May 13, 2016

This is priceless. And wholeheartedly agree!

Hat tip: Free Republic

Filed in: Politics & World Events by The Great White Shank at 01:47 | Comments (3)
May 12, 2016

It’s Thursday, and I gotta tell you it’s been one loooong week. Still, here are a few items to brighten your day. Can someone say “Weekend!”?

I like reading stories like this. It’s always good to remember that it’s the good deeds folks do out there every day in an unsung way that rarely make the news.

OK, but I’m guessing the pork spare ribs tasted awfully fresh that night!

Star Trek never looked this good. Is this cool or what? (Hat tip: Instapundit)

Sure, it was only the Oakland As – not a very good baseball team – but how ‘bot ‘dem Sawx? They’re hitting the cover the ball, they’re playing great defense, and getting decent pitching. It’s not June yet, but maybe first baseman Hanley Ramirez – is he playing a great first base or what? – is right in saying there’s something very special going on this year.

And continuing on the Sox, I’ve always enjoyed watching center fielder Jackie Bradley Jr. play. Watching him do his Willie Mays impression on both sides of the plate is a joy to watch. As is seeing second baseman Dustin Pedroia play healthy again. Oh, and how about the play of shortstop Xander Bogearts? Or third baseman Travis Shaw? Glad I ended up getting my MLB Extra Innings package from DirecTV.

It’s almost summer – time for some new surf music to add to my “Zen Surf” collection. Los Kahunas sound pretty good to me.

Finally, if you are a Goodboy committed to playing in this year’s Goodboys Invitational, you’ll be wanting to check out my next post. Could be Friday, could be over the weekend, but I guarantee you’ll find it verrrrrrry enlightening.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 04:51 | Comments (3)
May 11, 2016

Not that it means anything, but…

I can’t help but wondering what the White and the Democratic National Committee are really thinking about Hillary Clinton and her campaign’s continuing struggle to put Bernie Sanders away. Every day she looks more vulnerable, and I can’t help but thinking about that wild card FBI director James Comey is holding. At what point is a call made from somewhere, by someone big-big-BIG with just two words: “Do it.”. She’s on the ropes right now, a criminal conspiracy finding and recommendation for a grand jury to be seated would finish her off.

…as I’ve said before: if the Democrats really want the White House and therefore a continuation of Barack Obama’s legacy, shunting Madame Hillary aside and imploring Joe Biden to run with Massachusetts senator Elizabeth “Lieawatha” Warren as his running mate I think would seal the deal.

…because if Hillary Clinton survives, it doesn’t matter who she picks as a running mate, Donald Trump will beat her like a baby harp seal. Let’s face it, Hillary reminds every guy of his former wife: petty, shrill, and as phony as the southern accent she drags out every time there’s an African-American audience in front of her. Men despise her, and with good reason.

…which is why if Hillary is the nominee don’t discount the possibility of a lot – and I do mean a lot of Bernie supporters either staying home or pulling the lever for Donald Trump.

…of course, all you’ll hear between now and November in the mainstream media and the cable networks is how the Republican Party is split over Donald Trump. As if everything with the Dems is hunky-dory. Belie me, it ain’t.

They say Trump has his VP candidate list down to five or six. Me, I’m hoping he chooses either Governor Scott Walker of Wisconsin – virtually sealing the deal to take that purple state from the Dems, or Col. Allen West, who not only is a true patriot, but someone with class and dignity, and someone who is sharp as a tack.

…I’m guessing Newt Gingrich is on The Donald’s short list, but to me he’d be better suited as Chief of Staff.

…with John Bolton as his Secretary of State, Chris Christie as Attorney General, and Rudy Giuliani as head of Homeland Security. And Ivanka as whatever she wants to be.

I sure wish Mitt Romney fought as hard against Barack Obama when he ran for President as he is against Donald Trump. Hey Mitt, I have four letters for you: S-T-F-U.

…and speaking of the 2012 Republican ticket, here’s hoping challenger Paul Nehlen Eric Cantors Paul Ryan. Ryan is nothing more than your typical globalist, open-borders RINO. Time to put a Republican in the Oval Office who is America First.

Q: How many libertarians does it take to screw in a light bulb? A: None. The free market will do it. Enjoy the darkness.

[UPDATE:] Well, lookee here. Can The Great White Shank call ‘em, or what? Y’know, sometimes I scare even myself with the accuracy of which I write. :-)

Filed in: Politics & World Events by The Great White Shank at 20:48 | Comments (2)
May 8, 2016

Days until Goodboys Invitational weekend: 68
Location: Stonecreek Golf Club
Score: 50 + 51 = 101
Handicap: 25.4 / Trend: 25.2 (-0.2)

Day Two of my weekend golf odyssey began with a nice little range session where I felt ready to get out to Stonecreek Golf Club and finally do some damage. It had beaten me up more than a few times in the past, but after yesterday’s round at Superstition Springs I felt confident that this would be THE day.

An hour later: five holes, five lost balls. An ill-advised lay-up into the water on #1. My tee shot finding the same pond on #2. A sculled 5-iron into crap on the par-3 third (how’d that happen?). A pulverized drive through the fairway (and a neighbor’s fence) on #4. And an 8-iron approach shot on five that I thought I’d hit purrrrfectly but found the pond right of the green. And yet I’m still alive, courtesy of a diabolical short game and a red-hot putter, including three straight one-putts all from around twelve feet.

Jordan Spieth (actually, his name’s Connor, but he looks like the PGA Tour’s boy wonder with a swing to match), one of the two sticks I’m playing with, finishes off his Pabst Blue Ribbon, and says with a grin, “Dude, you can play this game if you can get within fifty yards of the hole!” He and his friend have country music playing in their cart, so I respond with, “Like that country song goes, ‘If Today Was a Fish, I’d Throw It Back In’”. They like that, and his partner Clay yells, “Let’s start playin’ some freakin’ golf!”

And so we do. I go bogey-par-par-bogey to rescue a 50 on the front, but after the turn I’m out of sync again. It’s not like I’m shanking balls all over the place, it just that I feel a hair off. I can’t seem to put together two good shots in a row, and the two times I do, I three-putt the green. It was just that kind of a day. A par and two bogeys on the back to close and I limp in with a 51 for a 101, just like the surf route.

While it would have been nice to break 100 (and looking at the card I see how easy it would have been to do), I’m not that disappointed. It wasn’t that long ago that on a day where I’d hit only four fairways and lost nine balls I’d be looking at somewhere around a 120, but I hung in there throughout and never once thought the mojo wouldn’t come back on my next swing. The sticks were a good bunch of guys to play with, and I’m guessing we won’t see another bright, lovely 75-degree day until the heat gods flip the switch in October. And that 101 still dropped my handicap index a smidge.

But there’s clearly still work to do. I know I fell into some old bad habits out there, playing the ball a little too forward in my stance and swaying during my backswing and not getting more vertical as Hunter Mahan advises, but that’s just being more disciplined, slowing things down a little, and making better decisions when I’m out of position. But all that comes with practice. Two weeks from now I’ll try the same two courses again and just see how it goes. By then Goodboys Invitational weekend will be less than two months away. Lord, how this year is going by fast!

Filed in: Golf Quest,Goodboys by The Great White Shank at 11:58 | Comments (0)
May 7, 2016

Days until Goodboys Invitational weekend: 69
Location: Superstition Springs Golf Club
Score: 55 + 46 = 101
Handicap: 25.7 / Trend: 25.4 (-0.3)

Fifteen feet.
Six feet of rough, two feet of fringe, seven feet of green.

On the fifth hole at Superstition Springs, a sharp 291-yard dogleg left, I’ve just finished splitting the fairway with a 190-yard 3-hybrid and getting away with a 110-yard 9-iron that landed in between two deep sand traps behind a narrow green when I really should have pulled pitching wedge, and am in a damned fine position for at worst a bogey five. I’m feeling pretty frisky about my game right now, sitting at 3 over (par, bogey, par, par) and a rocking chair one at that.

The chip I’m facing is decidedly downhill, and nothing to get too aggressive with: on the other side of the green is a sand trap, then a pond behind that. I’m not worried – after all, I’m, like, in the zone, right? Looking back, the easiest play would have been to take my putter and leave it on the green for at worst a two-putt for my bogey. But I feel good about my short game and pull my pitching wedge.

Bad idea. Shelter me from the powder in the finger, as they say.

I chunk my chip into the deep sand trap no more than two feet to my right. I know what I’m now facing – I’m the golf equivalent of Prince right now. With a downhill lie I catch too much ball with my sand wedge and it flies the green and the sand trap behind it, and lands in the pond. I take my drop and duff that one into the deep sand trap protecting the green. An out and two putts later I make a quad bogey snowman. Talk about throwing away shots.

The rest of the front nine is just bad golf, being in the wrong position – something Superstition Springs will penalize you for greatly – on every hole. I go triple-triple-double-double and limp into the clubhouse with a 55. I’m ready to call the day quits, but then I start thinking: what else am I gonna do – go back to work? So I drive over to ten, committed to going as low as I possibly can, recognizing that the back nine at Superstition Springs and The Great White Shank have never really ever seen eye to eye.

I tell myself to hang in there. After all, a little poor course management at SS goes an awfully long way, and truth be told I hadn’t been striking the ball badly at all. I par the difficult 10th hole, then, after going a little loose off the tee on the par 5 11th, I put some good iron shots together to make bogey and feel my short game finally starting to come around. I make par on the par 3 12th. After a triple-bogey on 13 (in which, attempting to get out of a deep sand trap with a 8-iron, my ball almost tore my head off when it ricocheted back at me), I par the 14th, then make a miraculous bogey on the par 3 15th with an unearthly chip from nowheresville (applause from the guys playing the adjacent hole). I then par the 16th following an unearthly 5-iron approach. With two holes to play I’m lying 32 – 32! Not half bad, eh? Unfortunately, I put two balls in the drink on the brutally tough par 5 17th for a quad bogey nine, then make a rocking-chair bogey on 18 for a crowd-pleasing 46.

The numbers don’t lie: a 55/46=101. 6 fairways hit. 27 putts. 9 holes at bogey or less (including a career-high five pars!). And all that on a brutally tough course, and on a windy day. Not a bad day’s worth of work.

Right now I feel I’m in a good spot. I’ve got a little over two months until Goodboys Invitational weekend and all the work I’ve done on my iron play over the past month is really starting to pay off. In prior years that front nine score would have done me in, but I’ve got enough confidence in my game now that I know if I just execute shots the way I need to and hang in there with my short game as it is I’m gonna be OK.

More than anything else, I’ve changed the way I approach my swing. In past years everything was about feel – the good days could be pleasant enough, but they were few and far between. With the help of Hunter Mahan’s iron-hitting philosophy from GOLF Magazine’s February 2015 issue I’ve become much more of a technical golfer. It’s like anything else: if you apply the same axiom to every shot you’ll get a predictable outcome; the only variables are the wind, the lie, and overall course conditions.

I really feel as if I’m ready to take my game to the next level, which to me is bogey golf. The only question is how and when that will happen. I’m coming on strong, y’all.

Filed in: Golf Quest,Goodboys by The Great White Shank at 01:32 | Comments (0)
May 6, 2016

So where does the campaign go from here? Hard to believe that it is the Republicans who appear to have picked their candidate before the Democrats. I mean, who could have seen that happening? But this is what happens when you have an old, worn-out retread like Hillary Clinton revealing yet again just how abysmal a candidate she really is. This is what happens when you have someone running not on their merits, but due to some perceived entitlement that it’s “her turn”, and to hell with the voters.

As I’ve said before, I still don’t see Hillary making it to the Democratic convention. There’s still the e-mail scandal lurking out there, and you just know behind the scenes there’s the fear that between the “High Energy Shock and Awe” strategy that Trump has used against a t-o-u-g-h tough Republican field and establishment that repeatedly and continually pounded him with hundreds of millions of dollars of negative ads and cable news vitriol, and Hillary’s inherent unlikeability as a candidate, that Trump will beat her like a rented mule once it becomes mano a mano.

Oh sure, all you’ll get between now and November from the cable news networks are the polls that say Clinton beats Trump, and in some cases handily. But I would caution taking those seriously, for two reasons: One, Trump has, virtually from the beginning, outperformed virtually every poll that has been taken, and over the past month, outperformed the most recent primary state polling by nearly double-digits. Which tells me there is an undercurrent of Trump support that continues to go unnoticed by the polling organizations. Two, Trump will be running against Hillary not as a Republican (that’s obvious, right?), but as a populist. And if Hillary gets the nomination I think you’re going to see significant crossover from the Bernie Sanders crowd simply on the basis of Trump being perceived as an outsider.

Finally, let me tell you a little story that may be anecdotal, may be significant. Last week, while back in Massachusetts – as blue a blue state as there is – I’m having a nitecap at the Chinese restaurant down the street from where my folks live. The bar at the Wu Loon Ming is a real townie joint, frequented by blue-collar guys and locals where the conversation drifts between the local sports teams and the typical comings and goings among the regulars. The night I was there one of the TVs was on CNN, and there’s something being shown about Trump, and the guy sitting next to me asks me if I’m for Trump. “Absolutely”, says I, “and I don’t care what anyone thinks”. An older guy the next seat down says he’s for Trump as well, but he’d never tell his wife. And one by one the others in the bar all say something similar – they’re for Trump but they’ll never admit that to their family and friends. This, in the bastion of Ted Kennedy liberal Massachusetts.

The reason behind this, I think, is something National Review’s Victor David Hanson wrote the other day:

To get a clearer idea of the feelings of Trump supporters, read the comments section following any mainstream news story that deals with race, class, and gender in politically correct fashion. A stream-of-consciousness litany of his supporters’ peeves, for good or ill, would run like this: The wrong people are in the news. Instead of generals, and small-business owners, and muscular workers, we instead see smarmy smart-asses, the pajama boys and mattress girls of the world of TV, who roll their eyes, wink about a joke only the anointed get, and smirk that what they say could have three different meanings — the Jon Stewarts, David Lettermans, and Stephen Colberts of Smug, Inc. On race, Trump supporters are tired of hearing that black lives matter, while no one mentions that all lives matter. They are sick of seeing protestors wave the flag of the country they do not wish illegal aliens to be sent back to and trash the country they under no circumstances want them to leave. They don’t like getting a letter from an IRS that employs Lois Lerner — a letter that would be ignored with impunity by those who are here illegally, or who run the Clinton Foundation. They are tired of wealthy minorities claiming they are perpetual victims of ill-treatment at the hands of people who are less well off than they. They don’t like hearing from elites that huge trade deficits have little to do with loss of jobs or that cheating by our trade partners is just a passing glitch in free trade. They cannot stand lectures from those who make more money in an hour than they do in a year about their own bad habits or slothfulness. They don’t know what the on-screen savants mean by a leg-tingle or a perfectly pressed pant leg or a first-class temperament or a president as god — and they don’t care to find out. They do not hate political correctness so much as one-sided political correctness, which gives a pass to some to say things that would get others fired or ruined. They don’t want to be lectured that their own plight is part of a larger, healthy creative destruction or a leaner, meaner competitiveness or an overdue restructuring — by those who are never destroyed, rendered noncompetitive, or restructured. And they don’t like to be talked down to by the experts who ran up $10 trillion in debt, ruined the health-care system, dismantled the military, and screwed up the Secret Service, the IRS, NASA, and the VA. Trump is their megaphone, not their solution. The Trump supporters have seen plenty of politicians with important agendas, but few with the zeal to push them through; at this late date, they would apparently prefer zeal without agendas to agendas without zeal.

To get a clearer idea of the feelings of Trump supporters, read the comments section following any mainstream news story that deals with race, class, and gender in politically correct fashion. A stream-of-consciousness litany of his supporters’ peeves, for good or ill, would run like this: The wrong people are in the news. Instead of generals, and small-business owners, and muscular workers, we instead see smarmy smart-asses, the pajama boys and mattress girls of the world of TV, who roll their eyes, wink about a joke only the anointed get, and smirk that what they say could have three different meanings — the Jon Stewarts, David Lettermans, and Stephen Colberts of Smug, Inc. On race, Trump supporters are tired of hearing that black lives matter, while no one mentions that all lives matter. They are sick of seeing protestors wave the flag of the country they do not wish illegal aliens to be sent back to and trash the country they under no circumstances want them to leave. They don’t like getting a letter from an IRS that employs Lois Lerner — a letter that would be ignored with impunity by those who are here illegally, or who run the Clinton Foundation. They are tired of wealthy minorities claiming they are perpetual victims of ill-treatment at the hands of people who are less well off than they. They don’t like hearing from elites that huge trade deficits have little to do with loss of jobs or that cheating by our trade partners is just a passing glitch in free trade. They cannot stand lectures from those who make more money in an hour than they do in a year about their own bad habits or slothfulness. They don’t know what the on-screen savants mean by a leg-tingle or a perfectly pressed pant leg or a first-class temperament or a president as god — and they don’t care to find out. They do not hate political correctness so much as one-sided political correctness, which gives a pass to some to say things that would get others fired or ruined. They don’t want to be lectured that their own plight is part of a larger, healthy creative destruction or a leaner, meaner competitiveness or an overdue restructuring — by those who are never destroyed, rendered noncompetitive, or restructured. And they don’t like to be talked down to by the experts who ran up $10 trillion in debt, ruined the health-care system, dismantled the military, and screwed up the Secret Service, the IRS, NASA, and the VA. Trump is their megaphone, not their solution. The Trump supporters have seen plenty of politicians with important agendas, but few with the zeal to push them through; at this late date, they would apparently prefer zeal without agendas to agendas without zeal.

Trump has no loyalty to the Republican establishment or to the conservative movement. The apparent greatest attraction for his supporters is that he drives crazy those who worship Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. And if the Republican establishment implodes with the Obamism it did not stop, well, so goes collateral damage — and in the process, woe to us all.

Virtually everyone, including Ted Cruz and his supporters, downplayed and underestimated Donald Trump’s candidacy from the very beginning, figuring that Trump’s unwillingness to play the political game would come back to haunt him in the end. And if Trump himself didn’t self-destruct, the media would destroy him for them. Instead, Trump beat the media at their own game, and as a result has seemingly inoculated himself from virtually – emphasis on virtually – anything the media and the Clinton machine and their powerful allies in the media can dig up on him between now and November. But it won’t be for a lack of trying, that’s for sure.

And perhaps Trump ultimately will find a way to self-destruct, but I highly doubt it. Trump may say politics is a new game for him, but he’s been playing it for decades, just as a businessman. More than anything else, Trump is a master at the game of winning, and Americans, as no less an authority than General George S. Patton once said, love a winner. And I’m inclined to believe the general.

One can only hope that Madame Hillary and the Democrats will continue to underestimate the power of Trump.

Filed in: Politics & World Events by The Great White Shank at 02:28 | Comments (0)
May 5, 2016

Here in the Valley of the Sun we hit 100 for the first time this year. Then lots of wind and more dust – it’s only May and we’ve already had several dust events. Meaning, sweep the pool again and plan for another backwash this weekend. Back home in Massachusetts, it’s that traditional period in May where you dread bringing your clubs hoping to get in some spring golf only to encounter persistent clouds and rain for an entire week. Sometimes early in the month, sometimes later, but May can be one cruel month.

I think this is what Robert Frost had in mind when he wrote the following:

“The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day.
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
a cloud come over the sunlit arch,
And wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.”

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 22:07 | Comments (0)
May 4, 2016

Well, that Cruz / Fiorina ticket lasted about as long as a Hillary Clinton coughing spell, didn’t it? I have to say I’m not surprised, for it was actually breathtaking to watch how quickly the sense of desperation crept into the Cruz campaign following Donald Trump’s overwhelming victory in New York last month.

First you had that awkward “joining of forces” with the Kasich campaign – a brilliant move! said the political pundits and hacks on the cable networks. Then you had him picking Carly Fiorina as his VP – a move akin to a baseball manager whose team is down three games to none in the playoffs announcing his seventh game starter. That was bad enough. But then to see Ted on the Sunday cable shows clearly beginning to lose it, and then lose it all together with his blistering ad hominem attack on Trump yesterday, Glenn Beck (whose 15 minutes of fame were up long ago) begging his fans to fast – fast, I tell ya! – for Ted, the once-great Mark Levin losing it all together, and conservative blogs like National Review, Hot Air, Red State, and Powerline all in the various stages of hissy fits, well, you just knew that they knew that Trump was going to romp the field in Indiana and beat the most recent polls by a wide margin.

I don’t feel bad for Ted Cruz whatsoever. At first I thought he was a bright and passionate spokesman for the conservative movement. But then came the debates and his churlish behavior and blatant disregard for his fellow competitors by repeatedly ignoring the time bell. Tracey was the first one to detect a very unlikeable quality about Cruz, and as the campaign went on his act became increasingly tiresome. As a candidate, he didn’t wear going negative well, and I honestly believe that had he stayed positive and simply laid out his platform against Trump’s he would have had better success. But Cruz wore his smarmy, know-it-all arrogance like a cheap suit, and he was in the end revealed for the just-another-Washington political-insider that he and wife Heidi (a Beltway insider if there ever was one) always were. As a result, Cruz was never able to make that personal connection, that “I’m one of you” connection with Republicans, independents, and centrist Democrats that Trump, even with all his billions, was able to make seemingly and easily from the beginning, and it cost Cruz in the end.

Hasta la vista, Rafael.

Filed in: Politics & World Events by The Great White Shank at 10:18 | Comments (10)
May 3, 2016

A bunch of thoughts and comments to kind of bring everything up to date since I’ve been gone.

Surprisingly – at least to these eyes – the Red Sox have turned themselves into a very competitive and entertaining team. Sweeping the Yankees over the past weekend was, as it always is when that happens, sweet. And while their schedule hasn’t been the toughest, you can only play the games you have in front of you, don’t you? Of course, they’ve been helped greatly by that Pablo “Fat Pig” Sandoval’s physical fitness (or lack thereof) and his season-ending shoulder injury, which has enabled Travis Shaw to show everyone that last year’s second-half performance wasn’t just beanbag. And knuckleballer Steven Wright has more than made up for Clay Buchholz’s usual underperforming. There are still big questions about how their bullpen will hold up over the year, but for right now it appears John Farrell (who still doesn’t know how to manage a major league baseball team) will keep his job past Memorial Day – something I didn’t think was possible just a few weeks ago.

While I was back in Massachusetts I got to watch the Celtics playoff series against the Atlanta Hawks. No fan of NBA Basketball, I, but I will admit the Celtics were fun to watch until that last game when they were blown out and eliminated by the Hawks after exhibiting an incredible lack of ability to put the ball through the “ring” (as Ted Cruz would call it – any idiot knows it’s a hoop, right?) on a semi-regular basis.

I’m a big fan of crime author T.J. English. His “Havana Nocturne” is a great read about the Mob and how it lost Cuba to the Castro revolution, and his “Paddywhacked” is a great telling of the rise and fall of the Irish Mob in America. I’ll tell you, those books made the long flights on my last two trips to Massachusetts and two work-related trips to Atlanta and Raleigh, NC feel a heckuva lot shorter. Not to mention Howie Carr’s “The Brothers Bulger”, which was another fine read.

I’d like to think I’m a pretty good judge of political candidates and their qualities, so it’s really hard to believe, looking at Ted Cruz’s campaign, and him as a candidate and a person, that I actually liked him at one time. The man simply oozes sleaze and arrogance. He’s had two years to show the American public that he’s more than a smarmy know-it-all wrapped in the grease and slime of Washington politics and has obviously failed miserably. If I’m going to vote for someone I have to at least like that person at least a little, and there’s nothing – and I do mean nothing – likeable about Ted Cruz.

To that point, while it’s questionable – at least at this juncture – whether Donald Trump can win the White House, it’s damned certain a Cruz / Fiorina ticket would get blown out no matter whom they were running against. Two more unlikeable personalities you are unlikely to find. It’s no wonder they ended up paired together – they’re two peas in a pod.

So, it looks like Tiger Woods might actually tee it up at Jack Nicklaus’s Memorial tournament. Only he knows for sure whether it’s the right thing to do, but I’m guessing Tiger feels that, damn it, he’s a golfer, and if he’s going to hurt himself again he might as well do it on the golf course where his career would be over and there would be no more questions or hemming and hawing about it. I’ve never been a fan of his but I’ll be rooting for him to put on a good showing just the same.

I know I mentioned the other day how enjoyable the Red Sox are to watch, but it’s not as much fun as the fun first baseman Hanley Ramirez appears to be having in embracing his new position. And you know something? He’s doing a fine job of playing the position. I just wish he’d hit more.

Put me down as not impressed with what’s happened to the NESN broadcast booth this year. You know, even if the Sox weren’t much to watch you could always count on an enjoyable listen to play-by-play man Don Osillo. And last year even his long-time partner Jerry Remy picked up his game that had been floundering for the previous few years. Now D.O. is gone, and Remy’s only around occasionally on road trips. And who do we get? Dave O’Brien, who, while certainly capable, exhibits the same interesting qualities as a Cobb salad, and Remy replacement Steve Lyons never shuts up. Makes one wonder what the so-called “know-it-alls” at NESN are thinking.

I know what you’re all thinking: where’s the news about the 2016 Goodboys Invitational. Our Exec-Comm this year seems kind of shy as far as PR goes, so don’t be surprised if some leaks start to spring right here at Goodboys Nation weblog over the next few days. Boys, if you want to know who your playing partner is this year stay tuned to this here spot for some exciting news before week’s end.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 16:43 | Comments (0)
May 2, 2016

Evidently not, judging from the fact no one commented or even bothered to ask where I’d been for more than a week’s absence from blogging. That’s OK – I’m not offended. In fact, it’s good to know this old ball of rock hurtling around the Sun in space doesn’t require any pearls of wisdom from The Great White Shank – or from anyone else, for that matter – to keep it in its orbit.

A good thing, for sure.

But it has been a crazy eight days. Another emergency trip back home to Massachusetts to help take care of my ailing mom (she’s doing much better), a barrage of computer issues resulting from a power surge that occurred while I was gone apparently unbeknownst to, and unimpeded by, our surge protector – which forced not only a replacement of our wireless router, but, because of some mysteriously corrupted drivers, an upgrade to Windows 10 (surprisingly painless). And then, with all the travel, a backlog of outside chores following several dust storms.

But I’m back. Tired, but back. And, frankly, in a lot better shape than “AnnihilaTED” Cruz’s candidacy, which, hopefully, Indiana voters will send packing Tuesday night.

And it’s good to be back.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 22:06 | Comment (1)

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