Yesterday there was an opinion column in the sports section that (if you could get through the sarcasm) torched fans for being too forgiving when it comes to superstar football criminals. One of his points of contention was that a product like this should no longer be available.
I don't know, it's the dog's jersey. Has anyone asked him if he likes it?
So he basically goes on to say that as long as people are entertained and the business of football is still making money, everyone's willing to grant second chances. Personally, if I had to go to prison I'd probably ask everyone to keep their judgement to themselves, because as it turns out, a judge actually passed all the judgement needed.
I'm spread way too thin the way it is, so instead of getting wrapped around the axle with Vick, Favre, Plax or whoever, I'm going to try to just be the best fantasy coach I can be.
Never in history has there ever been a larger group of people assembled for the sake of music, love and grubbiness than there was in Bethel, NY in August of 1969. Little did these gathering crowds realize, there was to be a great plentitude of all of the above.
Woodstock was one of those moments in history that continues to be heavily romanticized, as if the paragon of human existence was achieved through soggy sleeping bags and copious amounts of drug use. To be part of a herd of 400,000 people just roaming the hillside doing as you please sounds kind of awesome to me at first, but when I imagine being at the center of that mass of shiftless hippies and then realizing I forgot to turn my oven off or something...holy moly. The scenario I choose to fantasize about is one where I bring truckloads of those chemlight necklaces back in time and reveal them at dusk, right when everyone is totally rolling on acid. The Who would play second fiddle as everyone's gaze is fixed upon my mystical wares. From then on whenever someone would mention Woodstock the next thing said would be, "Oh you mean when that guy had those glowing necklaces?"
Even without the necklaces it would've been pretty awesome to take in some of those groovy tunes, even if some of the lyrics were unintelligible.
I don't know, it's the dog's jersey. Has anyone asked him if he likes it?
"Hey dad, I'm bored...and curious about what we're supposed to do for three days."
