Like any college sports fan, I wear my Alma Mater's T-shirts, sweatshirts and caps displaying my team logo. I happen to be an Alumnus of West Virginia University living in Atlanta. We have an awesome club known as the Peach State WVU Alumni and we get together often to watch sporting events and share stories about our experiences in Morgantown. We raise money for the scholarship funds, and support our school like any other person that ever matriculated at (insert school here). To make a long story short, I am a fan. I have yet to see anybody here in our Alumni club in Atlanta without shoes.
This whole Rich Rodriguez vs. WVU has brought our school into the national spotlight. In fact, there is a poll at Rivals.com asking people to vote on who is more credible. Thankfully, WVU is way ahead in the polls and Rich Rod is now trying to smear the entire athletic department via his agent Mike Brown. Brown is using the Pittsburg Post-Gazette as his favorite watering hole and ESPN has a direct pipeline to the PPG.
This is like Alabama fans getting their news from the Auburn school newspaper. This is like Michigan readers getting their news from Columbus, Ohio. Do U of Florida fans get their scoop from the Tallahassee papers? I think not, but ESPN has fueled the debate via Pittsburg to unusually Yellow tactics and the media is a powerful weapon of mass destruction.
If you read the ESPN articles, the blogs, and the press in general, anybody from West Virginia is backwards, toothless, incestuous and obese. Granted there are people in WV that fit that bill, but so are many people from every state in the Union. Well, guess what! Not everybody, not even the majority of us should be labeled with such misinformation. I am from West Virginia and I have 28 teeth and 28 pairs of shoes. I have never slept with my sister, not even in a platonic way and I have never met anybody that has a satellite dish in their front yard. However, I do know some people that know some people that have a dish in their yard.
Back in my downloading days, I came across several "banned" cartoons. These caught attention when cable shows such as the Cartoon Network became popular. In an attempt to be "PC", they would not allow certain cartoons to be shown on their network. What were these "so called" cartoons and why were they banned?
Most of them were from Warner Brothers, you know, Bugs Bunny or Daffy Duck. Most of them were anti-war cartoons from the WWII days. Bugs Bunny called the Japanese all sorts of names. Daffy Duck dressed up as a Nazi Officer and so on. Popeye beat the shit out of Japs and Bugs put grenades inside of Good Humor ice cream bars and gave them to the Nips and monkey-faced soldiers. This is what our cartooners did before we became politically correct. They also got tossed once we became a victim to the liberal left and the ACLU.
Most notable (at least to me) were the banned cartoons that depicted hillbillies or black people of origin from Africa. These cartoons were funny, but I can almost understand why they were banned. There was one episode from Warner Brothers with Yosemite Sam riding down the Ole Mississip' on a sternwheeler (gambling) showing negroes working in the cotton field. Sam was a rootin', tootin' double holster gun totin' white guy that wanted things his way. Since Sam was only about three feet tall, Bugs Bunny alway found a way to set his "biscuits" on fire and it was funny. The cartoon was banned due to the negro spirituals that were sang in the background. Mind you though, this was not staged in West Virginia. The background was in Mississipi en route to New Orleans. Many Americans don't seem to realize that West Virginia became a state in 1863 during the Civil War. If anybody that skipped history class doesn't know that, then shame on them for their ignorance. It was actually a state called Virginia that housed the Capitol of the Confederate States. West Virginia sided with the Union, therefore, calling us a Southern state or a "slave" state is just retarded(I don't mean to offend, but it is way to get a point across) to say the least. Especially about the fact that Western Virginia is actually still in Virginia and West Virginia is a different state.
One of my favorite "banned" cartoons depicts two brothers in bib overalls and long beards. I'm assuming that Warner Brothers was trying to capitalize on the Hatfields vs. McCoys. Now this was a real story between Kentucky and West Virginia families. However, the cartoon was staged in the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas. These hillbillies were so dumb, they did not realize that Bugs Bunny had unplugged the juke box at the local saloon and did his own cadence of the latest square dance. He had those dumbass brothers pulling on each other's beards and beating the shit out of each other before the do-ci-do(s) were finished. It was fucking hilarious. I guess the Cartoon Network did not want to offend the good people of Appalachia that fought so hard to put down such a negative stereotype.
Then came the Beverly Hillbillies. I never saw Jethro trying to get in Ellie Mae's pants. Although Jed and Granny never stated where they were actually from, it was Aunt Pearl that made it clear that they were from Tennessee and not West Virginia. People that don't know better should be told that Appalachia is not restricted to the Mountain State alone. Except for the Rocky Mountains, this is quite a stretch of highly elevated land stretching far from the Ozarks, Smokeys and into the Adirondacks in New York and beyond. Although West Virginia is known as the Mountian State, the Appalachian Mountains cover about one third of the East.
Perhaps people in Michigan with their 7.5% unemployment, or the people in Ohio with their FarmAid, or people in California with their earthquakes and wildfires feel the need to put us down to in order to "better" themselves at our expense. People in Oklahoma or Georgia tend to dwell on the hillbilly thing, mainly after a resounding whooping. This is their only defense when talking about football games. However, that is the biggest problem. Instead of saying, "Holy shit, this team is good and they beat the ever loving shit out of us", they make references to Appalachia instead.
After that, there was the famous movie Deliverance. Most people that saw this movie can recall the Ned Beatty butt-fucking rape scene and relate toothless hillbillies to Appalachia, hence West Virginians. However, this movie was filmed on the Chattahoochee River. I live two miles from this river and I live in Georgia. The downes syndrome boy playing the banjo and the mountain man that was a homo was from Georgia, not West Virginia, so get over it and get your facts straight.
How about Mayberry? Andy and Opie did not live in West Virginia. They lived in North Carolina. The closest town to Mayberry is Mount Pilot (not a real town, but close to Pilot Mountain) . In real life, thats a long way away from West Virginia. (By the way, I always thought that Andy should have married the lady druggist instead of Helen Crump, the school teacher. I would have taught Miss Ellie how to "wink" like she had too much 'pepper' if she went to the ice cream social with me! But Andy made his choice and the show went color and changed it's name to RFD before it was totally cancelled. ...but I digress). My Mom had to explain to me what RFD meant. For those of you that don't have a Mom like mine, she explained that it means rural free delivery. My Mom is from North Carolina but spoke perfect West Virginian for several decades.
To wrap things up, I have had several people see me wearing a WVU ball cap and they ask me why I am wearing it. I tell them that I am an alumnus of the school and I am proud of my highly ranked Mountaineers. Some of them look bewildered and say things like, "Wow, I didn't know you were from West Virginia, in fact, I would have never guessed that you went to WVU". My automatic response is "Why Not?"
They say that I have lots of teeth and really nice shoes. I'm tall and skinny and blonde. I speak "so well" and know a thing or two about world issues. Those statements always remind me of Chris Rock joking about Colin Powell (he speaks so well, a jab at educated blacks such as Powell or Condie Rice). Yes, I am from West Virginia and I am no dumber and maybe smarter than you are. I don't have a satellite dish in my front yard and I can spell without the use of the idiot spellchecker. If you actually see a typo here, it is because the spellchecker is only for people that never met a Helen Crump or a parent that made you pay attention in school.
Steel workers are no better than coal miners, and miners are no better than auto workers. We are all cut from the same cloth. I'm sorry that some people think that hills in your front yard make you stupid, but they don't. It just makes it harder to cut the grass with a conventional lawn mower and thats all. I'm sure that Jesco would beg to differ, but I never sniffed kerosene when I was a boy and Prunytown was only for the white trash people that lived down near the river, and there is a correctional facility in every state of the Union too.
Not all West Virginians fit the stereotype we see so much nowadays. Some do, but most don't. I have found that most people on the internet (from wherever, especially Michigan nowadays) actually do need a spellchecker. I wish there was such a thing as a grammar or syntax checker as well, but there isn't. Forgive me if I made a mistake in spite of my rant, but remember, I am from West Virginia afterall. If that actually "suprises" you, then you can kiss my ass.
Anyways, Auburn pays us a visit soon. I can't wait to hear what ESPN has to say about that. I tend to remember what Fox and ESPN said about the powerful Oklahoma Sooners. They said the same thing about the Georgia Bulldogs two years ago. We, as Mountaineers, know that we deserve respect in spite of the press or stereotypes. I have no idea why America makes fun of West Virginia when you have people from Alafuckingbama shouting things like Weagle Weagle, War Damn Eagle......Kick em in the butt...... I say try looking in the mirror.....
I have no problem with my mirror. I am from West Virginia and I will never regret matriculating at WVU. If you know the secret handshake, I'll share some of my moonshine with you, because thats how we roll. Oh, and by the way, Jesco says Hello!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The Upside of the Internet
When I was a restaurant manager, I used to come home late at night. My wife was asleep, the streets were rolled up and I could either watch TV or surf the net. I chose to surf the net and stumbled upon some great sites. My brother's daughter turned me on to homestarrunner.com and I found coldbacon.com on my own. I bookmarked my favorites over the years and I will display some of my favorite items for your viewing pleasure:
From found.com, this guy found this note on his car, apparently his car looked just like Mario's car. Page me Later!
Out of all the email jokes I ever recieved, this one is the best to date:
Chili Contest
If you can read this whole story without tears of laughter running down your cheeks, then there's no hope for you!
Note: please take time to read this slowly. If you pay attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third judge is even better! For those of you who have lived in Texas, you know how true this is. They actually have a chili cook-off about the time the rodeo comes to town. It takes up a major portion of the parking lot at the Astrodome. The notes are from an inexperienced chili taster named Frank who was visiting Texas from the east coast.
Frank: "Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking for directions to the Budweiser truck when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy and besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted".
Here are the scorecards from the event.
Chili #1: Mike's Maniac Mobster Monster Chili
Judge #1 - A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge #2 -- Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge #3 -- (Frank) Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from our driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out, hope that's the worst one. These Texans are crazy.
Chili #2: Arthur's Afterburner Chili
Judge #1 - Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
Judge #2 -- Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
Judge #3 -- Keep this out of the reach of children. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.
Chili #3: Fred's Famous Burn Down the Barn Chili
Judge #1: -- Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick. Needs more beans.
Judge #2: -- A beanless chili, a bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge #3: -- Call the EPA. I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting shit-faced from all of the beer.
Chii #4: Bubba's Black Magic
Judge #1: -- Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge #2: -- Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
Judge #3: -- I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Is it possible to burn out tastebuds? Sally, the barmaid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. That 300 lb. bitch is starting to look HOT . . . just like this nuclear waste I'm eating! Is chili an aphrodisiac?
Chili #5: Linda's Legal Lip Remover
Judge #1: -- Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
Judge #2: -- Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
Judge #3: -- My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wnder if I'm burning my lips off. It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw those rednecks.
Chili #6: Vera's Very Vegetarian Variety
Judge #1: -- Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spices and peppers.
Judge #2: -- The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb.
Judge #3: -- My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. I shit myself when I farted and I'm worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that slut Sally. She must be kinkier than I thought. Can't feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my ass with a snow cone.
Chili #7: Susan's Screaming Sensation Chili
Judge #1: -- A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
Judge #2: -- Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. I should take note that I am worried about Judge #3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably
Judge #3: -- You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn't feel a thing. I've lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds ike it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered in chili, which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava-like shit to match my shirt. At least during the autopsy, they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing, it's too painful. Screw it; I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.
Chili #8: Tommy's Toe-Nail Curling Chili
Judge #1: -- The perfect ending, this is a nice blended chili. Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge #2: -- This final entry is a good balance chili. Neither mild or hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 passed out fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself Not sure if he'sgoing to make it. Poor dude, wonder how he'd have reacted to really hot chili.
Demotivational Posters
We have all seen those motivational posters on the walls, usually at work. They are always in a $5 frame and can be seen behind your bosses' desk. They have awesome landscapes like the 7th hole at Pebble Beach or something of the sort. The caption is so inspiring too. They make you want to go out and "be the best you can be".
However, if you are like me, they are nothing but a joke. We have one at work labeled "Challenge". It hangs in the closet where we keep the toilet paper. Thanks to the good people at http://diy.despair.com/motivator.php, you can make your own Demotivational Poster.
I borrowed this one from Jr. over at Just Add Brains.
However, if you are like me, they are nothing but a joke. We have one at work labeled "Challenge". It hangs in the closet where we keep the toilet paper. Thanks to the good people at http://diy.despair.com/motivator.php, you can make your own Demotivational Poster.
I borrowed this one from Jr. over at Just Add Brains.
I went and made one too:
Give it a try. If you think it is good, post it here at Southpaw Sugar.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Eulogy for a Friend
It dawned on me the other day that many future or potential readers may not know the story of Psycho Kitty. He was one of the most influential cats in my life to date, including the "Big Rhurford T. Kittencat, Jr".
If you didn't know Psyches or didn't have a chance to attend his wake, the transcript is below. Following the service, some of his favorite poetry was read aloud. RIP Gizmo "Psycho Kitty aka Psyches" Pearce - March 1998-December 2005.
***********************************************************
I want to thank all of you for attending the wake of our dearly departed friend, Psycho Kitty. Weep not, for Psyches would prefer a celebration of his life instead. Most of you did not know him like I did, so I will tell you about his life and the amazing things he did. He was born never knowing his father and his mother died shortly after his birth. As the Bolshevic Revolution reached it's apex in 1917, he was wisked away to an orphanage to avoid the bloody violence that fell upon Moscow. Malnourished and ignored, he dreamed of a better life.
There was a furious winter storm on the day he escaped from the hapless orphanage. He stowed away on a steamer headed for the New World. He ate mice and hid in the smallest nooks and crannies of the ship until he reached Ellis Island. He had no formal papers, so they detained him until he could prove worthy of entry into the USA. Fearing that his new life was no better than before, he escaped again and swam to freedom. He wound up in Manhattan and searched for work and a decent meal. He found odd jobs here and there for a pitance and usually slept in a dark alley. His life looked hopeless, but his spirit was strong. He honed his skills as a mouser and soon found steady work at the new factory in the Bronx.
Although Psyches was a young man, he rose quickly through the ranks. He went from sweeping floors to the accounting department in less than a year. He found problems with the bookkeeping that led to his promotion to assistant controller of the entire company. However, he longed for something more. He matriculated at Harvard in the early 1920's and became the first cat in his family to attend an Ivy League school. His dedication to higher education led him to recieve a Rhodes Scholarship. He thoroughly enjoyed his time spent at Oxford. He fancied staying in England and even spent a semester at Cambridge. However, he wanted to return to the US.
He returned home to a ticker tape parade and took his seat on Wall Street as an illustrious wizard of the stock market. Black Friday was extremely hard for most of his associates, but Psyches had an ace or two up his sleeve. Pysches left Wall Street with a suitcase full of money and a few ladycat friends. They settled in North Carolina and operated several speakeasy taverns. Prohibition was a profit making venture for him. Life was good and he was the cat's meow. He was sitting in the fabled catbird seat. While all of the liquor flowed freely from Canada at his clubs, the press had no idea about any of this. The University of North Carolina awarded him an honary doctorate and he sat (literally) on the Board of Directors of some up and coming corporations. The stipends and stock shares increased his portfolio even more.
When war was declared in 1941, Psyches was compelled to enlist in service to his newfound country. He entered the Army as an officer and was stationed overseas. Hidden on a farm in Northern Italy, he fooled the Germans in many ways. Not only did he send fake weather messages to the Nazi regime, he was soley responsible for killing over 100 birds carrying secret Axis messages. Psyches came home in 1945 as a decorated war veteran.
In the mid 50's, Pysches founded the NC State Veterinary School of Medicine. With a hefty donation from his own purse and the grants from others, his vision led to one of the best schools in the entire country for bovine and equestrian health sciences. He also took several trips to Africa to study the feline mysteries that still surround us today.
The turmoil of the sixties led to another of his visions. He realized that he would have to be the one that led a movement of epic proportion. He formed an organization now known as the NAACP ( National Association for the Advancement of Cat Professionals). He was the one that realized that many professional cats were being overlooked for jobs. He met with many cats that were overqualified for the work they endured. His organization put a stop to discrimination on a world wide level. Cats of varying skills were now being rewarded for their efforts. As a result, a cat food company used his likeness to endorse their cat food products. Although they called the spokesman "Morris", it was Psyches that did the pilot commercial. Now you know the rest of the story.
Skipping through the 70's and more modern times, Psyches was one of the leading campaign managers for Ronald Reagan. Not only was he a major part of the election as California's governorship, he also was victorious in the Presidential election of 1980. For his effort, Pysches sat on the Cabinet (literally) until 1988, when he retired to spend more time in his own Walden or Lake Wobegon. But he grew restless in his retirement. He yearned for the excitement of days gone by. He decided to adopt a family of his very own in 1998. I was the lucky recipient of his mentorship.
Psyches taught me how to think outside the box, inside the box and on top of the box. He taught me how to kill fish with one swipe into the aquarium. He taught me how to capture and torture birds that were evil and needed killing for the sake of society as a whole. He taught me how to hypnotize dogs into a blissfull slumber with a cold stare. He taught me the numerous delights of ham. He taught me many things. He laughed in the face of the Grim Reaper many times. As he aged, his retirement was apparent. He was strong and brave to the very end, but illness took him by suprise in just two weeks. Farewell my good friend. You will be missed and you will never be forgotten. I'll never forget the lessons you taught me during this journey we call life.
Before we go, here is some of Psyches most favorite poetry:
"For the study of majestic dignity, tinged on occasions with lofty disdain, interpreters of muscular expression would do well to seek out Psycho Kitty.
He walks the highway without haste or concern for his personal survival in the midst of tooting automobiles and charging dogs. When a strange dogs appears and mistakes Pyscho Kitty for an ordinary cat who may be chased for the sport of the thing, it is the custom of Psycho Kitty to slow his pace somewhat and stretch out in the path of the oncoming enemy, assuming the pose and the expression of the sphinx.
He is the graven image of repose and perfect muscular control. Only his slumbrous amber eyes burn unblinkingly, never leaving the enraged countenance of his enemy, who bears down upon him with exposed fangs and hackles erect. When the assault is too ferocious to be in good taste even among dogs, accompanied by hysterical yapping and snapping, Psycho Kitty has been known to yawn in the face of his assailant, quite deliberately and very politely, as a gentleman of good breeding might when bored by an excessive display of emotion.
Usually the dog mysteriously halts within a foot or so of those calm yellow eyes and describes a simi-circle within the range of those twin fires, filling the air with defiant taunts that gradually die away to foolish whimpering as he begins an undignified withdrawal, while Psycho Kitty winks solemnly and stares past his cowering foe into a mysterious space undesecrated by blustering dogs. "
...sampled from N. Margaret Campbell
...most people who condemn the cat for his apparent lack of devotion do so without giving a thought to what is required of them before they can qualify for it. A cat does not ask to be petted and treated indulgently. Indeed, to patronize a cat with superficial endearments is more likely to offend than gratify him.
A cat wants, first of all, to be understood. How can a cat respect a human being so senseless and inconsiderate as not to know when a door or window must be opened? Or when he wants to be intelligently admired or talked to?
Michael Joseph
...we have kinship with the cats. They are unhappy in the presence of dirt, bad smells, and corruption. Is it perhaps that we can see ourselves, condemned by misfortune to such a life where for sustenance we might have to nose through garbage pails and offal disposal? One is never so high that one cannot be brought low, and the stray produces for us a picture of the depths...
Paul Gallico
...As a companion puss is not without blemish. No one so thoroughly selfish as the cat can supply perfect companionship. For him the time, the place and the loved one have to be harmonized, and then, if he feels like it, he may condescend to honour you with his company. Yet the cat's attitude is clearly consistent. He does what pleases him. You may be sure when a cat sits purring contentedly on your knee that he is not doing it to please you. Realize this-and sooner or later all familiar with cats do realize it-and thus administer a salutary check to the vanity fostered in all of us by animal companions.
[/]
If you didn't know Psyches or didn't have a chance to attend his wake, the transcript is below. Following the service, some of his favorite poetry was read aloud. RIP Gizmo "Psycho Kitty aka Psyches" Pearce - March 1998-December 2005.
***********************************************************
I want to thank all of you for attending the wake of our dearly departed friend, Psycho Kitty. Weep not, for Psyches would prefer a celebration of his life instead. Most of you did not know him like I did, so I will tell you about his life and the amazing things he did. He was born never knowing his father and his mother died shortly after his birth. As the Bolshevic Revolution reached it's apex in 1917, he was wisked away to an orphanage to avoid the bloody violence that fell upon Moscow. Malnourished and ignored, he dreamed of a better life.
There was a furious winter storm on the day he escaped from the hapless orphanage. He stowed away on a steamer headed for the New World. He ate mice and hid in the smallest nooks and crannies of the ship until he reached Ellis Island. He had no formal papers, so they detained him until he could prove worthy of entry into the USA. Fearing that his new life was no better than before, he escaped again and swam to freedom. He wound up in Manhattan and searched for work and a decent meal. He found odd jobs here and there for a pitance and usually slept in a dark alley. His life looked hopeless, but his spirit was strong. He honed his skills as a mouser and soon found steady work at the new factory in the Bronx.
Although Psyches was a young man, he rose quickly through the ranks. He went from sweeping floors to the accounting department in less than a year. He found problems with the bookkeeping that led to his promotion to assistant controller of the entire company. However, he longed for something more. He matriculated at Harvard in the early 1920's and became the first cat in his family to attend an Ivy League school. His dedication to higher education led him to recieve a Rhodes Scholarship. He thoroughly enjoyed his time spent at Oxford. He fancied staying in England and even spent a semester at Cambridge. However, he wanted to return to the US.
He returned home to a ticker tape parade and took his seat on Wall Street as an illustrious wizard of the stock market. Black Friday was extremely hard for most of his associates, but Psyches had an ace or two up his sleeve. Pysches left Wall Street with a suitcase full of money and a few ladycat friends. They settled in North Carolina and operated several speakeasy taverns. Prohibition was a profit making venture for him. Life was good and he was the cat's meow. He was sitting in the fabled catbird seat. While all of the liquor flowed freely from Canada at his clubs, the press had no idea about any of this. The University of North Carolina awarded him an honary doctorate and he sat (literally) on the Board of Directors of some up and coming corporations. The stipends and stock shares increased his portfolio even more.
When war was declared in 1941, Psyches was compelled to enlist in service to his newfound country. He entered the Army as an officer and was stationed overseas. Hidden on a farm in Northern Italy, he fooled the Germans in many ways. Not only did he send fake weather messages to the Nazi regime, he was soley responsible for killing over 100 birds carrying secret Axis messages. Psyches came home in 1945 as a decorated war veteran.
In the mid 50's, Pysches founded the NC State Veterinary School of Medicine. With a hefty donation from his own purse and the grants from others, his vision led to one of the best schools in the entire country for bovine and equestrian health sciences. He also took several trips to Africa to study the feline mysteries that still surround us today.
The turmoil of the sixties led to another of his visions. He realized that he would have to be the one that led a movement of epic proportion. He formed an organization now known as the NAACP ( National Association for the Advancement of Cat Professionals). He was the one that realized that many professional cats were being overlooked for jobs. He met with many cats that were overqualified for the work they endured. His organization put a stop to discrimination on a world wide level. Cats of varying skills were now being rewarded for their efforts. As a result, a cat food company used his likeness to endorse their cat food products. Although they called the spokesman "Morris", it was Psyches that did the pilot commercial. Now you know the rest of the story.
Skipping through the 70's and more modern times, Psyches was one of the leading campaign managers for Ronald Reagan. Not only was he a major part of the election as California's governorship, he also was victorious in the Presidential election of 1980. For his effort, Pysches sat on the Cabinet (literally) until 1988, when he retired to spend more time in his own Walden or Lake Wobegon. But he grew restless in his retirement. He yearned for the excitement of days gone by. He decided to adopt a family of his very own in 1998. I was the lucky recipient of his mentorship.
Psyches taught me how to think outside the box, inside the box and on top of the box. He taught me how to kill fish with one swipe into the aquarium. He taught me how to capture and torture birds that were evil and needed killing for the sake of society as a whole. He taught me how to hypnotize dogs into a blissfull slumber with a cold stare. He taught me the numerous delights of ham. He taught me many things. He laughed in the face of the Grim Reaper many times. As he aged, his retirement was apparent. He was strong and brave to the very end, but illness took him by suprise in just two weeks. Farewell my good friend. You will be missed and you will never be forgotten. I'll never forget the lessons you taught me during this journey we call life.
Before we go, here is some of Psyches most favorite poetry:
"For the study of majestic dignity, tinged on occasions with lofty disdain, interpreters of muscular expression would do well to seek out Psycho Kitty.
He walks the highway without haste or concern for his personal survival in the midst of tooting automobiles and charging dogs. When a strange dogs appears and mistakes Pyscho Kitty for an ordinary cat who may be chased for the sport of the thing, it is the custom of Psycho Kitty to slow his pace somewhat and stretch out in the path of the oncoming enemy, assuming the pose and the expression of the sphinx.
He is the graven image of repose and perfect muscular control. Only his slumbrous amber eyes burn unblinkingly, never leaving the enraged countenance of his enemy, who bears down upon him with exposed fangs and hackles erect. When the assault is too ferocious to be in good taste even among dogs, accompanied by hysterical yapping and snapping, Psycho Kitty has been known to yawn in the face of his assailant, quite deliberately and very politely, as a gentleman of good breeding might when bored by an excessive display of emotion.
Usually the dog mysteriously halts within a foot or so of those calm yellow eyes and describes a simi-circle within the range of those twin fires, filling the air with defiant taunts that gradually die away to foolish whimpering as he begins an undignified withdrawal, while Psycho Kitty winks solemnly and stares past his cowering foe into a mysterious space undesecrated by blustering dogs. "
...sampled from N. Margaret Campbell
...most people who condemn the cat for his apparent lack of devotion do so without giving a thought to what is required of them before they can qualify for it. A cat does not ask to be petted and treated indulgently. Indeed, to patronize a cat with superficial endearments is more likely to offend than gratify him.
A cat wants, first of all, to be understood. How can a cat respect a human being so senseless and inconsiderate as not to know when a door or window must be opened? Or when he wants to be intelligently admired or talked to?
Michael Joseph
...we have kinship with the cats. They are unhappy in the presence of dirt, bad smells, and corruption. Is it perhaps that we can see ourselves, condemned by misfortune to such a life where for sustenance we might have to nose through garbage pails and offal disposal? One is never so high that one cannot be brought low, and the stray produces for us a picture of the depths...
Paul Gallico
...As a companion puss is not without blemish. No one so thoroughly selfish as the cat can supply perfect companionship. For him the time, the place and the loved one have to be harmonized, and then, if he feels like it, he may condescend to honour you with his company. Yet the cat's attitude is clearly consistent. He does what pleases him. You may be sure when a cat sits purring contentedly on your knee that he is not doing it to please you. Realize this-and sooner or later all familiar with cats do realize it-and thus administer a salutary check to the vanity fostered in all of us by animal companions.
[/]
Boycott ESPN?
As one of the only 24/7 sports news companies on the airwaves, ESPN has a near monopoly on modern day sports coverage as we know it. However, many of their written articles on their website reek of muckraking and Yellow Journalism. Several articles from Forde, Mandel and Ivan "maizenblue" are highly critical of West Virginia University as a whole, including innocent bystanders that happen to live in or formerly lived in the state.
If ESPN had it's way, the whole state of West Virginia should not only be considered backwards, toothless and uneducated, they would paint us all as nothing but racists.
We all know (by now) the Rich Rod timeline and the facts as provided by the Freedom of Information Act. Cell phone records prove that Rod was calling on recruits for UM while still employed by WVU. ETC....ad nauseum.....
However, when interim Coach Stewart helped coach WVU to a whooping of the Sooners, he was named head coach. Before the dust had settled, ESPN released a ten year old story about Stewart being a racist. Coach admits using the N word, but the context was almost completely left out of the story. Thus, many readers did not realize his intentions of his statements. Instead, he was let go at VMI. I hadn't heard a thing about this story while Stewart was a Nehlen asst. at all. In fact, I never heard about it while he was a Rod asst. either. Not until he had a great game and a job offer did ESPN choose to run this story? Why?
ESPN now has comments forums available after most articles. Any yahoo can sign up and start posting about their opinions. These have become very popular with some articles reaching over 16,000 posts. I too, signed up so I could read what others have to say or make a statement myself. I read many comments about stories I have read at ESPN. Well, that stopped today. While I continue to read the articles, I will not discuss them with anybody except by phone or face to face. Why today?
The latest on the Rich Rod/WVU scandal is another racial accusation made by the agent for Rich Rod and Calvin Magee. Once again, it is the Pittsburg newspaper citing the anonymous sources. Rich Rod interviews with the Toledo Blade? Do what now? Why doesn't ESPN get it's Michigan news from the papers in Columbus, Ohio?
Agent Mike Brown basically makes the writer believe that somebody in the WVU administration actually told Calvin Magee that he would never be a head coach here because of his skin color (pointing to his black skinned arm). Ivan Maisel writes this without any other source except from the statement by Agent Brown. This is shoddy and Yellow to say the least. How many WVU football games were on ESPN last season? If you include ESPNU Gameplan, then all of them were on. All of them.
If you dare to go into the comments forum, you will read some brilliant posts. However, the majority of them are spouting trolls. Comments recently seen from some of the less gifted include, "Why don't you go and sleep with your sister in your trailer after you get your welfare check?" It would only be funny (for about the 200th time I ever heard it) if Eric Cartman was saying it.
If ESPN is the publisher that fans the flames, they should be held accountable as well. These articles are extremely biased against the new coach and the entire WVU administration. I'll admit, things could have been handled a little better, but ESPN wants you think that we are all racist hillbillies as a result.
My Momma would have called this type of journalism "Common and Shiftless"!
Good Luck to Steve Slaton. We will miss you! Sports Illustrated was almost right, but ESPN, include Corso, Herbsteit and that idiot Holtz only said, "See, I told you so".
I can't stop watching ESPN during ACC basketball season, but I can yell at the TV and stomp around if I want to.
If ESPN had it's way, the whole state of West Virginia should not only be considered backwards, toothless and uneducated, they would paint us all as nothing but racists.
We all know (by now) the Rich Rod timeline and the facts as provided by the Freedom of Information Act. Cell phone records prove that Rod was calling on recruits for UM while still employed by WVU. ETC....ad nauseum.....
However, when interim Coach Stewart helped coach WVU to a whooping of the Sooners, he was named head coach. Before the dust had settled, ESPN released a ten year old story about Stewart being a racist. Coach admits using the N word, but the context was almost completely left out of the story. Thus, many readers did not realize his intentions of his statements. Instead, he was let go at VMI. I hadn't heard a thing about this story while Stewart was a Nehlen asst. at all. In fact, I never heard about it while he was a Rod asst. either. Not until he had a great game and a job offer did ESPN choose to run this story? Why?
ESPN now has comments forums available after most articles. Any yahoo can sign up and start posting about their opinions. These have become very popular with some articles reaching over 16,000 posts. I too, signed up so I could read what others have to say or make a statement myself. I read many comments about stories I have read at ESPN. Well, that stopped today. While I continue to read the articles, I will not discuss them with anybody except by phone or face to face. Why today?
The latest on the Rich Rod/WVU scandal is another racial accusation made by the agent for Rich Rod and Calvin Magee. Once again, it is the Pittsburg newspaper citing the anonymous sources. Rich Rod interviews with the Toledo Blade? Do what now? Why doesn't ESPN get it's Michigan news from the papers in Columbus, Ohio?
Agent Mike Brown basically makes the writer believe that somebody in the WVU administration actually told Calvin Magee that he would never be a head coach here because of his skin color (pointing to his black skinned arm). Ivan Maisel writes this without any other source except from the statement by Agent Brown. This is shoddy and Yellow to say the least. How many WVU football games were on ESPN last season? If you include ESPNU Gameplan, then all of them were on. All of them.
If you dare to go into the comments forum, you will read some brilliant posts. However, the majority of them are spouting trolls. Comments recently seen from some of the less gifted include, "Why don't you go and sleep with your sister in your trailer after you get your welfare check?" It would only be funny (for about the 200th time I ever heard it) if Eric Cartman was saying it.
If ESPN is the publisher that fans the flames, they should be held accountable as well. These articles are extremely biased against the new coach and the entire WVU administration. I'll admit, things could have been handled a little better, but ESPN wants you think that we are all racist hillbillies as a result.
My Momma would have called this type of journalism "Common and Shiftless"!
Good Luck to Steve Slaton. We will miss you! Sports Illustrated was almost right, but ESPN, include Corso, Herbsteit and that idiot Holtz only said, "See, I told you so".
I can't stop watching ESPN during ACC basketball season, but I can yell at the TV and stomp around if I want to.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
That Light was Yellow a Minute Ago, I'm Sure
I thought about naming this rant "People on "Ludes" should not drive, Man!. Either way, these are both famous quotes from Jeff Spiccoli when he attended Ridgemont High School back in the 80's.
Atlanta traffic is always bad, but add some sleet and snow and you have 1,000 accidents waiting to happen. In regular weather, people are willing to throw caution to the wind and use their vehicle to almost die everyday. I do my best to avoid them, but I am one of those guys that uses my horn often and flip the bird to people that truely deserve it. I feel that this gives me a pinch of satisfaction that I let them know that I do not want to die today, so please don't do that again.
Add about a 1/4 inch of snow and all Hell breaks loose. Get that bread and milk before its gone. Get that booze, diapers, bottled water and propane too. Try and find some firewood if you can.
If you are an asshole, drive through the snow with your SUV and wreck into somebody else, all because you are an asshole. Tailgate people like you never have before. Go really fast through the yellow/red light with ice under your tire. Get mad at the car in front of you for slowing down and just ram into the back of them at the stop sign. Get yourself killed and block traffic for hours just because you can.
If you can't drive slower during sleet storms, then please just stay home. Its funny to watch you wreck on the bridges, but not funny if you run into me. Leave the Superman suit at home and be careful or don't leave the house. An SUV is not a free hall pass to normalcy in the snow. You too need to watch out for people like you.
Atlanta traffic is always bad, but add some sleet and snow and you have 1,000 accidents waiting to happen. In regular weather, people are willing to throw caution to the wind and use their vehicle to almost die everyday. I do my best to avoid them, but I am one of those guys that uses my horn often and flip the bird to people that truely deserve it. I feel that this gives me a pinch of satisfaction that I let them know that I do not want to die today, so please don't do that again.
Add about a 1/4 inch of snow and all Hell breaks loose. Get that bread and milk before its gone. Get that booze, diapers, bottled water and propane too. Try and find some firewood if you can.
If you are an asshole, drive through the snow with your SUV and wreck into somebody else, all because you are an asshole. Tailgate people like you never have before. Go really fast through the yellow/red light with ice under your tire. Get mad at the car in front of you for slowing down and just ram into the back of them at the stop sign. Get yourself killed and block traffic for hours just because you can.
If you can't drive slower during sleet storms, then please just stay home. Its funny to watch you wreck on the bridges, but not funny if you run into me. Leave the Superman suit at home and be careful or don't leave the house. An SUV is not a free hall pass to normalcy in the snow. You too need to watch out for people like you.
Welcome to the Show
Welcome to the Grand Illusion
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Its the Southpaw Sugar show
Starring Southpaw and Sugar
Stay tuned for rants and raves
Pictures, commentary and famous guest stars
The sign says "long haired freaky people" need not apply
But that doesn't apply here
However, Hillary Clinton and Michael Bolton fans "need not apply"
......
Come on in and see whats happnin'
Pay the price, get your ticket for the show...
Its the Southpaw Sugar show
Starring Southpaw and Sugar
Stay tuned for rants and raves
Pictures, commentary and famous guest stars
The sign says "long haired freaky people" need not apply
But that doesn't apply here
However, Hillary Clinton and Michael Bolton fans "need not apply"
......
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