed. The pub enjoyed quite a lively crew, even if I was half asleep and feeling the effects of the night before. I know at one time I had done a cartwheel across Howard Street. I distinctly remember that and running away from ScouseDrummer as he was trying to jump on me. I can't even remember why.
In essence, me and a rolled up hoodie found a comfortable spot to enjoy a nice easy Saturday morning. And like most things in my life, it started out well, shiny and bright. The sun rose in the east and the moon set in the west.
However the bane of my existence decided it would monkey-wrench my good feelings. If ten tons of bricks could come down and knock me in my head, I would call it the second half at Ashburton Grove on 20 November 2010. My own personal disaster.
I remember leaning over to GrumpyGooner at one point and making the statement of how those people had done this before. How the singular instance of stupidity residing in North London had come back from a 2-nil deficit and stole points.
I shouldn't just vent my anger, but in short, it ruined the rest of the weekend. I became physically sick and stayed in bed the rest of the day, dancing between sleep and mild annoyance. Thank the gods for Ken Burns Jazz streaming on Netflix.
The only consolation was a Chelski loss, which I had forecast before walking out the door at the pub. I guess not all is loss then.
QUICK non-football update, for those who care.
STATION, otherwise known as my band, will be playing Sidebar on 26-NOV-10 and 4-DEC-10, for those who care. 4-DEC-10 is ScouseDrummer's birthday show, so make it an effort and show for that one or both if you really like us.
And for sticking around, here's some video from the Barclay Show.
~LeChat
Friday was good. I went and saw Brian Poshean or however you spell his name. I ran into the Librarian and T-Bone. It seemed like I hadn't seen T-Bone in quite a while but I know it had only been a few weeks. All and all a good comedy night.
Saturday morning, however, I should have just stayed in bed. The pub enjoyed quite a lively crew, even if I was half asleep and feeling the effects of the night before. I know at one time I had done a cartwheel across Howard Street. I distinctly remember that and running away from ScouseDrummer as he was trying to jump on me. I can't even remember why.
In essence, me and a rolled up hoodie found a comfortable spot to enjoy a nice easy Saturday morning. And like most things in my life, it started out well, shiny and bright. The sun rose in the east and the moon set in the west.
However the bane of my existence decided it would monkey-wrench my good feelings. If ten tons of bricks could come down and knock me in my head, I would call it the second half at Ashburton Grove on 20 November 2010. My own personal disaster.
I remember leaning over to GrumpyGooner at one point and making the statement of how those people had done this before. How the singular instance of stupidity residing in North London had come back from a 2-nil deficit and stole points.
I shouldn't just vent my anger, but in short, it ruined the rest of the weekend. I became physically sick and stayed in bed the rest of the day, dancing between sleep and mild annoyance. Thank the gods for Ken Burns Jazz streaming on Netflix.
The only consolation was a Chelski loss, which I had forecast before walking out the door at the pub. I guess not all is loss then.
QUICK non-football update, for those who care.
STATION, otherwise known as my band, will be playing Sidebar on 26-NOV-10 and 4-DEC-10, for those who care. 4-DEC-10 is ScouseDrummer's birthday show, so make it an effort and show for that one or both if you really like us.
And for sticking around, here's some video from the Barclay Show.
~LeChat
15 November 2010
Wolves Away and Everton Away
It seems like I've been writing this blog forever and a day. There have been highs and there have been lows. The best part of it all is I keep giving. However, I've noticed I missed a couple of midweeks lately. I'm going to say it was fatigue. Things have just been piling up like a big old elephant after eating laxatives.
So what's the good. Two wins in the past 7 days. I can't complain about that. There's all this talk about having a fighting spirit. You lose it.. You gain it... at the end of the day it just matters about who is really up for it and who has fallen complacent.
It's a truism, when you are on top, it's easy to coast along until you have a challenger; Someone to push you to the final hurdle, someone to kick you while you're down and not just roll over and lay beside you. Without this challenge, what have you? A whole lot of nothing really, a bunch of patsys just nodding yes to everything you do, until you finally realise the new clothes are not really invisible and your jewels have been swinging in the bright sun all afternoon.
High dollar fashion does have it's risk with very little reward. Towards the end of last week we've seen the dismantling of those who might be giants by a swarm of minnows. In short, there be parity in the league. And no matter how much you sulk and complain, this is a good thing. It always has been, always will be.
I remember growing up and hearing the yabbing about this and that, OH Newcastle, OH Forest, OH LEEDS and now look where they sit. And in the case of Leeds, the bigger the star the quicker the fall.
I guess what I'm getting it is there is whole bunch of consistency with certain squads, many of them mid-table, while others fluctuate between leagues or yo-yo as they say. Those that tend to rise quickly, also tend to fall quickly. It's just a word of caution, nothing more, nothing less.
Football in itself, can be used a reflection upon real life. If you really think about it, well you can fit rectangles into square holes, if need be, but there are those days where everything is just going right. The incredible shot was stopped, the ball dished off to the backs, pumped into the mid-field that runs rampant down the wings, floating a perfect ball into the box that's latched onto and put pass an awestruck opposing number one.
I wish all days could be like that. The reality of it all is that it's more about the aforementioned fighting spirit. You have a bad week, lose the ball and the plot on numerous occasions. The press seems to be misprinting every word you say and John Terry and Ashley Cole just roasted your page 3 wife; the same one who gets the house in Nice and 25% of your future earnings in the pre-nup.
However, the game goes on. The ball is round. The game is 90 minutes.
Play to the whistle.
~LeChat
So what's the good. Two wins in the past 7 days. I can't complain about that. There's all this talk about having a fighting spirit. You lose it.. You gain it... at the end of the day it just matters about who is really up for it and who has fallen complacent.
It's a truism, when you are on top, it's easy to coast along until you have a challenger; Someone to push you to the final hurdle, someone to kick you while you're down and not just roll over and lay beside you. Without this challenge, what have you? A whole lot of nothing really, a bunch of patsys just nodding yes to everything you do, until you finally realise the new clothes are not really invisible and your jewels have been swinging in the bright sun all afternoon.
High dollar fashion does have it's risk with very little reward. Towards the end of last week we've seen the dismantling of those who might be giants by a swarm of minnows. In short, there be parity in the league. And no matter how much you sulk and complain, this is a good thing. It always has been, always will be.
I remember growing up and hearing the yabbing about this and that, OH Newcastle, OH Forest, OH LEEDS and now look where they sit. And in the case of Leeds, the bigger the star the quicker the fall.
I guess what I'm getting it is there is whole bunch of consistency with certain squads, many of them mid-table, while others fluctuate between leagues or yo-yo as they say. Those that tend to rise quickly, also tend to fall quickly. It's just a word of caution, nothing more, nothing less.
Football in itself, can be used a reflection upon real life. If you really think about it, well you can fit rectangles into square holes, if need be, but there are those days where everything is just going right. The incredible shot was stopped, the ball dished off to the backs, pumped into the mid-field that runs rampant down the wings, floating a perfect ball into the box that's latched onto and put pass an awestruck opposing number one.
I wish all days could be like that. The reality of it all is that it's more about the aforementioned fighting spirit. You have a bad week, lose the ball and the plot on numerous occasions. The press seems to be misprinting every word you say and John Terry and Ashley Cole just roasted your page 3 wife; the same one who gets the house in Nice and 25% of your future earnings in the pre-nup.
However, the game goes on. The ball is round. The game is 90 minutes.
Play to the whistle.
~LeChat
08 November 2010
Shaktar (CL) midweek and Newcastle at Home
What a pitiful display last week was. I am not even going to get into it. Midweek was the same old story. I was at work, unable to phone Wenger and get the right team on the pitch. Only if I truly had that power, however I don't think it would matter either way.
So let's flog the dead horse and call her November.
Saturday, I'll be honest. I completely checked out of the world. I had awoken about 5 AM to take my relatives to the airport. Must be nice to be retired and travel down to the Outer Banks or wherever, whenever you desire. I think they're all going on a cruise sometime soon as well.
Well, in order to keep my insanity, I just checked out. A few rounds of Football Manager on the good old computer, a big mug of Theraflu to make sure I wasn't coming down with something and some mid-day napping. Ah, how I love my siestas.
It became apparent on Sunday, that I missed some good football from the previous day. As I have said, it doesn't really matter. It's November!
Sunday was rather crisp in the morning with the overarching gloom hanging in the air. For some reason, I decided I would have a bit of hope this morning. I should start at the beginning when I woke up and forgot to switch my clock back. That should have been the first omen.
Then my drive down, while uneventful, was an exercise in patience. I really wonder where people learn how to drive. I mean, I by far am not the most rules aligned driver in the world but at least, or so I feel, I have an iota of common sense when behind the wheel.
Who knows maybe I don't but I do remember watching a driving instruction video with I believe Senna or someone of note about controlling your car. It had to do with imagining it as an extension of your body and such; that you should never make a sharp manoeuvre that it all should be a natural flow, from acceleration to braking to taking a curve. Makes sense to me, so why all the panicking? Why the slamming of brakes on the middle of an empty highway? WHY and why in hell all the distractions in the cockpit?
It is sort of like life. I know the footballers themselves go through a massive amount of distractions in their daily lives. Many of the distractions keep them from doing their jobs. And really that's what football is for them, a job. A job, that they may be passionate about, excessively trained for, but at the end of the day it's a job.
I know myself, I hate when people judge the quality of my job and never had worked a day in their life in my job. It's one thing if you have at least a notion of what I go through on a daily basis but most people don't and that's a plain fact.
So here we sit, November. The pear shaped queen of the Arsenal calendar. I can't fathom an idea of what is going on with the boys. I certainly wish I could. I certainly wish I had a direct line to Arsene and Rice.
I might bitch and moan about the lack of this or that. How complacency has reared it's ugly head early in the season. How the desire for a real cup should exceed all but at the end of the day I remain steadfast and loyal to my oddly shaped queen, cause she makes the best pumpkin pies.
I had planned on going into my loyalty rant. I really wanted to blast the splitters again but that is as futile as expecting a win at home during the first week in November or something else.. blah blah blah.
It's unnecessary and over done. There is a certain lack of loyalty amongst a certain group or groups of so called "soccer fans." AND Yes I did use that exact term for that exact reason. They're not football supporters. I don't believe the grand lot of them would shed blood for their club or take abuse when losing to a newly promoted yo yo club.
They can go fuck themselves just like the bad drivers on a Sunday morning. Don't expect anything from me; you've dug your own hole, go lay down in it.
~LeChat
So let's flog the dead horse and call her November.
Saturday, I'll be honest. I completely checked out of the world. I had awoken about 5 AM to take my relatives to the airport. Must be nice to be retired and travel down to the Outer Banks or wherever, whenever you desire. I think they're all going on a cruise sometime soon as well.
Well, in order to keep my insanity, I just checked out. A few rounds of Football Manager on the good old computer, a big mug of Theraflu to make sure I wasn't coming down with something and some mid-day napping. Ah, how I love my siestas.
It became apparent on Sunday, that I missed some good football from the previous day. As I have said, it doesn't really matter. It's November!
Sunday was rather crisp in the morning with the overarching gloom hanging in the air. For some reason, I decided I would have a bit of hope this morning. I should start at the beginning when I woke up and forgot to switch my clock back. That should have been the first omen.
Then my drive down, while uneventful, was an exercise in patience. I really wonder where people learn how to drive. I mean, I by far am not the most rules aligned driver in the world but at least, or so I feel, I have an iota of common sense when behind the wheel.
Who knows maybe I don't but I do remember watching a driving instruction video with I believe Senna or someone of note about controlling your car. It had to do with imagining it as an extension of your body and such; that you should never make a sharp manoeuvre that it all should be a natural flow, from acceleration to braking to taking a curve. Makes sense to me, so why all the panicking? Why the slamming of brakes on the middle of an empty highway? WHY and why in hell all the distractions in the cockpit?
It is sort of like life. I know the footballers themselves go through a massive amount of distractions in their daily lives. Many of the distractions keep them from doing their jobs. And really that's what football is for them, a job. A job, that they may be passionate about, excessively trained for, but at the end of the day it's a job.
I know myself, I hate when people judge the quality of my job and never had worked a day in their life in my job. It's one thing if you have at least a notion of what I go through on a daily basis but most people don't and that's a plain fact.
So here we sit, November. The pear shaped queen of the Arsenal calendar. I can't fathom an idea of what is going on with the boys. I certainly wish I could. I certainly wish I had a direct line to Arsene and Rice.
I might bitch and moan about the lack of this or that. How complacency has reared it's ugly head early in the season. How the desire for a real cup should exceed all but at the end of the day I remain steadfast and loyal to my oddly shaped queen, cause she makes the best pumpkin pies.
I had planned on going into my loyalty rant. I really wanted to blast the splitters again but that is as futile as expecting a win at home during the first week in November or something else.. blah blah blah.
It's unnecessary and over done. There is a certain lack of loyalty amongst a certain group or groups of so called "soccer fans." AND Yes I did use that exact term for that exact reason. They're not football supporters. I don't believe the grand lot of them would shed blood for their club or take abuse when losing to a newly promoted yo yo club.
They can go fuck themselves just like the bad drivers on a Sunday morning. Don't expect anything from me; you've dug your own hole, go lay down in it.
~LeChat
01 November 2010
Newcastle Away (Carling) and West Ham at Home
I am doing the double, as mid-week I had little to say. Mind you I did have healthy fear of Newcastle away but it was much ado about nothing. For once, I was able to catch the second half of a mid-week.
The night before was the annual awards ceremony for my work. We had a certain gentleman who was fired from NPR just days before speaking. Long story short, the boss said we could either come in late or leave early the next day. I prefer leaving early in general.
I made it home to catch the second half. Right good timing. At one point I sent littleblondiegooner a text, to which she replied with pure vitriol and venom. I don't know but I think being in Beverly Hills affected her somehow. Not my fault you're on the west coast. The text simply stated BENDTNER by the way.
Onward ho towards the Premiership.
Saturday was spent as many other Saturdays, with the exception of it being the day before Halloween. Which, by the way, is not the greatest of holidays for black cats as they tend to be tortured and killed around this time of year by true assholes.
ManShitty, Chelski and the Arsenal all had games on at the same time so it was a battle of wills for the main screen. ManCityhimself offered up for the Arsenal crowd, as he thought it would be the better game. I didn't really care and conceded since there were definitely going to be more of them than us. No Chelski had shown up at this point.
HalfArseDean popped in wearing an Incredibles costume. I didn't even recognize him at first as he had this big afro wig on his usually shaven head. The pub started to fill up slowly, mostly Arsenal and the rest of ManCity.
Right before kick off the Chelski boys rolled in with big grins and their usual jovial spirits. They stood about for a few minutes and found that their game had been relegated to the back. Mind, they were a bit crossed and decided to hump it upstairs.
I have to admit the ManShitty game was actually pretty enjoyable. It's going to be sad when they aren't in Europe. Um, nevermind, I lied as I won't be sad. Big team that one is, right. Right?!
Actually just got done reading an article about how they are becoming as much of a threat as MancScum. It's not that important of an article, so I'm not going to link it. Mentioning MancScum however reminds me of that Nani goal.
That goal has received almost as much attention as some others, which we won't be mentioning. Really it's not that big of a deal, is it?
Play to the whistle, the mantra that is drilled into as a 6 year old on a chilly rainy fall morning, wherever it is you were. PLAY TO THE WHISTLE!
One of the Guardian blogs quoted a Graham Poll Daily Mail column with this diddy.
Well no one really likes Graham Poll but he does make some sense here. You don't have to like him to agree with him.
It's like the conversation I was having with the Grue about German engineering and science in the early 20th century. While that end of the deal was pretty good, the engineering and technology bit; the shit that surrounded regarding the treatment of non-German peoples really screwed the whole pooch, inside out and backwards.
Seriously, good things from bad people, it really does happen that way sometimes. Not that Graham Poll is Hitler or anything like that, please don't get me wrong on that one. But there's an actual poll or was on Monday about whether the refs are biased for MancScum.
It wasn't an overwhelming majority who believed so but it was still a majority. A poll that has mysteriously disappeared, unlike Graham Poll.
Spooky, isn't it.
~LeChat
The night before was the annual awards ceremony for my work. We had a certain gentleman who was fired from NPR just days before speaking. Long story short, the boss said we could either come in late or leave early the next day. I prefer leaving early in general.
I made it home to catch the second half. Right good timing. At one point I sent littleblondiegooner a text, to which she replied with pure vitriol and venom. I don't know but I think being in Beverly Hills affected her somehow. Not my fault you're on the west coast. The text simply stated BENDTNER by the way.
Onward ho towards the Premiership.
Saturday was spent as many other Saturdays, with the exception of it being the day before Halloween. Which, by the way, is not the greatest of holidays for black cats as they tend to be tortured and killed around this time of year by true assholes.
ManShitty, Chelski and the Arsenal all had games on at the same time so it was a battle of wills for the main screen. ManCityhimself offered up for the Arsenal crowd, as he thought it would be the better game. I didn't really care and conceded since there were definitely going to be more of them than us. No Chelski had shown up at this point.
HalfArseDean popped in wearing an Incredibles costume. I didn't even recognize him at first as he had this big afro wig on his usually shaven head. The pub started to fill up slowly, mostly Arsenal and the rest of ManCity.
Right before kick off the Chelski boys rolled in with big grins and their usual jovial spirits. They stood about for a few minutes and found that their game had been relegated to the back. Mind, they were a bit crossed and decided to hump it upstairs.
I have to admit the ManShitty game was actually pretty enjoyable. It's going to be sad when they aren't in Europe. Um, nevermind, I lied as I won't be sad. Big team that one is, right. Right?!
Actually just got done reading an article about how they are becoming as much of a threat as MancScum. It's not that important of an article, so I'm not going to link it. Mentioning MancScum however reminds me of that Nani goal.
That goal has received almost as much attention as some others, which we won't be mentioning. Really it's not that big of a deal, is it?
Play to the whistle, the mantra that is drilled into as a 6 year old on a chilly rainy fall morning, wherever it is you were. PLAY TO THE WHISTLE!
One of the Guardian blogs quoted a Graham Poll Daily Mail column with this diddy.
Unusually this situation had two alternative endings, both right in law - let the goal stand or give a free-kick for the missed handball after consultation with Beck. Personally I would have done the latter. Of course that would have saved Gomes the embarrassment that his stupidity perhaps deserved.
Well no one really likes Graham Poll but he does make some sense here. You don't have to like him to agree with him.
It's like the conversation I was having with the Grue about German engineering and science in the early 20th century. While that end of the deal was pretty good, the engineering and technology bit; the shit that surrounded regarding the treatment of non-German peoples really screwed the whole pooch, inside out and backwards.
Seriously, good things from bad people, it really does happen that way sometimes. Not that Graham Poll is Hitler or anything like that, please don't get me wrong on that one. But there's an actual poll or was on Monday about whether the refs are biased for MancScum.
It wasn't an overwhelming majority who believed so but it was still a majority. A poll that has mysteriously disappeared, unlike Graham Poll.
Spooky, isn't it.
~LeChat
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