Category Archives: Personal
My 44th year of existence ended three days after the LSU-Missouri football game in Columbia.
Now that I’ve seen LSU and Mizzou play since, the result—a 45-41 victory for the Tigers in Black—was not surprising in the least. The Bayou Bengals’ defense has struggled mightily, and Mizzou has shown enough on both sides of the ball to stay competitive in its first season under Eli Drinkwitz.
LSU was beyond dreadful in losing 48-11 at Auburn two weeks ago. It was Auburn’s largest margin against LSU since the series began over a century ago. The Bayou Bengals were supposed to host Alabama Saturday, but an outbreak of COVID-19 at LSU forced the game to be postponed.
Alabama was favored by 28 points just before the game went off the board at the sports books. This means the “sharps” think Alabama would have won by 31, since the home team gets three points for home field.
How the mighty have fallen. But that’s college football.
Mizzou is also idle this week. The Tigers were slated to host Georgia, but Columbia has been hit hard again by COVID. CoMo and Boone County have been hot spots in the Show-Me State, and it’s not hard to see why: large population, small geographical footprint, flagship university.
Texas A&M-Tennessee and Auburn-Mississippi State were also victims of COVID in the SEC, while Ohio State at Maryland was cancelled and will not be made up. Nothing surprises me anymore.
The first month of my 45th year has been quite crazy. An incident in the last 24 hours demonstrates why.
Last night at 23:15, I went to the garage, hoping to load some things into my car so I could leave early for Kansas City.
Much to my shock, the Buick was locked.
I never lock my car when I’m parked in the garage, but my mother locked it for some reason when she came home from the American Legion post last night.
I have two sets of keys, but I carry both sets. This is for hot weather, so I can dart inside somewhere and leave the A/C running. It also comes in handy when it’s bitterly cold, although I haven’t had to start the Buick on a day when the temperature was below minus-15 Celsius (10 Fahrenheit).
There was nothing I could do late last night (or in the first hour of this morning), so I tried to sleep as best I could—not well—before getting AAA on the horn to unlock the car.
I put in the service call through the app at 8:45.
Ten minutes later, my car was unlocked, but not because AAA arrived in record time.
My dad found a gray key to a GM vehicle in a desk drawer in the kitchen. I thought it was to my old Impala, but I figured it would not hurt to try.
Turn the key…OPEN! Phew.
The trouble with my Buick has been a recurring theme of the last month.
The “Service Engine Light” had been on constantly since mid-September, even though I thought I had it fixed then. Three other notices kept coming on “gas cap loose”, “engine oil low” and “low tire pressure”.
Before I could get any of that taken care of, I had another emergency with my grandfather’s old ride.
The latch to the trunk broke in the parking lot of the Schnucks in Lake St. Louis. What was stunning about this is I went to Dierberg’s in Wentzville less than an hour before that, and the trunk closed just fine.
Since it’s me, the latch would have to break while the trunk was stuffed. I somehow got everything inside the car then had to drive 30 minutes through St. Charles County with the trunk flapping before reaching Lou Fusz Buick on Page Avenue in Maryland Heights.
The latch was not available from GM, so I had to leave the Buick in St. Louis that weekend and drive a rental back to Russell. The rental was a Toyota Corolla, a fine car, but too small for yours truly. I hit my head every time I entered and exited, and could not use my seat cushion, since my scalp was butting up against the roof.
I made an intemperate remark while driving around St. Louis about how I felt people who drive small cars are clueless. I should have said people who can afford large cars yet drive small ones are clueless. Sometimes, a person can only afford a small one. Also, most Americans are not grossly overweight like me.
The good thing about the second trip to St. Louis was discovering Imo’s Pizza.
Imo’s Pizza has been a St. Louis institution since Lou Brock and Bob Gibson were starring for the baseball Cardinals. I can see why.
The pizza is served on a crispy cracker-style crust. Topping go all the way to the edge. And the slices are small enough to where intake is easily managed.
I devoured three Imo’s pizzas in the space of a week during my travels to St. Louis—two after the trunk latch broke, and a third to return the rental after the Buick was fixed.
I also had a lot of White Castle. Good stuff, but I may need a break. Lot of indigestion.
The next to last day of October was mostly spent at Cable Dahmer Buick. I waited seven and a half hours to see if the engine light and other warnings could be fixed.
After less than 500 km of driving, the service engine and loose gas cap warnings were back in full force. I made another trip to Kansas City last week. So far, the lights are staying off.
I also have discovered Springfield. More on that in another post.
I love you Caitlyn!
Today points out one of the biggest problems of being single.
I have been at the Buick dealership over SEVEN HOURS now. Since I don’t have a girlfriend/fiance/wife like most normal men over the age of 25, I have to wait it out. I could have called an Uber, but that would have cost a pretty penny.
It would have been at least $80 to make the round trip to my hair removal appointment at Shoal Creek. I figured I could wait until Monday.
Now this young boy is annoying the hell out of me being rambunctious like most young boys (certainly like I was at his age). I just put in my earplugs, but the sound of his plastic dolls hitting plastic is so loud it doesn’t filter it out.
I am going to go back to the hotel when this is done and collapse if I don’t cry first. This is another stark reminder of how much my life sucks and how much worse it will be when my parents die and I’m really alone.
I blew my chance at happiness when I screwed up with Renetta. Caitlyn is too young. Brenda and Peggy are married. No other women would be caught dead with me. I tried Match.com briefly again, but I’m not paying an exorbitant amount to get nothing out of it.
I bet the car will not be ready when the dealership closes at 18:00. What the hell will I do then?
If you want to laugh at me, please do. You need to laugh. I’m wretched and deserve it.
For the THIRD time in the last 43 days, I am sitting in Cable-Dahmer Buick/GMC. Service Engine Light has been on since last Friday. No problems, but that’s something that has to be checked out. Other things have popped up, including.irreperable damage to a sidewall of a tire, meaning it needs to be replaced.
Yesterday started well enough. Andy Gibb’s “An Everlasting Love” woke me up at precisely 05:30, the first time an alarm has worked for me in at least a month. Work done on time.
Then it got strange.
I drove to Brew Top in hopes of seeing Dana, but when I parked, I realized my Gateway Arch keychain was not in my pocket (I drove using the spare key). It wasn’t on the passenger seat or floorboards. Not in the trunk or my bag.
I immediately drove back to my hotel. This time, I’m staying at the new Springill Suites next to Interstate 435 across from Worlds of Fun, which is between the river and Liberty. It’s got a few more conveniences than Briarcliff—QuikTrip, Wendy’s, Burger King and Taco Bell are right down the street—but construction on I-435 south of the river is terrible, and there’s no freezer in the room, which I knew going in. The room is nicely sized, but I’m not able to freeze anything for the trip home. Not a big deal as long as.I remember to shop before leaving.
Keys were not on the ground in the parking lot. It finally dawned on me to check the cupholders.
Now it was too late to eat, because I had to go to Leawood for my monthly haircut and shave with Heather at The Gent’s Place.
Parking was a bitch. The city of Leawood closed all streets surrounding Park Place, the development where The Gent’s Place is located. I had to park in the garage, where nearly every non-reserved space faced the sun and was far away from the elevator and stairwell. I found a covered place on the fourth floor, but became disoriented trying to find my destination.
I said I would never go back to The Gent’s Place because of the streets, but I quickly backed off. They told me they didn’t know until the last minute, either. Good to see government still bungles royally during a pandemic.
Heather was great as usual. I won’t see her again until January because she’s going on maternity leave. She was barely showing. The only person who showed less that late into pregnancy was Courtney Cox Otto (Peggy’s daughter/Caitlyn’s sister, not Monica). At their suggestion, Camille will take care of me in October and November.
Heather has tattoos all over, and I would never consider getting one. Yet we get along wonderfully. In the past I may have recoiled, but now, it’s okay. Honestly, I have no problem with tattoos on women, but they really bother me on men. My dad got two tattoos in the Navy, and he calls it his second biggest regret behind smoking for over 30 years (he has now been smoke-free for 35 years; I’m convinced he would have died before Katrina had he not quit). My dad often wears long-sleeved shirts even in hot weather to cover up the tattoos. The one on his right forearm is not big, but it is faded badly; the one on his upper left arm is grotesque. I try not to look at it.
When I got done with Heather, I went to Cable-Dahmer hoping to squeeze my car service in, but they told me they ddin’t have enough mechanics, so I had to return this morning.
I went back to the hotel and wasn’t in the mood for anything. Other than picking up Zaxby’s for the second straight night, I stayed in my room.
On the third Thursday of September last year, I was in St. Louis watching Caitlyn and Ottawa play Missouri Baptist in volleyball. Now, I’m doing all I can not to think about all of it—Caitlyn, volleyball, Peggy, everyone else. Volleyball crossed my mind, though, since Brenda’s birthday was yesterday.
I can’t stay in Kansas City past Tuesday. I don’t have any more meds, other than insulin and the antidepressants I refilled Tuesday. My blood pressure has been running high. I’m worried.
The Chiefs play the Chargers Sunday in Los Angeles. I know what I won’t be watching.
Again, I’m sorry I went dark after my first full day in Kansas City. The trip to Kansas City was the only thing worth writing about in the last 30 days, so it was probably best I stayed off.
The rest of August was horrible for the most part. Boredom at home, a swollen right foot that required four visits to Dr Custer’s office (plus another next week), no trivia for the past three weeks (by choice) and constant reminders of just how much I suck at life.
Facebook and Instagram are used by too many people as cyberbullying sites. They are used by people who have great lives to beat up those of us who don’t. I get so sick and tired of seeing people scream “I’M MARRYING MY BEST FRIEND!”.
First, if your spouse is your best friend, you’ve got problems. It means you never have had good friends to begin with, or you’re giving up everyone else because your spouse is the only person who matters.
Second, I don’t care. You should post it only to certain people, not your entire friends list, and certainly not publicly, especially if you allow non-friends to view your posts.
Third, I don’t need to be reminded at 44 that I’m hopeless. I blew my one and only chance when I let Renetta get away. Certainly it won’t happen in these parts, where 44-year olds are grandparents, or at least have all their kids out the house.
The 101st season of the National Football League starts tonight when the Chiefs host the Texans.
I will not watch. I have to leave early tomorrow for an appointment in Hutchinson, and one of the teams makes me sicker than coronavirus ever could.
I cannot tell you how much I despise the Chiefs right now. I am sick of hearing about Patrick Mahomes every eight seconds. I get it. He won the 2018 NFL MVP. He led the Chiefs to victory in Super Bowl LIV (making the Chiefs NFL CHAMPIONS, not world champions). He signed a 10-year, $503 million contract. He got engaged to his squeeze who could appear in porn movies and make as much him.
Those are empirical facts.
However, I’m sick of hearing he’s already the greatest quarterback in Chiefs history and will be one of the four best, if not the best, by time he retires.
Yes, he’s probably one of the two greatest Chiefs quarterbacks with Len Dawson, which tells you how much the Chiefs stunk at quarterback from 1972 (Dawon’s last good year was ’71) through 2017. BIll Kenney, Joe Montana, Trent Green and Alex Smith were all good for a year or two, but a lot of others were just putrid.
To me, the greatest quarterbacks played before I was born: Sammy Baugh and Johnny Unitas. Baugh also played defense and punted. Unitas threw touchdown passes in 47 consecutive games in an era where defenders were allowed to push and grab receivers all over the field.
I’ll rank Montana as the best I watched. Four Super Bowls in nine years ends the argument.
The Chiefs hype train is non-stop. It’s a given they will be in Tampa for Super Bowl LV–provided the season gets there–against either Tampa Bay or Green Bay. Hopefully everyone is wrong and it’s the Saints (I’m not giving the Cardinals a shot no matter what the “experts” say) against anyone from the AFC but the Chiefs or Patriots.
I’m going to quit now. I promise my next post will be sooner, not later.
Even with the Big Ten and Pac-12 declaring life should not go back to normal, pushing back fall sports until at least the spring semester, if not to fall 2021, I’m trying to find normal in any way I can.
Normal for me in August is a few days in Kansas City and eating in a sit-down restaurant. That restaurant is Brewtop in Kansas City, North, where Dana Tenpenney, whom I met at Buffalo Wild Wings Zona Rosa seven years ago, works weekdays behind the bar.
This is the first time I’ve been in a sit-down restaurant with wait service since I ate at Old Chicago in Hays seven months ago. My last dine-in experience was with Peggy at McDonald’s in Russell in February.
Normal included a visit to Milan Laser to continue to eradicate the legacy of my late grandfather. I don’t get why my grandfather had bear hair, my father has next to none, yet my brother and I were bears. I hope my 4-year old nephew, Luke, doesn’t end up like his dad and uncle (at least before laser treatment).
Normal includes a visit tomorrow to the fancy men’s salon in Leawood, which, like Milan Laser, closed for almost three months at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic in spring. I’ve been cutting my own hair since the last time I visited The Gent’s Place, and fortunately for me, I can cut my own hair without it looking too terrible.
I’ll never forget swiping my mother’s sewing shears one evening in June 1987 and attempting to cut my own hair while watching a College World Series game between LSU and Arkansas.. I had longer hair—the short hair arrived on Memorial Day weekend 1989–and it was awful. My longtime barber in New Orleans, Roy LaCoste, almost died laughing at my foolishness.
Hopefully normal will be getting to see Robb and Larry, some of the people at Buffalo Wild Wings Shoal Creek (especially GM Rita Roberts, Tina, Nikki, Sherman and Ashley), and Lindsay and Bailey at Minsky’s Barry Road.
Maybe normal will include a side trip to Columbia for White Castle and Schnucks, but now that I’ve learned how to cook the frozen White Castle sliders properly, it’s not a higher priority. I did most of my grocery shopping last week after I had major repairs done to my car at Cable-Dahmer Buick.
Kansas City hopes normal will be the Chiefs kicking off on time vs. the Texans Sept. 10 in the NFL season opener.
Right now, normal must seem like another galaxy in Nebraska.
In case you don’t know by now, the Big Ten and Pac-12 opted to not play sports until at least January. The Pac-12 vote was supposedly unanimous, but Iowa and Nebraska vociferously protested in the Big Ten, wanting to play. The ACC, Big 12 and SEC are proceeding for now with reduced schedules, but most don’t think the season will be played to completion.
Nebraska’s administration and coach Scott Frost, who led the Cornhuskers to a share of the 1997 national championship in coach Tom Osborne’s last season, is attempting to go rogue and see if it can play elsewhere, including a return to the Big 12 for this year.
That probably can’t happen.
FIrst, the Big Ten would likely hold the threat of expulsion over Nebraska (and Iowa if it tried). Expulsion would mean a severe loss of revenue for at least a decade due to grant of rights the 14 Big Ten schools signed in its latest media contract.
In short, if a school departs the Big Ten, then the Big Ten, not the school, would receive all revenue generated by media for the length of the grant of rights, which in the Big Ten, runs into the 2030s
The ACC, Big 12 and Pac-12 also have them, leaving the SEC as the lone major conference without one. The last school to willingly leave the SEC was Tulane in 1966, so the SEC is justified in feeling secure in its membership. Any school which leaves the SEC, especially Vanderbilt and others at the low end of the revenue scale (Arkansas, Kentucky, Ole Miss, Mississippi State, Missouri, South Carolina) would be cutting off its nose despite its face.
Second, if Nebraska and/or Iowa was ousted from the Big Ten, those schools would likely be blackballed by the Big 12 from joining, lest the Big Ten threaten the Big 12 with cutting off all interconference competition during the regular season.
Third, Iowa State might block Iowa from joining the Big 12. I’m certain the rest of the Big 12, save TCU and West Virginia, harbors ill will towards Nebraska for jumping ship the same way Baylor hates A&M and Kansas hates Mizzou for joining the SEC.
Nebraska already lost this year’s College World Series due to the pandemic. Now not only is it losing Cornhusker football, but Nebraska is also losing its superpower volleyball team, which has sold out the 12,000-seat Bob Devaney Center, the former basketball facility, on a season ticket basis since moving there a few years ago.
Lincoln and Omaha are fine places to live, albeit with the same problems of every big city. Right now, it doesn’t seem like it.
June is normally a boring month in my life. High school sports are over until Labor Day weekend, so work slows down. The heat ratchets up, so I am loath to leave my basement. I have scheduled my visits with Dr. Jones and Dr. Custer to where they don’t fall in June.
The only thing breaking the June monotony has been an occasional road trip. Last year, that trip didn’t come until the very end of June and spilled into July. I recall it was terrible because most of the employees of Buffalo Wild Wings #0154 (Shoal Creek in northeast Kansas City/Liberty) took vacation, so nobody I knew was working.
This June, however, has been more boring than usual.
No work, thanks to COVID-19. Very few trips outside 1224 North Brooks, which right now isn’t so bad. No chance to spend money, and no dealing with the oppressive heat, which hit 39 Celsius (102 F) in Russell today and only figures to get worse in July and August.
Other than two visits with Crista and a few other trips to Hays for provisions, my only out of town trips were to Hutchinson on the 2nd and Salina on the 12th. I thought about a mid-month excursion, but decided against it.
Not much trivia. I’ve kept the Wednesday and Thursday night dates playing SIX. I’m playing right now since Brainbuster is on at 19:00.
I have not eaten in a restaurant since 17 February, when I met Peggy at the McDonald’s in Russell. I visited Old Chicago in Hays a couple of times in January, plus Minksy’s and Buffalo Wild Wings in Kansas City at the beginning of the year when my dad had to go to the KU Medical Center in KCK for surgery.
Eating out is not a big thing for right now. I’m not in the mood to go to the Old Chicago in Hays because I’m sure people I can’t stand will be there. Going in Salina will present the problem of having to choose between a very late return or fighting the blinding sunset. Also, I’ve stuffed my freezer to the point where it’s having trouble closing, so I’d better not let that go to waste.
I’ve watched The O.C. on what seems like an endless loop for the last three weeks. I’m sad Peter Gallagher no longer appears on Law & Order: SVU. He is the best reason to watch The O.C., the beauty of Kelly Rowan, Mischa Barton, Autumn Reeser and other ladies notwithstanding.
I’m also watching Monk again. I’m still in season one.
I’ve stopped watching Lifetime Movie Network. Besides, I don’t think there will be many, if any, new releases for the foreseeable future with studios shuttered for COVID-19. Many of the actors and actresses in those movies, as well as the studios, are Canadian, which will complicate matters since travel between Canada and the US is severely restricted, if not banned outright.
June boredom may not be the worst for me. Last Thursday (25 June) was the 16th anniversary of my first date with Renetta Rogers, the statuesque beauty whom I seriously thought was “THE ONE”. I can’t help but feel so helpless every time that anniversary comes and goes. I screwed that up so badly, and I deserve to be lonely. I am too stupid to realize it’s too late to find someone. I am going to die alone.
July will likely be more of the same. And August. And September. Heaven help me.
Today was supposed to be Opening Day for Major League Baseball. Tonight was supposed to be the Sweet 16 of the NCAA Division I men’s basketball tournament.
Unless you have totally shut out media the last two weeks, you know by now there will be no NCAA basketball tournaments for either gender at any level until at least 2021, and it’s likely the first pitch of the MLB season will not be thrown before Memorial Day, probably later.
Earlier today, it was announced the Indianapolis 500 will be postponed from 24 May to 23 August, the first time since 1945, the last year of World War II, that “The Brickyard” will not host the iconic race on Memorial Day weekend. Formula One already cancelled several Grand Prix races, including its most prestigious in Monaco, which is usually run the same day as the Indianapolis 500.
Tuesday was quite eventful, definitely not the norm with stay-at-home orders proliferating to try to “flatten the curve” against COVID-19.
I was supposed to see Crista at 13:00. As soon as I pulled into the Walmart parking lot to pick up an order, the phone rang. Since it was The Cars’ “You Might Think”, I knew it was Crista’s office.
She told me that I would not be going to the office to see her. Instead, we would video conference via Zoom. The setup was simple, but now I had to find a quiet place to hold the meeting. Going inside a restaurant was not an option, and besides, I wouldn’t want to attract unwanted attention. It was a nice day to go outside, but again, I didn’t want people to become concerned.
As I drove south on Vine, I got the idea to go to Sonic, pull into a stall, and sit in the Buick while conducting the session. I knew Sonic was operating as usual, and it would be easier to go there than most other places, since there was no inside seating and everything was brought to the car to begin with.
The idea worked like a charm. Got two burgers and a big drink, and I had my session with Crista and Alicia, one of the many students who sit in on sessions at High Plains Mental Health (with client consent, of course).
Crista and Alicia laughed at my Zoom backdrop: the Kentucky state (or is it commonwealth?) capitol. Obviously, the picture was from when I stopped in Frankfort three years ago on my way to Lexington. They did not know you could create your own background. I told them it was like the backgrounds used on CNN, ESPN and other outlets.
The session went well. I see her again April 15, and hopefully I’ll be able to go into the office. Actually, Zoom might work better, since I see Dr. Custer 20 minutes after my session with Crista will end.
I went into Dillon’s on Vine. No toilet paper, no hand sanitizer, no rubbing alcohol, very few paper towels (no Brawny or Bounty, only the cheap stuff), no Dixie Ultra paper plates. However, there was ONE package of Chinet plates. One hundred of them. I decided they would never go to waste. Also found bacon, which was not available last week.
Since I was able to drive this week, I ventured to Salina to pick up orders at Walmart and Dillons on Ohio. I also took time to get my car washed at a new location and pick up Chick-Fil-A, where mobile ordering is a snap. Too bad Popeye’s can’t get its mobile ordering straight.
Tuesday was the first day I drove since 17 February. I believe it is the longest I’ve gone without driving since I received my unrestricted license 28 May 1992. The previous long was 25 days in November and December 2004 when I almost died from pneumonia and a pneumothorax, and I spent two weeks in the hospital, the first in ICU.
The Dillons on Ohio had no rubbing alcohol, toilet paper, wipes or sanitizer, but there were Dixie Ultra plates. However, I bought two packs of the Kroger brand. I figure if I have to use two at a time, it will be okay. I also stocked up on Boar’s Head sopresseta, as I like to munch on it. I was tempted to buy some capicola and/or mortadella, but my refrigerator and freezer were going to be stuffed anyway.
Since CVS pharmacy was only six blocks north of Dillons, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop. It would allow me to kill time, since driving to Russell at that time would have a blinding sun in my face. I had trouble in Salina with the glare driving westbound.
There were a few packages of toilet paper at CVS, with a large sign reading “LIMIT ONE PER CUSTOMER”. I milled over buying a pack, but I said no, since I have 19 big rolls of Charmin downstairs in Russell. It was a good stop because I needed a certain item I forgot at Walgreens last week, and I needed to print a picture to mail to Crista.
Old Chicago in Salina was closed, as it should have been. Last Thursday, the company issued an e-mail stating it was closing every location, even for takeout.
Yet when I pulled into the parking lot at the Hays location Tuesday at 12:30, four people walked in. I also noticed last Saturday that two people played one of the Buzztime games which cannot be played through the app.
Last stop in Salina: Target. Plenty of hand soap. Again, I passed. No toilet paper, but there were Bounty paper towels and Dawn Platinum dish soap available, so I bought one of each. I also stocked up on more toilet bowl tablet cleaners, even though I purchased eight at Walmart. Those don’t go to waste, either, and I could afford to keep my toilet cleaner.
I didn’t need to buy any soap to begin with. I ordered three bottles from an online collaborative in northern California. I got it yesterday, along with two more boxes of facial tissues.I’ve got four full cannisters and three partial cannisters of hand wipes, and three bottles of household cleaner with bleach. Now I’m glad I kept buying incrementally during all those trips to Kansas City.
When will I return to Kansas City? See below for why it might be awhile.
I made Larry’s day yesterday.
He was attempting to play Buzztime Tuesday night when I got back to Russell, and he said he got kicked off the server at Minsky’s, and then at 54th Street Bar and Grill in Liberty.
Buzztime updated its app recently. I noticed Tuesday, since I played in Salina (don’t worry, only when I was in a parking lot) that it had been updated, because after each game, the national leaderboard came up like it does in bars.
Yesterday afternoon, a Buzztime e-mail said its app now could connect to establishments up 20 miles (32 kilometers) away instead of only 2 miles (3.6 km) previously.
That change doesn’t affect me. Russell is 27 miles (44 km) from Hays, so the closest I could connect would be the Gorham exit on I-70, or a mile or two east of that.
For Larry, it’s a godsend. Now he doesn’t have to leave his home, drive by Minsky’s to pick up the signal, and then hope the app doesn’t leave him high and dry, like I did until I discovered the Android emulator for my laptop and a GPS spoofer for my phone.
I played until 02:00 Wednesday and 01:00 this morning. I’m back at it now. Might as well try to keep my mind off of COVID-19.
Larry and the rest of the Kansas City metro is under a stay-at-home order until 23 April, as is the St. Louis area. Missouri did not have many cases at first, but it is mushrooming and has surpassed Kansas.
I told Larry that hopefully we’ll be playing trivia again at Minsky’s on the first Friday of August. I can hope for July, but maybe August is too optimistic. I also want to get to Kansas City and St. Louis to be able to shop at their wonderful grocery stores, as well as eat White Castle in either St. Louis or Columbia.
The Advocate’s banner shows the number of COVID-19 cases, deaths and people hospitalized in the Bayou State.
The numbers are alarming, disturbing , depressing and a bunch of other adjectives, none of them bright and sunny.
As I look at The Advocate’s home page, the numbers are 2,305 positive cases, 83 deaths, and 676 hospitalized.
Louisiana’s rate per capita is the highest in the nation. Yes, there are more cases in New York, California, Washington, Illinois and Florida, but Louisiana’s population is less than 5 million. That’s only two-thirds the size of New York City’s population (that’s just the five boroughs, not the entire metro), one-sixth of Florida’s population and one-eighth of California’s.
The number of cases in the city of New Orleans (Orleans Parish) is 997, with 46 deaths. Neighboring Jefferson Parish has 458 cases and 12 deaths, while St. Bernard Parish, where I lived and was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina, has 28 cases and one fatality. Fifty-one of the state’s 64 parishes have at least one positive case, and every metropolitan area has been hit.
NBC reported last night that “patient zero” may have come from a foreign country during Carnival, which ended with Mardi Gras on 25 February, and then it spread like wildfire.
There certainly isn’t social distancing during Carnival; if you get six CENTIMETERS between yourself and another person in the French Quarter, you’re fortunate. I never went to the Vieux Carre during Carnival, but the big parades (Endymion, Thoth, Bacchus, Rex) also had crowds bunched like sardines.
It’s not hard to figure out how quickly COVID-19 can spread in that environment, just like it has in New York City, San Francisco and Chicago.
Two of the city’s most famous residents, Saints coach Sean Payton and Archbishop Gregory Aymond, tested positive. Payton is recovering, and hopefully Aymond will.
Weekend number three without sports looms, but first another visit to Hays to get my wound treated. It’s looking a lot better than it did two months ago, when Dr. Custer first got a look at what was a grotesque chasm.
WARNING: I’m going to use some NSFW language. I’m sorry. However, some people deserve my complete scorn.
My brain is completely fried.
To wit: a Buzztime trivia question just listed five countries, and I had to pick the one which did NOT border Libya. The choices: Algeria, Chad, Tunisia, Egypt and Uganda. I mindlessly picked Tunisia, thinking it bordered only Algeria.
How stupid am I?
Uganda is MUCH farther south. I didn’t look at all the answers. I got Tunisia confused with Morocco, which is WEST of Algeria. I should have known Tunisia is wedged between Algeria and Libya along the Mediterranean.
Earlier tonight, I forgot Carmelo Anthony was still playing for Houston. I should have known he signed with Portland earlier this year.
The front page of Wikipedia lists four events which occurred on a given date.
One of the events listed Monday (January 6) was the attack on figure skater Nancy Kerrigan at the United States championships in 1994.
The first thing which came to mind: 1994 was mostly a horrible year.
I was forced to attend my high school graduation ceremony that May. I felt like a tool in the red cap and gown I was forced to wear by Brother Martin High. Graduation caps (more accurately mortarboards) and gowns should be one color: BLACK. Worse than the cap and gown was having to see over 200 people I didn’t want to see again.
I begged the administration to let me forgo the graduation ceremony and simply receive my diploma in the mail, or in person at the school. Nope. My parents wouldn’t let me fake illness, either.
I was angry as hell Brother Martin fired Rebecca Hale. If you’ve ready some of my previous posts, you know how much I admire Rebecca.
I learned of Rebecca’s termination three weeks before graduation. I should have stayed home to protest that, or worn something with her initials.
Graduation wasn’t nearly as bad as the asinine “Ring Mass” I was forced to attend at St. Louis Cathedral in August 1993. I am Catholic and I believe in God, but I do not like going to Mass. I hate the sounds of an organ, especially when played by a man. I especially hate the Mass in English. Too much freaking singing. I have never forgiven my parents for this.
Another thing…rings should only be given when you GRADUATE from high school. I never wore my Brother Martin ring in school.
I was upset when I didn’t go to my senior prom two weeks before graduation. Looking back, that was a very good thing. Now I’m overjoyed I didn’t.
As bad as getting out of high school was, worse was to come.
The first was O.J. Simpson murdering Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman in the late hours of June 12, followed by the infamous freeway chase led by Al Cowlings later that week. The son of a bitch was running, and that told me right then and there Orenthal James Simpson was the “real killer”. O.J. had better admit to it on his deathbed.
Two months after O.J. committed double murder, Major League Baseball players went on strike. The third major MLBPA strike since 1972 forced the cancellation of the last seven weeks of the regular season, as well as the entire postseason.
The 1994 MLB season was horrible anyway, with too many home runs and three divisions for the first time, but the strike made it even worse.
While the MLB strike raged on, I started college at LSU. I was living in a crappy dorm room on the east edge of campus near the law school and University High, the Laboratory school where LSU employees send their kids for free and LSU students majoring in education get their first teaching experience. My classes and the athletic department offices were on the complete opposite side of campus, and that was a pain in the butt. I rode a bicycle in order to avoid walking, and I thus became the biggest klutz to ride a bike on a college campus.
LSU’s football season was miserable. The Bayou Bengals suffered through their sixth losing season, leading to coach Curley Hallman’s firing with two games remaining. He was allowed to coach those two games, and wouldn’t you know, the Bayou Bengals beat Tulane and Arkansas to finish 4-7.
Gerry DiNardo was hired two weeks after the season ended. The next day, LSU associate athletic director Herb Vincent fired me from my student job in the sports information office. I cried a lot then, but it was the right decision. I was way too immature to hold a high-pressure job, or probably any job. My parents didn’t force me to find a summer job in high school. Good thing they didn’t, because it would have been disastrous.
The 1994 NFL season was crappy. There were the Cowboys, attempting to become the first team to win three consecutive Super Bowls under new coach Barry Switzer; the 49ers, who spent a crapload of money on free agents like Deion Sanders, Rickey Jackson and many others in an attempt to dethrone the Cowboys; and 26 other teams who were just there for show.
It was inevitable the Cowboys and 49ers would play for the NFC championship, which they did. When San Francisco prevailed 38-28, it was inevitable the 49ers would beat the living daylights out of the AFC champion. San Francisco did, mauling the Chargers 49-26 in a game which wasn’t that close.
One of the very few good things about 1994 was meeting some people who helped me along the way: Bill Franques, Dan Borne, Michael Bonnette and Kent Lowe. I met Herb in the summer of 1993. I also met Sam King, Scott Rabalais and Dave Moormann from The Advocate, who helped me become a freelancer with the newspaper a few years later. And I got to know LSU defensive coordinator Phil Bennett, who was much more gregarious and astute than his boss.
Geez, here I go again. I screwed up a question which asked the first rookie with 30 home runs and 40 stolen bases in a season in 2012. It was Mike Trout, but I didn’t think it was. I thought Trout was in MLB earlier than 2012. What the hell man?
I’m going to sign off before I say anything worse and/or make myself look more foolish.
My 2020 began with a strange dream.
I was at the Louisiana High School Athletic Association volleyball state tournament, watching St. Joseph’s Academy, the team once coached by my dear friend, Brenda LeBlanc. Brenda was coaching the Redstickers in a tournament match against Northshore, a familiar foe for SJA in the state tournament through the years.
Michele Ashmore (now LeBoeuf) was playing for the Redstickers, along with her younger sister, Kimberly. I saw their parents, Mickey and Donna, in the stands, but I don’t remember conversing with any other parents. I was busy trying to take pictures with three devices (iPad, iPhone and my Digital SLR).
I laid down my iPad and took pictures with my camera for awhile. Then I moved to another location inside the Pontchartrain Center, where the LHSAA has held the volleyball state tournament since 1995, except 2005, when the damage to the New Orleans area from Hurricane Katrina forced a relocation to Lafayette.
When I moved to the new location, I laid the camera down in a seat in the back row and used my Apple devices to take pictures. When I returned to the seat, my camera and bag were gone.
I immediately accused someone of stealing it, but security did not believe me. I kept arguing, but the security guards said shut up or we’ll have to eject you. I gave up and watched the rest of the match, which the Redstickers won.
After the match, I caught up with the Ashmore girls. Michele was telling me about receiving offers to play in college. I then told Michele about Ottawa University and that one of the most important people in my life was playing there.
This is officially weird.
Of course, Caitlyn was the dear friend playing at Ottawa. I told Michele I cared deeply about Caitlyn and it would do my heart good for them to be teammates.
Here’s the deal: Michele graduated from SJA in May 2005. Caitlyn was just winding up kindergarten in Norton. Your intrepid blogger was still in the Big Easy at that time.
I didn’t own a camera, a tablet or a smartphone in 2005. Talk about time warps.
I wanted to show Michele and Kimberly pictures of Caitlyn on my devices, but I couldn’t pull them up. Then they said they had to go to meet their parents and teammates, because they had to play again that night.
After leaving the Ashmores, I noticed someone had my camera, because I immediately recognized the bright green wrap on the handle. The person who had it wanted to make me pay to get it back. I said BS.
Then I woke up, thinking it was close to 1000. It was 0715.
When Michele played at SJA, the Redstickers won the state championship of Louisiana’s highest division every year. SJA compiled a 165-9 record over those four seasons, including a 43-0 campaign in 2002 when it lost one set in the last season of side-out only scoring. Michele was the Louisiana Player of the Year in 2004 and signed with Auburn. She played only one year at Auburn before giving up volleyball because she wanted to come home to be with her high school sweetheart, whom she later married.
Michele now coaches volleyball at Central High in Baton Rouge. I’m guessing she still plays quite a bit, because Mickey and Donna were still playing regularly in recreation games while Michele and Kimberly were at SJA.
The first day of 2020 while awake didn’t provide me much drama. There won’t be 365 more days like this, but I can DREAM.
The last 12 hours of my 43rd year got off to a sour start.
Following my fourth marathon day at Buffalo Wild Wings, I stopped at the QuikTrip in Riverside to fuel the Buick so I wouldn’t have to do it tomorrow.
When I arrived, I noticed a white GMC Yukon sitting in front of pump #4 with the pump in the tank. He was blocking one of the four non-ethanol pumps, and of course, I wanted non-ethanol.
After three or four minutes in the store, I pulled out of the lot in front of the store. Yet all the non-ethanol pumps were not available: the Yukon was still there, one was blocked by a guy fixing his car, another was blocked by a car not getting non-ethanol, and another was in use by someone actually buying non-ethanol.
I waited for three minutes for the Yukon. Nothing.
I finally had to go in and ask the clerks at the cash register to see if the Yukon owner was in the store. Sure enough he was. He told me he would move it. He looked pissed off.
First, it is absolutely RUDE to block a gas pump when you’re done. Move on.
Second, it is even more RUDE to block a pump which has non-ethanol or diesel. EVERY pump–20 of them in this case–has the three standard grades of 10% ethanol gas. And while it was busy, there were eight pumps open for the regular gas.
Third, why the hell do people leave their vehicle in front of the pump when they want to go shop in the store? That’s stupid. Why not pull the car to the front of the store so you don’t have as long to walk?
I am to the point where I might just have to take a trip to Tulsa and chew out the bigwigs at QuikTrip. No, I won’t make a special trip–although I could go for Whataburger–but I will send an angry letter. No cursing, no threats, but just my absolute disappointment at the lack of courtesy.
It was a great day at Buffalo Wild Wings. Robb and Theresa stopped by for an hour. Theresa brought me some of her homemade sausage to take back to Russell.
Yet I’m ready to get back to Russell. Got a lot of work to do between now and Wednesday at noon.
I left B-Dubs upset last night. I was hoping Peggy would stop in Kansas City on her way from Des Moines to Paola. She was in Iowa yesterday to watch Caitlyn play, and she was heading to Courtney and Andy’s home to stay before going to Wichita today for the Ottawa-Friends match. I asked her to consider stopping on her way down I-35, but I never heard from her.
When I left B-Dubs, I made a beeline straight for Overland Park and Cheesecake Factory. I got two slices of cheesecake (tiramisu and Godiva–delicious) and a strip steak. The steak was overcooked and thin, so that taught me a lesson–stick to Cheesecake. I would have been better off making a second stop at Outback on the other side of I-435. Oh well.
I felt very guilty that I didn’t go to Wichita and to Ottawa, where Caitlyn was a member of the homecoming court. I was much harder on myself than they were on me. St. Louis bought a lot of goodwill.
Georgia choked today. The third-ranked Bulldogs gagged to a mediocre South Carolina team 20-17 in double overtime in Athens.
I won’t go into how much I hate overtime in college and high school football. If you’ve read the blog you know my stance.
If anyone in the SEC was going to beat Georgia, South Carolina is the LAST team I wanted doing it.
Gamecocks coach Will Muschamp revealed himself as a gigantic douchebag last year when he vigorously defended then-Maryland coach D.J. Durkin, who helped kill Terrapins offensive tackle Jordan McNair with his gross negligence. Muschamp fired back at anyone who dared speak ill of Durkin and called those who did “soft”.
I never liked Muschamp when he coached Florida, although he dragged the Gators into the abyss, so that was good for LSU. The defense of Durkin sealed it.
Muschamp, Jimbo Fisher, Urban Meyer and Kirk Ferentz are four coaches I would never, EVER want any male relative of mine to play for. Nick Saban is a more complicated matter, one I don’t have time to delve into right now, considering its after 2300 and I want to be back in Russell in 12 hours.
LSU didn’t choke, although the Bayou Bengals had me way too nervous. They traded blows with Florida for three quarters before pulling away in the fourth to a 42-28 victory in Baton Rouge. The Bayou Bengals will be fourth or fifth in the polls tomorrow, depending on where Oklahoma is slotted following its 34-27 victory over Texas in the Red River Rivalry. Alabama, Clemson and Ohio State will be the top three.
Honestly, why do we need polls before the end of October? Most of the early polls are based upon reputation and nothing more. Same with college basketball, where Kansas, Kentucky, Duke and North Carolina are automatically ranked in the preseason no matter what.
Missouri beat Ole M(P)iss 38-27. Good. As much as I can’t stand Florida, I totally depise the plantation in Oxford. I wish there would have been more allegations against Hugh Freeze which would have given the SEC reason to expel the Rebels.
Washington won AGAIN in the National League Championship Series. The Nationals take a 2-0 lead back to the banks of the Potomac. The Cardinals had better find an offense NOW or else there will not be another game at Busch Stadium III until April.
The Yankees beat the Astros 7-0 in the first game of the ALCS at Houston. I can see it now….all the east coast media slobbering over the prospect of commuting up and down I-95. People in Philadelphia might not be so excited about the idea.
It wasn’t a good day for Larry. The Cardinals lost again, and the Blues got hammered 6-3 in Montreal. At least Mizzou prevented it from being a total disaster.
Louisiana’s governor’s election is going to a second round. Incumbent John Bel Edwards failed to reach the necessary 50 percent plus one vote to win in the primary. He will now face Eddie Rispone in a runoff.
Rispone is a carbon copy of former governor Mike Foster–an rich old white man financing his own campaign. Foster didn’t do squat in two terms. He was more concerned about hunting and riding his motorcycles.
Louisiana was a total mess under Edwards’ predecessor, Piyush “Bobby” Jindal. Jindal cut state services and higher education to bare bones and the state swam in red ink deeper than the Mississippi River running through Baton Rouge. Jindal neglected the Bayou State to prepare his presidential campaign, which bombed spectacularly thank God.
Edwards–no relation to former four-term governor Edwin Washington Edwards–has put Louisiana back on solid financial footing. Of course, too many sycophant voters see a “D” next to Edwards name an automatically think he’s evil.
Rispone ran disgusting attack ads against both Edwards and Republican U.S. Representative Ralph Abraham, who finished third. I am so glad I’m not in Louisiana to see this crap.
Politics disgusts me. Period. I hate it. I’m sick and freaking tired of the hatred on both sides. Just because someone has an opposite view to yours doesn’t mean he or she is your mortal enemy. The real enemies are in North Korea, Russia, Venezuela and other countries which would destroy the American way of life.
My 43rd year is down to its last 10 hours. By time I reconnect with this blog, I will be into my 44th. Good night.