Interpret my dream

I had a dream again last night where I was playing soccer (*shudder*). Maybe some of you armchair Froods can tell me what this means:

I'm playing for the United States team in the World Cup Final against Mexico. The match is being held in a stadium on a barren plateau in Antarctica - so the field is snow and ice, not grass. In extra time, I score the winning goal despite the fact that I was at least 10 yards offside and I scored by throwing the ball into the net. As I celebrated with my American teammates on the frozen pitch, Skylab (remember that?) falls out of space and crashes intact (I guess it was unaffected by reentry) in the stadium - but nobody was hurt.

That's when I woke up.

Worth a few questions...

Picture via feministing.com.

This inspires a few questions for the Iowa Abstinence Mission (sorry, I couldn't find a link):

1) Why is it that these groups get the shittiest graphics hacks to design their billboards? Drive through Iowa sometime and you get the impression that some utterly horrible, yet politically plugged-in, designer is raking it in while many better artists go without work (I'm sure G might have a thought to share about this).

2) I know that Hip-Hop culture and vernacular have permeated America - but right through to rural Iowa? Imagine a farmer going down the side of a country road in his John Deere tractor hauling a bin of hog shit behind him trying to make sense of that billboard ("bllliinnnnggg??"). At that point, they might as well have written it in Klingon for all the good that's going to do.

3) So the message is not subtle: Don't fuck the john...ERRRR...man who loves you until you get paid...ERRRR...I mean get the "bling". Isn't there a better way to impart a rule to live by without it sounding like instructions from a pimp?

You've got questions?

decay

I don't keep the Halloween pumpkins on the porch until Thanksgiving because I'm a lazy slob. Not to say I'm not one.

I just think the decay process that happens this time of year can't be better demonstrated than by the pumpkins. I think it needs to be shown that what was once this...

becomes this...

if you give it enough time. If you're planning on coming over, don't worry - I've since scooped these up and they'll be finishing their decomposition in the compost bin.

Worst. Packer. Season. Ever.

I knew the call was coming - even though it was 11:30PM my time, even though it was 12:30AM his time. Two minutes after Paul Edinger (Paul Edinger!!) brought another victory for the Minnesota Vikings over The One True Faith, my phone chirped with a call from Joe from North Carolina (formerly Joe from New York, formerly Joe from Tikrit).

"Man, does your team suck!"

And so began about six minutes of abuse. So is the burden this year one has when they are a Packer fan and one of their best friends is the world's most obnoxious Viking fan. And that last part says a lot - there's some fierce competition.

Of course, I expected this as much as I deserved it. When the Arizona Cardinals defeated the Vikings in the miracle game of 2003 (which gave the NFC North to the Packers in a season the Vikings started 6-0), I left a two-minute voice mail message consisting of loud choking noises that shredded my vocal cords so much I couldn't speak for an hour. Last year, when the Packers won the NFC for the third straight time with a field goal by Longwell to beat the Vikings, I tried hounding Joe on Christmas Eve as he was spending time with his family a few days away from being deployed to Iraq. Like the year before, he didn't pick up the phone.

But, unlike for the Vikings who have never won any NFL championships, it is so unusual for us Packer fans to have to deal with a team that sucks as this year's team does. At 2-8, it's time to stick a fork in this season and here are some very easy steps to right this ship for next year:

1) Fire Mike Sherman.
2) Buy a gold watch for Brett Favre and start giving Aaron Rodgers some PT.
3) Offer head coaching job to Jim Bates.
4) Deliberately lose (or not, losing seems to come naturally to the Pack these days) all of the remaining games - yes, even if that means we'll have to put up with obnoxious Bear fan for a couple months.
5) Cheer on the Houston Texans, Baton Rouge/San Antonio Saints, New York Jets, and San Francisco 49'ers.
6) If Number 5 works, expect to start seeing me post positive things about Bush as we start anticipating victory with a revitalized offense.

Bonus: Check out this fan's site.

The "S" Word

After 33 years in Wisconsin, I've come to regard snow like most people regard death: It's an inevitability, but I'm always suprised that it gets here as quickly as it does.

It's not exactly "tracking snow" yet, but we'll probably have that before Thanksgiving. I didn't even have an opportunity to finish up the garden (I still had some leeks and herbs left there). I'm just happy I have the storm doors in and figure I'll be spending a bunch of time this weekend weatherizing the windows.

Joe Brought Home! For real!

The email I got this afternoon started, "Hi folks-
I thought you’d like to know that I am no longer in Iraq, and that I have no intention of ever returning."

Joe from Tikrit is no longer. Now, he's Joe from New York as he will spend the next few months assisting JAG in the United States v. Martinez trial.

The news that one of Spin City's favorite guys is back in the United States makes this the best Veterans Day in a long time.

And on that note, a happy Veterans Day and a heartfelt thanks to all who have and continue to serve our country.

WWWHHHHOOOOOSSSSHHHHH!!!!

Ok, so as you now know if you've been reading "Spin City" for a while (which makes you a "spinster" - just to let you know), we live on Madison's Northside about three blocks from the Dane County Regional Airport.

This means that the dozens of aircraft that come in and out of Madison fly pretty close and low by the house - be it a Saab 340 turboprop commuter, Cessna Citation II corporate jet, dirigible, McDonnell Douglas MD-80 airliner, or F-16 C/D fighter jet.

F-16? Fuck, yeah! The property values in this neighborhood might not be the highest in Madison, but we're one of most heavily-protected. The airport is also home to the 115th Fighter Wing of the Wisconsin Air National Guard (or, in acronym-laden militaryspeak, WANG). When the F16's fly over, it gets wall-shaking, window-rattling loud.

Not that I'm complaining about that: the airport and the WANG were here long before the Basfords. And it can be quite helpful. When I'm outside on a Sunday before a Packer home game, the sound of the F16s coming home alerts me that kickoff is about to happen. Yep, when they do the flyover at the National Anthem in Green Bay, those are my neighbors! And they haul ass back here so quickly they're probably in the hangar by the start of the game.

Normally, the F16s do a daily flight routine that I can almost set my clock to. However, they've been lately changing it up a bit and are doing their flights at different times. I'm pretty cool with it now - but the first few times were a bit rattling. Imagine getting the F16 shake you're expecting at 1:15PM at 8:00AM instead. Now imagine seeing me running to the TV going "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!!"

The New Recruits will fuck your shit up...

Trust me. I've seen it happen to stronger people than you.

My new favorite local band is The New Recruits. I've been going to their shows for a year and have recently got their new release AttilaSexShock.

The best time to catch this band is when they play the rare Friday happy hour slot at High Noon Saloon ("Worst Gomeroke Ever!"). Two-for-one $3 pints of Huber while Madison's most belligerent band plays is a recipe for disaster. I'm glad they space those out a few months in-between.

Anyway, where was I? AttilaSexShock is 31 minutes of loud, angry passion you don't get in much new rock releases anymore. That means the disk is about 8 minutes too long - but if you program it to not play tracks 4, 5, 7, 16 and 18, you'll get a great half-hour-plus of bile-affirming music. The most disappointing track is 16. Any song with a chorus of "Fuck off and die! Fuck off and die! You can all fuck off and die! (REPEAT)" should be a bit more inventive in its anger. Sadly, this is more of a lads-hooking-arms-in-the-pub-and-having-a-singsong type of tune.

But otherwise, nine songs are enough for the rest of us. So, if you want to wake up properly in the morning, have some music to drink alone with, or just piss off Whitey, AttilaSexShock is worth it. Buy it here.

The date circled on the calendar...

Saturday, November 5th. A date with destiny. A date with the Penn State Nittany Lions and Joseph Vincent Paterno. God, I fucking hate that guy.

(Welcome to Mike's Dark Side)

From throwing sideline tantrums like a hysterical child to shilling for right wingers to talking in the high, raspy Brooklyn accent, everything he does bugs the hell out of me.

So like a red-stater screaming down the Dixie Chicks, let me say "Shut up and coach, ya goober!" And try to do it with some dignity - you're in your nineties for chrissake.

And Penn State fan, stop trying to hype JoePa's accomplishments. If I started coaching when the Beatles were still around, I'd have a ton of wins too. This feud you have with Bobby Bowden fan is moronic.

And stop calling him JoePa. It makes him sound like a teletubby.