After 11 years, and after milking my ’97 Mercury Mystique for almost all it was worth, I purchased a new car. I got a Toyota Camry LE. It was pretty much exactly what I set out to get. Between the earthquake and Hurricane Irene, the car actually got partially damaged in a small hail storm. The roof had very small dents in it, but the dealership fixed it first.
The Screaming Squirrels won the roller championship on Thursday. It was our third overall but probably our most clear-cut win.
Back in 2003, we had to play a best of three series against the Hurricanes. We easily won the first game, lost the second, but the third was never played due to Hurricane Isabel. Technically, we split the title (with two current teammates).
We won in 2005, but the Hurricanes were upset (1-0 I think) in the semifinals, and they were considered a much better team. After that season, they moved up a level. We were happy to win the title but couldn’t help but think that it would’ve been much tougher had the Hurricanes won.
This year, we only had trouble against one team – The Whale. They lost in the first round. But they were also a lower seen than us, so we didn’t feel too bad when they got knocked out. Plus, we beat the top seed in the finals, 3-2, after going down 2-0. We had lost to that team the first game of the season, then beat them later in the season.
It was the third roller hockey title for the Screaming Squirrels. We also won three in ice. Back 2002, I won a ball hockey championship with three of the other Squirrels on a different team.
This was made my Irene Hudson of The Gardens Ice House in Laurel, Md., for the memorial service of Michael A. O’Donnell.
By no means do I claim to be the first to write about this, but I would like to bring this important issue to the attention of the Gunaxin audience. The Smurfs, those lovable, three-apple sized creatures that we used to watch when we were kids, are card-carrying Communists. Before you laugh this off and resume smurfing for porn, hear me out.
The Smurfs live in a commune. They share everything they own. No Salesman Smurf, no Consumer Smurf. Each Smurf has a job, and does only that job. No Career Change Smurf, no Unemployed Smurf or Welfare Recipient Smurf. No Smurf owned property or tried to profit. These are traits of socialism, people!
The most popular Smurfs: Hefty, the KGB soldier, and Handy, the hardest worker in the village who doesn’t earn any more than the others. The Smurfs portrayed in negative light: The useless Greedy, the obvious homosexual Vanity, and Brainy (who was clearly modeled after Leon Trotsky… the resemblances speak for themselves. How many times did Brainy get kicked out of the colony?).
Then there is the villain, Gargamel, who wants nothing more than to turn the Smurfs into gold. Greedy capitalist, and a criminal, at that. Let’s not ignore that he is an anti-Semitic caricature of a Jew. Big nose, hunched over, greedy… (but they forgot to draw his kippah)… And let’s not forget his cat named Azrael, which sounds strangely similar to Israel, but actually means angel of death. Jews were persecuted under Stalin’s rule, in case you didn’t know.
In a society of hundreds of male Smurfs, there is only one female – Smurfette. Forget Communism, folks, that’s 1984-style persecution. Then there’s this theory… Smurfs is an acronym. Could it be… Socialist Men Under Red Father?
Let’s face it… the Smurfs are exactly what Communism, in theory, should be, and it was on full display for us kids during the Cold War of the 1980s.
One last thing to drive the point home… The un-elected Papa Smurf, with his Karl Marx beard, wore red. COMMIE!
For more information, google “Smurfs and Communism.”
Not too long after the news of singer Amy Winehouse’s death hit the Net, bloggers got busy noting her age – 27 – and other musicians who died at the same point in their lives.
It’s easy to pass off death-at-27 as a coincidence, but the fascination with it was enough for the book, The 27s: The Greatest Myth of Rock & Roll to hit shelves a few years ago. Of course, if it wasn’t for the demise of a certain trio in 1970-71, this “27 Club” would have never come into existence.
Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, who died in Sept. and Oct. of 1970, respectfully, and Jim Morrison, who passed away in the summer of 1971, solidified this as a trend among musicians. Never mind that at least eight – including Rolling Stones guitarist Brian Jones – died before those three, but none of them had the same degree of popularity as the Jimi-Jim-Janis (assuming I’m not underestimating the cultural impact of ragtime musician Louis Chauvin, who died in 1908). Some years later, we lost Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain in a drug-fueled suicide (assuming you don’t believe the Courtney-killed-Kurt conspiracy theories) at the age of 27, something that implanted a never-forget-where-I-was moment into Generation X’s collective memory and made him the fourth noggin’ on the Mount Rushmore of the 27 Club.
The other 30 or so musicians who passed at 27 – including three rappers who were shot in the 90s – don’t rise to the level of Morrison, Hendrix, Joplin, Cobain, or Winehouse.
Wait… Does Winehouse belong in this group? Not the 27 Club, but the Jim-Jim-Janis-Kurt group. Fans worshiped those other four. Winehouse, may she rest in peace, is memorable to me because she made me dry-heave the first time I saw her photo (sure, Joplin did too, but Joplin gets a pass for her vocals on “Piece of My Heart”). Winehouse was more famous for her tabloid exploits than her music, and her song “Rehab” was probably the only one non-fans may have heard (wasn’t overly impressed).
But…. BUT… let’s talk legacy. Death at 27 is always tragic, no matter what. One thing fans do with musicians is judge their careers, noting the glory days and their artistic downfall. Perhaps Cobain’s best music was behind him, and it was all lame stuff from there on, for example. I’d venture to say that Winehouse died in her prime, and, had she lived, even the tabloids would eventually tire of her.
Well, I’d say most of us would rather fade away than burn out, but what puts a stamp on cultural impact and legacy more than dying tragically in your prime? While Winehouse’s catalog won’t rise to the level of the Big Four, her death will likely give her a new level of respect and gain her fans that she wouldn’t have had otherwise. Sure, life outweighs THAT (at least I think it does), but the newfound enlightenment should be duly noted. Maybe if I died, I’d finally win Gunaxin’s Post of the Day.
Rest in peace, Amy. You grossed me out in life, but may I learn to appreciate your talent and extraordinary vocals from here on out.
