Sunday, SUNday, SUNDAY
So, the plan was to head on down Midvale with the bride, each of us with the $15 necessary for all-you-can-drink Mimosas and Bloody Marys at the Pour House to catch some of the bike race. But it's friggin' hot out there and already, the widescreen has brought me enough crazy sports for now. Karma trumping a trainer's arrogance in Big Brown's shocking Belmont no-show. Nadal drilling Federer in embarrassing straight sets at the French. My main man Edward B. (EeeBee) Lea, photographer from the Press of Atlantic City (pictured via my cell-phone camera) getting some HBO airtime when Kelly Pavlik TKOd Gary Lockett in A.C.
And, some more Euro 2008 about to pop on ESPN Classic (if this weekend is any indication, look for Poland to knock off presumptive favorite Germany this afternoon.) And I want to go watch it, so here are some quick hits from the Sunday morning funnies.
Chase Utley gets some NYT love ... "Like most kids, Chase collected baseball cards. One day, Chase’s mother, Terrell, saw him organizing his cards on his bed. Suddenly, Chase announced that he was going to match those players and be on a card someday. He was right."
The Times Style section delves into the story of a married couple that decided to, in the words of (I think) the illustrious Chuck Woolery, "make whoopee" every last night of the year. "Charla apparently had no intention of writing about 'the gift,' as she euphemistically refers to it. She was simply a homemaker and marketing consultant, who in 2006 wanted to give her husband a special 40th birthday present. 'This is something no one else would give him,' she said in an interview. 'It didn’t cost a lot of money. It was highly memorable. It met all the criteria for a really great gift.'” Bra-vo Charla. Bra. Vo.
People still dying left and right in Sudan. People not in Sudan still seemingly don't care. "Sudan rejected demands yesterday to hand over a cabinet minister and a militia commander indicted on charges of crimes against humanity in Darfur." (From the Inky's 'In the World' roundup.) Even worse: Albinos in Tanzania getting murdered for their body parts and skin. I know the one in the DaVinci Code was pretty whack, but my God, what have we become if we enable this to happen:
Vumilia was like many other Africans with albinism. She had dropped out of school because of severe near-sightedness, a common problem for albinos, whose eyes develop abnormally and who often have to hold things like books or cellphones two inches away to see them. She could not find a job because no one would hire her. She sold peanuts in the market, making $2 a week while her delicate skin was seared by the sun.
When Vumilia’s mother, Jeme, saw the men with knives, she tried to barricade the door of their hut. But the men overpowered her and burst in.
“They cut my daughter quickly,” she said, making hacking motions with her hands.
The men sawed off Vumilia’s legs above the knee and ran away with the stumps. Vumilia died.
From the June GQ, a brief piece about comedic-genius-to-be Danny McBride, star of The Foot Fist Way. Dude's getting scads of coverage, but have to love the end quote ...
So you’re doing the Land of the Lost movie with Will Ferrell right now.
Right now. Literally, right before I got on the phone with you, I was just being chased by an army of Sleestaks. They’re just as scary as you remember ‘em.
Also, a piece about Journey's (yes, Steve Perry's Journey) new Filipini frontman and another about a military unit's mission to return all POW/MIAs back to the U.S. Reminded me of a series I wrote in A.C. about Joseph Petrella whose brother Carl of Marmora had been fighting for decades to have remains returned from a WWII crash site. Just to show how long I've been writing, there's barely a trace of the five, six pieces I wrote online.
And, for what might be the last time, a closing shot at Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton's campaign. The gloves are going back on for now, since she's doing the right thing, but a nugget from the NYTimes' post mortem needs as much public airing as possible.
As for Mr. Clinton, he boiled with resentment that a candidate with as little experience as Mr. Obama was given what he considered a free pass by the news media. Yet his tone struck some as dismissive. When Mr. Clinton referred publicly to Mr. Obama as a “kid,” Representative James E. Clyburn, Democrat of South Carolina, recalled in an interview that a fellow black congressman said, “I don’t know why he didn’t just call him ‘boy’ and get it over with.”
In private, Mr. Clinton was making matters worse. On the night of the South Carolina primary, Mr. Clinton called and Mr. Clyburn said he told him to tone down his rhetoric against Mr. Obama. Mr. Clinton responded by calling him a rude name that Mr. Clyburn would not repeat in an interview. Mr. Clinton called back a few days later for what Mr. Clyburn called “a much more pleasant conversation,” but the damage was done. “Clinton was using code words that most of us in the South can recognize when we hear that kind of stuff,” Mr. Clyburn said.