Pye in the Face

It’s Friday, Janet and I actually have plans that involve other human beings our age who aren’t also related to us, and life is generally good. To top things off, I finished an article last night that left me feeling as though I’d just enjoyed the benefits of 17 consecutive Metamucil milkshakes. To put it a different way, I finished an article for a client that nearly killed me. But it’s done, it’s good, and I want to share.

The article version is up on GoonBlog.com - you remember the GB, right? It’s the hockey blog I maintain with my old friends from Concord - Killer and Detroit Velvet Smooth. If you’d like to see a top 10 list of the best NCAA Buzzer Beaters from the last sixty some odd years, have a look. Tis the season to go to a sports bar, eat two pounds of wings, order a bucket of Budweisers and get yourself thrown out for yelling obsceneties at people in the establishment who are rooting for Duke, after all.

If you use Digg, Stumble Upon, Mixx, Propeller or any of the other myriad of social media and voting sites - please give the article some love. You can even quickly send it out as a MySpace bulletin or Facebook post as I have added links to both options as a drop down at the end of the article. Bless your hearts and may the Easter Bunny bring you several Cadbury Cream Eggs - of which I know I’m not the only fan. I may, however, be the only fan who likes to crack them open with his mouth and then let the sugary schmeg drip down his chin and onto his chest. Inside voice, Dave.

I commemorated the holiday this year by sleeping until 11am, finally finishing the massive Brother Fish and then cleaning up my house. As all of my clients are American, no one noticed or cared about my personal day, and I hope everyone is currently gorged on turkey and watching TV with a glass of dry white left over from dinner in their hand. It snowed up here in Portland for the first time this morning and I realized since this house was built in 2004 no one has actually lived here late in the season enough to see snow. I am going to take some photos for my folks tomorrow and I’m sure it will be as strange for them as it was for me. Raise that glass to me at this point and toast to my not freezing to death in a couple of months only to be discovered come spring sitting upright and bearded in the filthy dining room with a half-finished letter bomb in front of me.

Does anyone know who won the Concord / Bedford football game today? I couldn’t find it mentioned online. I did get one especially exciting piece of news, however. Pixie, the mother of my soon to be puppy, is almost ready to drop. The breeder sent me some adorable new photos and poor Pixie looks fit to pop. She is due by the end of the weekend, apparently, so I may be making a trip over to Seeley’s bay to see my future best friend very, very soon. Wee Shepherd Pye cometh!

And yes, the GoonSquad will be in attendance. I have done an outstanding job of not getting pissed during this most recent visit to Beantown, but I’m afraid my batting average is going to decline sharply this very evening. Anyone else going? Greg are you out there? Johnny Mac? Nick? Get at me, dawgs. Apparently Detroit Velvet smooth has scored us some excellent seats and I am supremely happy at my good citizenship test timing.

There are a lot of things that go into inspecting new homes such as Radon tests and mold inspection. Testing is very important with new homes and knowing different tests that their are which could effect the value of a new home.

Allow me to continue to stump for Doris Kearns Goodwin as the next Red Sox Nation President. She has made it through the first round, hopefully with some help from a few of my readers, and the second stage of the contest relies entirely on traffic to her MLB Blog. So please, even if you don’t know Doris, myself, her husband or her children - take comfort in my remarkably enlightened wisdom and click here. Have a read of this Pulitzer Prize winning author’s very first blog posting and then send it around to your friends. Grass roots support, people. Grass roots.

My friend Joey’s mom is up for President of Red Sox Nation. You may have heard of her - she’s a very well known, Pulitzer Prize winning historical author - and a genuinely wonderful lady. She is up against a veritable who’s who of well-known Bostonians for the coveted position, and I’d like to do my part to whip up a little voter love. Here is Joey’s email to me today:

“Dear old mom has been nominated to serve as president of red sox nation. Now, Remy is also in the running and using his bully pulpit on NESN to sway all sorts of voters. We need you to vote for Doris, not just because she would make a stunning and capable chief executive but also to strike back at the Media Barons who think that the access they have into our homes should be equitable to access into our very hearts. Follow the link below to vote up to 10 times, vote for Doris, vote for liberty! Feel free to forward to all who love the Red Sox and freedom from media tyranny”:

Doris Kearns Goodwin will bring a level of intellectualism and historical analysis to the position that Sox fans will find refreshing and optimistic. To prepare for the future is to understand the past, after all. In addition to being able to statistically rattle off figures as well as any fan in the Nation, Doris can then tell you what people were wearing, eating, reading and how they were voting that year. It’s an honest and life-long love of the game coupled with one of the best insights into American History alive today. I, for one, would honestly like to see Doris in this position above all of the other candidates in the running. But don’t take my word for her forward-thinking and original spin on the position:

“If I were fortunate enough to be chosen president of Red Sox Nation, I would call upon my love of history to exorcise the tortured memories of the past that create a constant sense of dread in even the most loyal Sox fans. I would personally rewrite the history of 1978 to remove the story of the final months when our 14 game lead was catastrophically lost. I would encourage NESN to bury every clip of Bucky Dent and Bill Buckner in an underground vault. I would sponsor a special line of T-shirts emblazoned only with positive images - Ortiz pointing to the sky on reaching home, Papelbon pumping his fist on recording a save, Schilling’s bloody sock. Since I’ve never outgrown the superstition that the actions of fans influence the fortunes of our teams, I would do all that I could to transform the mood of Red Sox Nation from one fearing the worst, to one expecting the best, game after game, year after year.”

Doris is the perfect remedy for a Nation which more and more is being saturated by peripheral, fair-weather, nay-saying fans who dilute the legendary fan base as a whole. That’s not to say these folks should be banished. On the contrary - they should be educated, hardened and sent back out into battle as a true Fenway Phalanx ready to defend Boston from Yankee tyranny. Doris is the woman for the job, so please place your vote (up to 10 times) right now!

In the middle of all this “I’m so busy… Waaah - I’m moving internationally, change my drawers” bullshit, I’ve gotten a little ahead of myself. I get daily IMs and emails asking me why I have the fucking audacity to stop writing regularly. So, in spite of the imminent re-imagining of PITF, which is truthfully well underway and even paid for - I will continue to write. I am honored that any frigger still cares.

I am truly in the belly of the beast this eve. Less than 100 miles away lies the Capital city of Canada, my place of birth in 1973, whose Senators hockey team is in the running for the first Canadian Stanley Cup since 1993 - That’s 14 frigging years for anyone keeping score. For comparative purposes, that’s like the USA not being the champion of inventing chewing tobacco for almost 15 years straight. Brutal, I know.

The end of my Grandmother’s street (I am living alone at her house with Boss until it is sold) has “Bring it home to Canada, Sens!” written in children’s street chalk at the intersection. At least 5 out of every cars I pass have a little Sens flag waving out the window. Every time my beloved Uncle John and I meet for a beer, there are pubs full of Senator shirt clad fans everywhere. It’s a typically quiet and reserved Canadian event of incredible importance.

Anaheim is now ahead in the series 3-1 as of 5 minutes ago, and the series is returning Wednesday to California - which isn’t great for the odds. Home ice and one more win and it’s over. But I’ll be watching, and I pray for continued serendipity relating to my move home. Go Sens, and go my bid on a Charger tomorrow in the auction.

Killer wrote a great article over on GoonBlog today. If you’re fed up with the new NHL rules, migrate over and have a gander. It’s insightful and hilarious. Here’s a wee taste:

1. Eliminate the Instigator rule: The players hate it, the fans hate it and it just plain does not make sense. Let the men police themselves. If two willing combatants have an issue with each other they can settle things the right way; one-on-one! If some wing ding wants to fly around the ice taking liberties, he will quickly be approached and dealt with accordingly. Paul Mara had two Instigator penalties this season… yeah you read that correctly - Paul Fuckin’ Mara! During one of his final games with the B’s before being traded to the Rangers, he was about to get into a scrap when the ref reminded him he had 2 and one more would get him suspended. The puss bag who he wanted to go with kept goading him fully knowing Paul couldn’t do anything.

2. Suspend hit from behind offenders: There has been WAY too many of these infractions this past season. Forget giving them a 2 minute penalty, toss their ass out of the game and suspend them. I know there will be a gray area and all that but getting blasted from behind is just about the worst thing - unless of course you are My Better Half who seems to enjoy it.

Wow. Read the full post here.