"We cannot forever hide the truth about ourselves, from ourselves." John McCain, US Senator
The Home Run Derby.
Big 3 basketball.
Skills competitions at All Star Games of various sports.
Can’t say I care for any of them, because they are offshoots of bigger sports. Though I admit women playing beach volleyball has appeal to me, maybe for the wrong reasons. There is a big tournament held every year over in the Lutz area north of Tampa, held by naked teams of six at a nudist colony. Never had the desire to see it.
Miniature golf has always interested me, but it’s rarely played on TV professionally these days, and when it is, it’s not for a lot of money.
Rhythmic gymnastics during the Olympics? Don’t get it.
I do enjoy seven on seven rugby as a variant to the two disciplines of rugby, Rugby League and Rugby Union.
The CFL is not really what I’d consider a complete offshoot of American football, as each game evolved differently from rugby.
I’ve seen 20/20 cricket and one day cricket before. Each beat test cricket that goes on for days.
Video gaming played competitively is an offshoot of itself. I imagine the games will keep changing.
Online poker used to be a thing here until the government intervened. I don’t see them disengaging that anytime soon.
I guess the big games get boring, so smaller big games will always be around.
They cut the lawns on Monday morning, perhaps other times during the week depending on whether or not it rains while they attempt to do the work.
If I’m home, someone will complain about the lawn crew adamantly in his own way. That being is my cat, Harry. He will jump up on my bed and sleep, or go under it if the lawn personnel are nearby.
In my observations with cats in my life, which wasn’t all that much before Harry came into it, cats simply don’t like noise. Yet it’s something to see a middle aged cat cower like an infant and display a sudden need for protection and attention.
I’m not going to say where I had lunch Thursday afternoon, but something I ate there gave me a bad case of diarrhea that I haven’t had in a few years.
Nothing worse than that feeling of having to go to bathroom, and having to sprint to it before things get really messy, if you catch my drift.
Sleeping the past few days was a bit difficult, because I’d go to bathroom, get in bed, hear my stomach rumble like a Florida thunderstorm, rush to the bathroom, and then the whole process repeats itself a half dozen times over. Grabbing a few winks was not a desirable option, because then you might miss a few procedural steps, if you get my drift.
The moral of the story? Always keep some Coca-Cola or some other soft drink handy. It does work wonders on an upset stomach. Oh, and a good supply of toilet paper doesn’t hurt either.
Might not hurt to stay away from undercooked egg rolls too.
This stop on the tour of radio airchecks takes us back to February of 1974 and the 100.7 FM frequency, which was then home to rock station WDAE-FM.
This song by Carl Douglas topped the US Billboard charts for two weeks in December of 1974. Oh ho ho ho…
I really haven’t been following the latest gossip with President Trump lately. It gets to a point where you go insane trying to keep up with it all, and I enjoy my sanity in tact.
Sadly, you get immune to the theatrics of Trump’s tweets and the media’s over reactions to them. I’m sure some people in the newspaper industry privately bitched when FDR held his fireside chats in the 1930’s and 1940’s on this new invention called radio. I can’t blame the President for declaring TV obsolete: someone else would have.
President Trump keeps insisting the Russian fiasco is a witch hunt, while the Democrats insist otherwise. The facts are evolving by the day, if not the hour, but the crux of the story hasn’t changed.
Something will have to give at some point ahead, we just don’t know what side prevails yet. Then we can talk about what happens to Trump’s presidency.
I’m sitting here behind the computer on a Tuesday morning coordinating a few things. On my left, I have ESPN on, and they have a Venus Williams match on from Wimbledon, against some Russian lady I don’t know who goes “Whoop!” every time she serves. As I typed this article, Williams won her match and moved into the semifinal round of the ladies tournament.
I’m old enough (46 years old on September 6th) to remember a time when Wimbledon wasn’t aired live in the United States at all, but tape delayed. This was done mainly for two reasons, one being that there was a five hour time difference between the eastern US and the UK. Secondly, ESPN didn’t start up until September of 1979, so if you wanted to see sports, you saw them when the networks wanted you to see them. Very few events were carried “live via satellite” from other parts of the world because it was a relatively new technology, and probably had a bit of a price tag to it in terms of cost.
The seven year old version of myself was probably expecting to see an array of cartoons on the Saturday morning of July 7th, 1979. Instead, my Dad told me that we’d be watching the men’s championship match of Wimbledon starting at 9:00 that morning on Channel 8, our NBC station here in Tampa Bay. Bjorn Borg, the reigning king of tennis from Sweden, outlasted Roscoe Tanner in five sets to take his fourth straight title that day.
I sure I asked my Dad why they were planning so early, and that he explained to me the whole thing about time zones, which probably lit a few cartoonized light bulbs in my head. Funny what you learn when you learn other things.