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Three-Dot New Year

She said ‘my brother, you know, he used to have this friend ..” – Dwight Yoakam, “Second Hand Heart.”

2020 – holy moly. Getting to the stage where track-covering seems relevant. I’ve got about 30 old journals that need torching before scrubbing all traces of this web-blog from the Internet. Not sure if this is a web-blog or website. Either way, would hate for these musings to be circling the World Wide Whatever indefinitely, like early digital cave drawings pinging out into the blogosphere. The last thing this world needs is confirmation that assholes have always existed, bucking evolution. Was never a secret anyway; some of those early non-Turin shrouds include evidence of hand-buzzers.

Watched the Golden Globes Sunday night for the first time in a decade, perhaps due to interest in The Irishman and seeing the sunglasses Patricia Arquette borrowed from Nick Cage. Enjoyed Ricky Gervais in select moments, including his unheeded cautioning of blowhard celebrity types inclined to lecture the masses on climate change and voting. Nobody, not even those of like-mind, tunes in to this show for edification by way of genetic crap-shoot winners. Didn’t matter though, and they blathered on. Michelle Williams, pregnant, opined on how career-altering her past pregnancies might have been minus the right to choose. Russell Crowe, absent, updated on Australian fires and their cause. Tim Allen, not particularly liberal, said something benign and soaked up the room’s hatred. In the end Leo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt came through by basking in their handsomeness and reminding all what they’ve been anointed to do.


In local sporting news (“sports” or even “sport” to our tea-swilling British brethren) the 49ers are back in the playoffs after a long stretch of ineptitude. Apparently all they really needed was another paisan at quarterback (sure-footed Mormon royalty notwithstanding.) And Jimmy Garoppolo has been just the ticket. Jimmy G is also exceptionally handsome, in the grand tradition of his particular position in this particularly American sport. You don’t have to be Darwin to spot the starting quarterback at any local high school .. just look for the kid standing several inches above the others, minus the neanderthal slouch of his offensive line and basking in overt female-attention without any particular effort on his part. Also in the tradition of the Great Joe Montana (hallowed be thy name) Garoppolo seems to have keen enough football instincts while maintaining a slightly clueless air about him. Yes, the ability to orchestrate modern offensive schemes is requirement, but you don’t want your QB to be an over-thinker. That same effortless manner that attracted top-tier cheeserettes in high school should signal his leadership capabilities in the pros.

There was a great Sports Illustrated profile on Montana a long while back, after San Francisco had traded him to Kansas City where he continued to excel. The writer was expounding on what made Joe Cool able to both perform and remain calm in the clutchest of clutch moments. As example he used Super Bowl XXIII when, down by three with three minutes left, Montana looked up from the huddle, distracted by something in the stands. “Hey isn’t that John Candy?” he asked befuddled teammates, before leading them down the field to victory. The article noted a similarly pressure-fueled moment in the Chiefs’ huddle when, in the middle of directing another game-winning drive, he diffused tension by calling out one of his wide receivers for possessing notably large ears. This, the writer reasoned, was what he did — saw the potential for others to buckle under pressure and let them know it was just another day at the office. A fine theory but also one debunked when, several days later he caught up with Montana in the locker room doing the same thing .. making fun of this guy’s ears. Apparently it was something he did all the time; the game-winning drive truly was just another day at the office for Joe. Jimmy Garoppolo has a long way to go before being mentioned in these Montana conversations, but he has nailed the nascent stages with a 21-5 record and early career penchant for dating porn stars. The big ear thing will no doubt come with time.


Has the whole world gone nuts?” This is either a) a particularly relevant question as we enter the new decade, b) something that old guys say, or c) a & b. I’m going with “c” but keeping the percentages to myself. All about ‘enthusiasms’ to quote the increasingly quirky DeNiro as Capone in ‘Untouchables.’ He then punctuates said point with a baseball bat, which may or may not be overkill. Pitchers and catchers on the horizon, Yoakam still touring North America and the Niners playing meaningful football into January. Why do I keep looking for that Louisville Slugger shadow on the table cloth?

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