Last night, as the latest Redskins-related organizational firestorm raged on the Twittersphere, some stark contrasts between the modern media world, and the calmer, more dignified world of my youth were on my mind.
Don’t get me wrong. Upon hearing the latest on the burgeoning scandal quickly christened ‘BJgate’, I made my share of snarky, inappropriate comments. I am an American male after all. If you lob me a pitch, I’m going to swing. So yeah, the current Redskins embarrassment
Historians attribute Missouri’s ‘Show Me’ moniker to U.S. Congressman Willard Duncan Vandiver, who served in the United States House of Representatives from 1897 to 1903. While a member of the U.S. House Committee on Naval Affairs, Vandiver attended an 1899 naval banquet in Philadelphia. In a speech there, he declared, "I come from a state that raises corn and cotton and cockleburs and Democrats, and frothy eloquence neither convinces nor satisfies me. I am from Missouri.
"Why did it all turn out like this for me? I had so much promise. I was personable. I was bright. Oh, maybe not academically speaking, but I was perceptive. I always know when someone's uncomfortable at a party. It all became very clear to me sitting out there today, that every decision I've ever made in my entire life has been wrong. My life is the complete opposite of everything I want it to be. Every instinct I have in every aspect of life, be it something to wear, something to eat... It's often
Forget ‘7 Minute Abs’, I mean, I’d recommend you go with the 6 minute version anyway. I believe there are 7 crucial actions the Washington Redskins must take if they are to revisit their former days of glory and return to a winning tradition.
Let Griffin be Griffin. We’ve heard it before and we get it. RG3 is reckless. He plays with wild abandon. He can’t slide. He won’t slide. RG-Knee. The ‘Pistol’, ‘Read Option’, running threat QB offense is dead. Griffin can only survive
Any child of the 60’s or 70’s knows what I’m talking about. God help you if you skinned your knee, cut your finger, or suffered some other childhood trauma resulting in an open wound. Back then, a minor injury of that sort meant only one thing – Merthiolate. The bright orange hot poker-colored antiseptic liquid was the weapon of choice against infection. And it was a perfect symbol in that era of what we all were taught. If it hurts it must be good for you. Applied directly to a wound, Merthiolate