May 29, 2018

To think that the same band that produced this also produced this as the “A” side of the same single.

..and produced both this and this as flips on the same 45 RPM single. Check the videos out, the quality is astounding!

..and produced both this and this on the same 45 RPM single. At the same time as what most folks believe was the greatest rock album ever produced. As for the latter, it was the first “psychedelic rock” release – light years ahead of what other bands were even thinking about doing at the time. Most folks don’t realize the original track was played fast and then slowed down from the original speed to give it that murky feeling. It remains (at least in my view) the greatest bass performance of Paul McCartney’s career. This is what it sounds like when played at the original speed. The guy is good – even has the Ricky bass!

…and produced both this and this on the same 45 RPM single. At the same time as Rubber Soul.

…and produced both this and this for a 45 RPM release.

…and produced both this and this for a 45 RPM release.

I won’t even talk about “lesser” releases that any other band would have considered far and away the best of their career. ‘You can talk about the “greats” all you want, but that the Beatles achieved over their time in terms of both sales – and quality of product – will never be equaled again.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 02:33 | Comments (0)
May 28, 2018

Hat tip: Jack Posobiec.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 02:20 | Comments (0)
May 26, 2018

In keeping with Memorial Day and the remembrance of our veterans who lived and fought and died so that we could cook hamburgers and hot dogs and hit golf ball and do whatever it is folks do on a Memorial Day weekend, a few thoughts and comments:

Simply put, the TaylorMade M2 irons I got are beyond sweet: they’re the best clubs I’ve ever hit in my life. They’re long, they’re forgiving, they look great: the ones I have have battleship gray graphite shafts with psychedelic green highlights. The 7-iron I tested out at Golf & Ski had black graphite shafts, but these are much more handsome. And better yet – me and the 5-iron made friends right from the start with a high, straight trajectory that went 170 yards by the time it stopped. Exactly what I have been looking for in a 5-iron since my hybrids are so iffy at times. I love these clubs!

it’s not even a friggin’ hurricane, for gawdsakes! Where are the days when men were men? My over-under for the number of patio chairs turned over my the storm is 72, and I’m sticking to it.

But, but, what about Russia?

CNN sucks.

I was never a Hanley Ramirez fan, so the Sox designating him for assignment doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is Jackie Bradley Jr. looking up at the Mendoza line this late in the season. I love the guy, but I get the sense he’s not very coachable. The Sox can afford to carry his bat because of his defense, but jeepers, the guy has to start hitting soon, doesn’t he?

Joe Biden is nothing more than a child groping, plagiarist, over-the-hill ass. That being said (and I have no proof of this, so take it for what you will), if the Clintons hadn’t threatened to have him end up in a body bag if he contested Hillary he would have gotten the Democratic nomination for President and would have won in a landslide. I still remember seeing the news on CNN after I played golf with my Goodboys friends back in late October of 2015, thinking that Biden’s announced withdrawal just handed Donald Trump the presidency.

It will come out that the Obama administration planted spies in the Trump campaign. It will come out that Hillary Clinton should have been indicted on felonies relating to her e-mail serve and her handling of classified information. And James Comey, James Clapper, and John Brennan are all going to be indicted as well. The whole “Spygate” scandal will go down in as the greatest scandal in American political history. Mark my words.

And to think, this b**ch could have been the President of the United States. Words can’t describe just how repulsive Clinton is, but Democrats eat her up. Why? You tell me. I have one word for Hilary and her sore-loser campaign: W-I-s-c-o-n-s-i-n. Just like sore-loser Al Gore back in 2000 blamed the Republicans, the Supreme Court, and everyone but himself for not winning his home state of Tennessee, which would have rendered the whole Florida thing moot.

My God bless our veterans and their sacrifices in fighting the fights that had to be fought. You are never far from our thoughts.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 20:52 | Comments (0)
May 22, 2018

I was tired, man.

Like, dead-tired.

Like, as dead tired as man could be coming off of suicide watch.

Like, as dead tired as a man coming off of suicide watch after being strapped into the electric chair for 45 minutes before being told, “Never mind” after the governor pardoned him for all eternity after discovering the dude never committed the crime he had been convicted of.

That kind of tired.

Last week was a bad week. Every time we thought we were “thisclose” to a breakthrough at “The Client Who Shall Remain Nameless”, there were all kinds of crap coming down on us. Then on Thursday night, we got word of a huge flaw in our workflow that threatened to send us back to the bad old days of February; I went to bed as dejected and depressed as I’d been in weeks, only to find out in the morning that the moron responsible for the QA had made a mistake and, oh, everything looked good after all. Sorry about that, fellas!

So on Friday afternoon I had to get away. I didn’t have my clubs with me, but I knew I could drive to the Golf & Ski in Nashua, NH and tell one of the salespeople there I wanted to try some new clubs out and he’d be more than willing to give me a small bucket.

Looking at all the clubs I could feel all the stress starting to lift; I was once again a kid in a candy store. I wasn’t really planning on doing anything other than hit some balls to see how my back felt, so just for yucks I grabbed three 7-irons off the rack: a Mizuno JPX 900 with a steel shaft, a Ping G with a steel shaft, and, just for the heck of it, a TaylorMade M2 with a graphite shaft. The Mizuno and the Ping I had tried a year ago when shopping around for new irons, the TaylorMade I had tried in a steel shaft at the same time.

I remembered the feels of the Ping and the Mizuno and remembered why I had settled on my final choice of the Callaway Steelhead XRs at the time. Still, it felt good just to stretch out my back and hit some balls. And while I didn’t like either of the clubs that much, I didn’t hit them bad, and the warm afternoon sun was a nice departure to the endless crises, phone calls, and the laptop. It also didn’t hurt knowing that in less than an hour’s time I’d be enjoying Mexican food and Margaritas just up the road a piece.

I’d grabbed the TaylorMade M2 as an afterthought: I’d been a “steel” man for so long I’d never even considered hitting irons with a graphite shaft. But one swing later, feeling the way the shaft responded to a solid “on the screws” hit, the ball taking a longer and higher trajectory than I’d ever seen me hit with a 7-iron hit, I was damned intrigued. Three balls later, all hit so-so, I was enthralled. A dozen balls later, I was in love-love-love. Like, “hey mister, can we make a deal on these clubs even though I can’t afford the price and I’m two thousand miles away from home” kind of love-love-love.

Well, almost. But boy, they sure felt great. Better than any iron I’d ever hit before. Better than my Steelhead XRs, for sure.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve grown to like my Callaway Steelhead XRs, but one thing that annoys me about them is that every hit kind of has a similar feel. I mean, you know when you hit them either fat or thin, but when you hit them on the screws you never get that sense of accomplishment, that sense of the club saying to you, “Dude, you done good.” With the TaylorMade M2, not only did they seem to hit the ball higher – something I really enjoyed watching – but they seemed to go longer, perhaps a club length longer for me. After hitting another mini-bucket, not only was my back feeling good, I was feeling good. Like the way hitting balls should make you feel.

A few of my Goodboys friends joined me on Sunday when I tried the M2 7-iron out again. The way the club felt only served to confirm what I felt on Friday: these were the clubs for me. And the boys were suitably impressed as well. So that was that: I had already found I could get a great deal on the clubs at the PGA Tour Superstore website (after all, TaylorMade had stopped manufacturing the M2s six months ago), and, better yet, I could also get a very decent trade-in for my Steelheads at 2ndSwing.com.

So that’s it: The Great White Shank’s “Callaway era” is over. It was OK while it lasted – not great, just OK. Had some good rounds between the old RAZR-Xs and the Steelheads, but the M2 is the first iron I’ve truly fallen in love with. They’re light (something that will force me not to over-swing), the black graphite shafts have a nice sinister look to them, and they feel really good in my hands. I’m looking forward to seeing how the other clubs hit and putting them into competition.

Oh, and as far as “The Client Who Shall Remain Nameless” is concerned? We actually had a good weekend, and I hope we’ll be past the critical phase that we’re presently in by this time next week. Something to hope for, anyways. Because I’ve got a bunch of time off I would like to start taking: time off that includes a few consecutive rounds of Friday golf with my Cobra woods and hybrids, my Ping Scottsdale putter, and my TaylorMade M2 graphite irons.

Filed in: Golf & Sports by The Great White Shank at 22:49 | Comments (0)
May 15, 2018

Found this item by way of Glenn Reynolds’ excellent Instapundit blog – one of my daily Internet stops – and it truly is fascinating. Especially this:

What I’ve been thinking about is a really important part of life that, unlike all of these examples, isn’t spread out evenly through time—something whose [already done / still to come] ratio doesn’t at all align with how far I am through life:

Relationships.

…When you look at that reality, you realize that despite not being at the end of your life, you may very well be nearing the end of your time with some of the most important people in your life.

My experiences with the Episcopal Church in both Massachusetts and Kentucky cured me of the habit of projecting too far in the future and helped me realize just how precious every day is and my relationships with my friends (Goodboys and otherwise) are. I’ve learned not to waste unnecessary time and effort into relationships that don’t go both ways: in that regard, loyalty is very important to me. Being thousands of miles from my Massachusetts friends means I can’t expect them to drop whatever it is they are doing and put their lives on hold whenever I travel back east, but I’ve come around to know who they are I can count on in a time of need and those I can’t.

What the above also underscores is just how short my shelf-life is as an active, participating member of Goodboys Nation. I’m 62. Realistically, I’ve only got eight more Goodboys Invitational weekends in me before I turn 70. Eight years. You know how fast those eight years are going to pass? And that assumes in those eight years I’ll remain in reasonably good health.

So yeah, only eight more Goodboys Invitationals after this one for me, and that’ll be it. At that point, I think I’ll just go the way of Arnie, Jack, and Gary: hang up the Foot-Joys and play the role of honorary starter: make the announcements, then grab my driver and slap one down the middle of the fairway, leaving the rest of the guys to go out and play in the July while I saunter off to the cool of an air-conditioned bar to drink margaritas and hob-nob with a pretty bartender.

Not a bad way to ride into the sunset, I don’t think.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 01:19 | Comments (2)
May 13, 2018

I’ve done all I can as far as Goodboys 2018 is concerned, the next move is from the Possum.

Possum, we’re waiting…

Filed in: Goodboys by The Great White Shank at 18:46 | Comments (0)
May 12, 2018

It’s been a long hard week, lots of hours at work. I’m beyond exhausted.
But we had a big breakthrough this week.
Two more hard weeks and we could be done.
Hit a small bucket today and the back held up.
Could even bend over to put a ball on the tee without pain.
Also hit a few chips but I didn’t want to push it.
Back is tight tonight but no pain. Good.
Hopefully I can start taking Fridays off in June to prep for Goodboys.
Heading to Massachusetts on Monday but won’t bring the clubs.
Still too much going on to fraternize much, maybe come July.
Decided not to purchase DirecTV’s Extra Innings package to watch the Sox.
I don’t think they’re going to be that good, and I can’t stand David Price.
Or listening to Dave O’Brien. B-O-R-I-N-G.
Me loves me some President Trump for killing that Iran deal.
Obama’s legacy reminds me of the Wicked Witch of the West.
“I’m melting!….”
John Kerry should be arrested on Logan Act charges.
My national GOP contact says says big news coming re: healthcare reform.
Between that and North Korea, gonna sew up the midterms for the GOP.
Wayne Stinnett’s Jesse McDermitt series of books continue to be a joy.
Just created a Bob Marley playlist on my iPhone.
See y’all in the Eastern Time Zone.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 22:22 | Comments (0)
May 6, 2018

Could the end of the “The Client Who Shall Remain Nameless” nightmare be drawing to a close? Last week was the second of two really bad weeks in a row for just about everyone on the team – especially yours truly, but this time out of chaos and misery came what might have been a real breakthrough. This coming week it appears we will be taking steps forward, not backward, and by the end of next week things could be pretty interesting. We’ll see…

In the meantime…

My visit to the quack the other day went OK. Doc said he actually did the same thing to his back while working out six weeks ago. Put me on some steroids and muscle relaxants and told me to take two weeks off from hitting golf balls and see how it goes. The twinges are still there when I bend over the wrong way, but they don’t last. We’ll see how it goes when I try to hit a small bucket next weekend.

When the final story of the so-called “Russia collusion” and the Mueller investigation is written, Admiral Mike Rogers’ place in history as a one of the greatest patriots this country has every known will finally be revealed. Single-handedly, he saved the country from a massive constitutional crisis.

The below listed material exposes how political appointees of the Obama administration weaponized the intelligence community, the FBI, and the Department of Justice to spy on a US Presidential candidate before he was elected, and for the first time in US History, attempted to initiate the removal of a the duly elected US President from office, creating a Constitutional Crisis and by so doing, dangerously dividing the American electorate, by charging that Donald Trump collude with Russia to win the presidential election, when the truth is that Hillary Clinton colluded with Russia to create and pay for a false Steele Dossier on Donald Trump.

The article further exposes how the political appointees in the Obama administration in the intelligence community, employed the fraudulently created Steele Dossier, funded by the Hillary Presidential Campaign and the Democratic Party, whose content were never verified by the political appointees at FBI Headquarters and US Justice Department Headquarters to obtain FISA Warrants. The goal was to unmask hundreds of American citizens, and to also surveil and intercept communications, phone calls, and conversations of members of the Trump Campaign and the Trump Presidential Transition Team in Trump Tower.

The hero in putting an end to these illegal and treasonous actions, at personal risk to his survival, was NSA Director Admiral Mike Rogers, USN, who James Clapper tried to prevent from revealing the depth of the conspiracy, and then tried to have him removed from office.

The article that follows the above is long and complex, but well worth reading. To think that something like this could have happened in the United States of America is hard to believe. Thanks to Admiral Rogers’ efforts the truth is coming out, and lots of folks the mainstream media has been holding up as heroes and icons could well see themselves indicted on some very serious charges.

Why the mainstream media continues to push any kind of polls after the pathetic job the pollsters did in the 2016 presidential election is beyond me, but, that doesn’t stop them from trying to destroy President Trump every chance they get. This is just one reason why you can’t trust anything you read when it comes to polls anymore. Because, like the mainstream media, they still refuse to recognize what’s really going on outside their Washington Beltway and East and West Coast elitist collectives.

Why the mainstream media is so focused on Stormy Daniels and virtually ignoring what has been happening on the Korean Peninsula is nothing short of amazing. Granted, it could all be some kind of a ruse and end up collapsing, but if there is reconciliation, nuclear disarmament, and a end to hostilities wouldn’t that be as historic in this generation as the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Soviet Union was in a prior generation? We are living in truly historic times, but yup, a wealthy private businessman vulnerable to blackmail could have paid off a porn star years before he ever became president.

…to that end, Jordan Peterson. Candace Owens. Kanye West. Three public figures who are changing the way people think. I’m linking to articles critical of them because y’all need to know why they are perceived as such a threat to the liberal Left and Democrats. They ought to be shaking in their boots, because the times, they are a changin’…

I can’t believe this guy was actually the Republican nominee for president. What a moron.

I know everyone is fascinated with Tiger Woods and applying a microscope to everything he does, but the fact is he’s really no more than just an ordinary golfer out of the PGA Tour right now. Sure, Golf Channel will highlight every great shot he makes during a round, but the fact is other guys out there are doing the same thing, and more often than Tiger is. In addition, what they are showing skews your perception of where Tiger actually is with this game because they don’t show the incessant grinding he has to do every round. Right now nothing is rocking-chair for Tiger; he has to work too hard every round, and come Sunday he doesn’t have anything left in the tank.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 13:47 | Comments (0)
May 5, 2018

Si lo hicimos!

It’s the second anniversary of the Taco Bowl that saved the world. (Hat tip: Instapundit)

A happy Cinco de Mayo to everyone out there from Goodboys Nation weblog!

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 20:50 | Comments (0)
May 3, 2018

I usually don’t dream much about things that have happened in my past. Typically, they’re always kind of disjointed things, like something produced by some early 20th century impressionist artist zonked out of his mind, just flinging paint at a canvas off his fingers. That is, unless I’m dreaming of work and the same crap I deal with twelve hours a day, or the rare golf dream where I’m wedged in between trees and walls and unable to take a full swing with my club.

They say lots of golfers have this kind of dream, researchers don’t know why. But I digress…

Last night I had a dream where I relived one of the best moments of my life. It was back in late 1977 when our band Top Priority was playing a Christmas party at some Elks or VFW hall. It was near the end of our tether as a band, but for this occasion we had brought along my young cousin Gregg to man the lights, and our keyboard player “Keys” Palma had enlisted his brother and a friend of his to augment me on my violin-shaped Hofner knock-off, my brother Mark on drums, “Keys” on his Sun City electric keyboard, and our guitarist “The Cat” with horns in the form of saxophone and trumpet. I remember we played a very bluesy “White Christmas” that (at least to my ears) was one of the coolest things we’d ever done.

In my dream, we capped our performance off with our rendition of this unreleased, horn-backed arrangement of the Beach Boys’ “Back Home”, a song from their 15 Big Ones album the year before. In my dream we were in someone’s cellar working out the arrangement (even though there was no way we could have known about it at the time, technology being what it was), then in the next frame, our band on stage bathed in the colors of Gregg toggling switches on our home-made light show, me handling a gruff lead, the audience clapping along, the band groovin’ in such a way only someone who has ever experienced such a thing could understand – locked in and one with the audience, producing a high unlike any other, a high better than sex, a high better than the greatest high anyone could ever experience.

And then it was over. I woke up, walked out onto the back patio where the last chilly night of the spring gave the tiles under my feet a chilly, almost winter-like feeling. A single bird was chirping in a faraway tree, the stars a carpet of twinkling lights above me. The dream reminded me of a similar occasion two years later, before I gave it all up, with another band playing some dance at Essex Agricultural College, and me handling the lead on a horn-drenched version of this old Beatles tune. I remember at the time thinking we sounded like gods, someone told us later they thought we sucked and one of the worst bands they’d ever heard. But who cares? It’s the memory of it that remains.

I looked at the time, two hours from waking and what would eventually turn out to be five hours of crisis calls in a row, calls that would give me a migraine and cause my injured back to ache back up again.

But for a moment, it was nice to be away.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 23:27 | Comments (0)

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