Alabama Crimson Tide super-star Junior quarterback A.J. McCarron behind several 1st-round pro football draft picks
From a childhood friend in Birmingham, Alabama, just after the BSC Championship game ended last night:
Saw you tried to call earlier and would like to have chatted but was “indisposed” with a minor medical situation with one of my children. No big deal. Don’t know what set of angels you invoked for the win tonight, but you managed to get it done, with the help of a few others of course. Think your dad would have been proud of this bunch, but most importantly to me, I hope you enjoyed the game and the season. See you soon, I hope. Mat
My father and Alabama football legend Coach Paul “Bear” Bryant became close friends after the Bear started promoting Golden Flake potato chips on his Sunday afternoon Saturday game replay shows. The way the Bear came around to being okay with that was his players didn’t like taking salt tablets and were at risk to salt deprivation and heat strokes during hot August and September practices, but they loved Golden Flake potato chips, which had lots of salt, so a big bowl of Golden Flake potato chips was on every table at team meals. My father had a home on Lower Matecumbe Key, and sometimes he and the Bear and some of their Alabama cronies gathered there to R & R. For a very long time, there were a pair of Converse tennis shoes in a plastic bag hanging from the ceiling over the bar in the old Green Turtle Inn, with a label on the bag saying “Bear Bryant’s Booties”. I never did hear how they got them off his feet.
Morning, Mat – Actually, I felt Alabama was going to lose because of that grievous foul against the Georgia QB in the SEC National Title Game, which the refs didn’t flag, and I even wrote that to “Sancho Panza”, a non-football cyberspace friend yesterday afternoon and of how conflicted I was internally about the game last night. Then, I took a nap and dreamt of a ref diving for a pass in the left-hand corner of the end zone and not being able to drag his feet and bring the ball down in bounds. Later, as the game started and progressed, and the Tide had its way with the Irish, I thought that dream was the angels’ way of telling me the pass I had thrown to Sancho Panza, and to you a few weeks ago, was unplayable and the Tide was destined to win.
Yes, they played very well, and they played a very clean game, too. As did Notre Dame play a very clean game, and I was very glad to see that. Good role model for kids, and for adults. And, yes, I imagine my father would have been and probably is very proud of how the Tide players acquitted themselves last night. It was a very loud statement, and I was glad to hear, hope it holds, Saban is not going back to the NFL to coach. Had thought some during this season that perhaps he would get to a point coaching at Alabama where he felt he could go nowhere but down, and that would motivate him to move on. The pressure of coaching at and playing for Alabama was already tremendous, and now will be even greater. A hell of an act to follow next year, for sure, with everyone they play all hyped up about knocking them off. However, Bear Bryant was a hell of an act to follow.
Been feeling for some time that maybe I need to be in Birmingham for a while, the local action down here is wearing very thin for me, am really jaded with the local politics, familiarity breeds contempt, and all of that. Imagine that works both ways. The “religious” insurgencies for the past little while also are wearing thin for me, in a different way. The internal work is beyond comprehension horrible, makes the local political juking and jiving internal work seem like a trip Panama City or Gulf Shores for high school spring break. I need a rest and rejuvenation; whether or not such is in the cards, I can’t see in the crystal ball I don’t have. Need more US greenbacks, too. Maybe something brewing there, time will tell.
I know they must be delirious in Alabama, or at least the Crimson Tide half. That A.J. McCarron’s drop dead gorgeous Miss Alabama girlfriend is an Auburn Tigerette is interesting. That side attraction reminds me some of Mary Lou Snow and Riley Strange in that first and wackiest of my novels, Kundalina, Alabama, which some pirate named Jake Carruthers claimed to have written. Mary Lou went to Auburn and became a vet with mystical powers. Riley went to Alabama and was till trying to figure out what he was gonna be when the tale ended, after a few wacky-ish mystical disruptions. Easily the most fun book I wrote. No relation, apparently, to the life I was living and would live. Must of all been made up. Or, maybe it just hasn’t kicked in yet.
Hard to imagine me being your age and having children to look after. Ain’t all that great at looking after myself, but do pretty good with Miss Kitty, who probably died and went to heaven when I brought her up here from the animal shelter in Key West in March 2010. In return, she keeps me company and has kept the woods rats under control in the bothering me in my home sense. Am befriending, slowly, a feral lady cat, the sight of whom causes great hissing and spatting from Miss Kitty, who is of the opinion she is the Queen of this neck of the woods, even though she gets her ass whupped every time she tangles with the feral lady, whom I named Midnight, since she’s mostly black with some white spots mostly on her feets. She’s started fattening up, maybe she’s gonna drop a litter. Still too early to tell. Maybe just the result of the same chow Miss Kitty gets – Friskies Seafood Sensations. Miss Kitty don’t seem to like any other cat food, especially not the wet kind I spend a wad on at the vet.
My pre-dawn dreams a little while ago left me feeling some interesting and fun stuff might be coming along down Key West way before too long. Interesting and fun to the angels has not historically seemed all that interesting and fun to me. They must find my writhings and thrashings entertaining, like watching Bruce Willis meets Cinderalla Werewolf. Or Mary Poppins meets Jack Nicholson. Way, way over the Cuckoo’s Nest, amen.
Here below are a couple of political forwards from my rather politically conservative duplicate bridge partner, Al Morgan, M.I.T. Phd grad, engineer, retired covert CIA operator, whom I imagine you’d really like, and my reply to the second forward. He somehow finally managed to send me stuff that wasn’t Republican propaganda. I don’t usually send him my ravings, don’t want to be responsible for the heart attack, nor to be erased by some of his old wet work buddies. However, I do sometimes remind him that Barack Obama and G.W. Bush both fell out of the same idiot production facility, just different divisions, and I’m so far left that Obama is a Nazi.
Five surgeons from big cities are discussing who makes the best patients to operate on.
The first surgeon, from New York, says, ‘I like to see accountants on my operating table because when you open them up, everything inside is numbered.’
The second, from Chicago, responds, ‘Yeah, but you should try electricians! Everything inside them is color coded.’
The third surgeon, from Dallas, says, ‘No, I really think librarians are the best, everything inside them is in alphabetical order.’
The fourth surgeon, from Los Angeles chimes in: ‘You know, I like construction workers… Those guys always understand when you have a few parts left over.’
But the fifth surgeon, from Washington, DC shut them all up when he observed: ‘You’re all wrong. Politicians are the easiest to operate on. There’s no guts, no heart, no balls, no brains, and no spine. Plus, the head and the ass are interchangeable.’
I met a fairy who said she would grant me one wish.
Immediately I said, “I want to live forever.”
“Sorry,” said the fairy, “I’m not allowed to grant eternal
“OK,” I said, “Then, I want to die after Congress gets its head out of its ass!”
“You crafty bastard,” said the fairy.
To which I replied to Al and the other people he had sent it:
The selfish bastard, why didn’t he wish for Congress to get its head out of its ass?
Just today, someone at the health food store on Big Pine Key was bitching about Congress. I said it looked to me the only solution was to nuke Washington D.C. when they all were there. She continued bitching about Congress. I said, “Like I said, nuke the place, make in unhabitable forever, start all over.”
Driving home, I thought to myself, “Darn, those seriously bad old Nazis with very long memories in Al’s last published novel, No End in Sight, nuked the wrong American city!”
The Baby Phoenix, Like Father, Like Son, No End in Sight, available at Amazon, including Kindle version. The 4th and final installment soon to go to press. Altogether, the not so circumstantial evidence that Al had a great legend, but not so great that the CIA underthread didn’t get lighted up a bit.
I hear Midnight under the trailer yowling for her breakfast, so gotta tend to that. Thanks for the opportunity to write myself into a somewhat better general mood. I might have been in a better Crimson Tide mood last night, if Alabama had beat Texas A & M. But it was still a pretty good mood from a Tide fan perspective. Pretty well shut up the naysayers from other conferences for another year. I must be going soft, I was feeling sort of bad last night for Notre Dame and their coach and fans.
Right, a part of me is as sane and normal as any other Alabama Crimson Tide redneck fanatic ex-pat, who, with one brief interlude with a Lower Keys biker chick who picked him up one day in late 2010, was a monk not by happy choice since early 2005.