The Mets Collective Blood Type is O-

Anyone who's been paying even remote attention to baseball will know that the Mets are hemorrhaging. They stopped the bleeding on Sunday, only to pick the scab on Monday. They've been bleeding ever since.

The Phillies aren't exactly taking advantage of their golden opportunity, and the Mets are still up by two games with five to play. But if the Mets had even played mediocre baseball this month, they'd have clinched the division two weeks ago.

It's been bad enough that I'm not even trying to watch any games. I did a Mets news blackout over the weekend. It's just bad for my blood pressure.

Ladies and gentlemen (baseball and non-baseball fans alike), enjoy this photo of the most attractive couple in Britain, Matthew MacFadyen and Keeley Hawes:

It Takes Some Murders...

Some readers may recall the fond days at B&E when I would update this lovely site almost every day, sometimes more than once a day. But then I went and got myself a real full-time office job. (Can you believe it's been a year already?)

Anyway, Blackwater is a topic worthy of B&E, and in my old life, I would've addressed this several times over, months and months ago. Even before the Iraqi government (such as it is) banned Blackwater for unprovoked murder without taking steps to actually ban them. Also amazing about this past week is that there are allegations about Blackwater smuggling weapons into Iraq.

Jeremy Scahill is The Nation magazine's resident Blackwater expert, and has been writing actively about this privatization of the US Army since 2005 at the earliest. I can't recommend this series of articles enough (more than the ones above, which are really just for reference, in case you're not up on the events involving Blackwater):

This one offers a fantastic overview (its role in Iraq, the political connections, the lack of governmental oversight).

If you think that Kenneth Starr has been sitting tight doing nothing since he so determinedly got to the bottom of the blowjobs in the Clinton Oval Office, you'd be missing that Ken is now defending Blackwater in some wrongful death suits.

Blackwater is a "security firm." No one needed security more than New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.

Here's some video! Jeremy Scahill gave testimony before Congress, as an expert on Blackwater, having researched the company for years, which culminated in his book, Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army.

And here he is on CNN after the "ban."

I implore you to take some time to get to know Blackwater. They are yet another reason to oppose BOTH the war itself and its management. The future implications of the war's management is terrifying, embodied by Blackwater.

Queenie the Cow

Apparently, there was a cow loose in Queens last night.

Look, I know I grew up in Kansas and all, but she's not mine, so stop asking.

TimesDeselect

I got a bit upset when the New York Times introduced TimesSelect back in 2005. Turns out it wasn't such a good business decision after all. After two years, as of midnight tonight, all the features and op-eds will once again be free. And here's a little link because the Times will no longer charge you for it.

Apparently, there's more money to be made from advertising than from charging readers.

Oh, sweet advertising, you make the world go 'round.

For You, Virgil

Once again, the Mets have gotten swept by the Phillies.

Or, in non-baseball fans may prefer...

The Boys in Blue can't beat the Scum in Scarlet.


Come on, Mets. Take care of business. Enough screwing around.

An A'Phillies' Heel

In the past month, the Mets have consistently beaten everyone they've played. Except the Phillies.

If you look at the standings, the Phillies are, in fact, the only team that the Mets "have to" beat. The Phils are in second place, chasing the Mets, and the Mets have had a couple of prime opportunities to put the Phillies away. Then the Mets choke.

Last night was no exception. The Phillies won in the 10th inning, thanks to two Mets errors.

I'm not all that worried about the Phillies, because they seem to squander whatever opportunities the Mets hand them, playing sub-par baseball against the worst teams in the league.

Still, it's like that annoying little brother who won't leave the room when his older sister wants to make out with her boyfriend. I would know. I was that little brother.

But I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that my streak continues. I attended Wednesday evening's Mets/Braves contest, which the Mets won 4-3. It was my tenth game of the season, and the Mets have won all ten.

I should really start attending Phillies' games.

A quick note to regular readers of B&E who bleep over the baseball postings:
I'm not above pandering. I will do my best to give you something non-baseball-related to enjoy within my baseball posts. First: Brad Pitt as Achilles.

Sonic Assault

As I've mentioned, I'm on many political email action lists. Recently, I got an email from James Taylor on behalf of the Natural Resources Defense Council. He was decrying the Navy's use of mid-frequency sound waves, which kill whales. Says James:

The Navy's sonic assault on whales should be stopped immediately... I am so distressed by the acoustic onslaught the Navy is now waging beneath our planet's oceans.

Well, James Taylor, I'm distressed by the acoustic onslaught you're waging at concerts across this country. Your sonic assault on us should be stopped immediately.

Hoo-ah! BANG! Zzp-POW! Wocka-wocka-wocka!

Yes, I signed the damned petition.

It's Bloody Brigadoon!

So the missus and I are flipping channels, enjoying the late evening Saturday television options (East Enders on WLIW is a particular joy).

Channel 13 breaks out the classic films on Saturday nights, and tonight they hit us with Brigadoon. Oh, Brigadoon. Where have you been my entire marriage?

The missus has the look of incredulity plastered on her face and finds the "Scottish" accents to be incomprehensible. Every Scottish stereotype comes out in the first ten minutes (except for the heavy drinking and haggis eating), and watching such a film with the missus is utter bliss. She's even complaining about the quality of the music.

Yes, dear, sweet Brigadoon. You are a triple threat of Scottish offensiveness -- bad accents, bad stereotypes, and bad music. And there's nothing I love more than watching the missus get all fired over attacks on her Scottish roots. Especially when I'm not the one getting her fired up.

Man, it's brilliant. They're not even trying to do proper Scottish accents. The Hollywood studio system really cut the corners on the dialect coaches.

Campaign Corruptings

Now that Fred Thompson's officially joined the Race for the Presidency, I hope the candidates finally start campaigning. It's almost like no one wants to be president. Come on, people! Make speeches! Debate! Raise money! Increase the rhetoric!

During a speech in which Fred got himself into some trouble by calling Osama bin Laden a symbolic figure more than anything else, he said something I thought was even crazier. He maintains that public support for the War in Iraq in on the rise. Well, I maintain that the only thing on the rise is his utter delusion. We've suffered nearly two full terms with a president living on his own planet. That's probably enough for now.

Meanwhile, I hear a lot of passion around this Ron Paul fellow. Granted, he's the only Republican candidate not joining in the Stephen Colbert debate "George W. Bush: Great President or the Greatest President?" But if Ron had any real chance of winning, I'd want to make sure that his supporters have a true understanding of where he stands on the issues. From what I can gather, he's running to eliminate government altogether. That worked pretty well in New Orleans.

Smarmy Mitt Romney is feeling the heat. Hollywood Fred can dress just as sharply as Mitt, and Mike Huckabee seems to be the candidate most likely to get Religious Right support. So Mitt's claiming that the only way they can be viable candidates is for them to raise $20 million this quarter.

More than any other election, popular support is being tied to money raised. Which is ludicrous. Four years ago, Howard Dean unexpectedly raised a boatload of cash in the primary through a groundswell of support from the "netroots." He proved that a shitload of passionate supporters can give $20 a pop and compete with corporations.

Short memories. Somehow, now, when candidates raise a lot of money, people assume it means popular support. Until the Deaniacs, it didn't mean anything of the kind. And yet this is unquestioned truth in today's race. Hillary, Rudy, Mitt, and Barack raise more money than God, they must have enormous "grassroots" support. Horse. Shit.

Hillary raised a shitload of money because she's exceptionally well-connected in DC fundraising circles. Mitt raised a shitload of money because he's an exceptionally rich man well-connected in rich circles. Rudy raised a shitload of money because he's an asshole who's done a remarkable job exploiting 9/11 for personal gain. Barack raised a shitload of money because... well, maybe -- just maybe -- he's got legitimate claim to passionate grassroots support.

And now Mitt publicly ties his few rich connections to popular support, in an attempt to derail the candidacies of Fred Thompson and Mike Huckabee.

Why do I care? It's not so much that I like Fred Thompson or Mike Huckabee. I would never vote for either. It's just that linking more money than most of us can imagine to viable candidacies is inherently corrupt, and our political system is the lesser for it. Fuck you, Mitt.

Up Close at the US Open

The missus and I spent a good chunk of our Saturday at the US Open Tennis Tournament. With a Grounds Admissions pass, you can wander from court-to-court (except at Arthur Ashe Stadium, where the popular kids play) and watch as many matches as your heart desires.

As I may have mentioned, the missus has become quite the fan of Andy Murray, her fellow Scotsman, and next tennis hope for a UK victory at Wimbledon. He is but 20 years old, and his ranking is currently #19. Andy was scheduled to play match #4 in the Grandstand.

When the gates open for the day at the Billie Jean King USTA Tennis Center, a mad rush occurs. Grown men and women sprinting in their Fila and Ralph Lauren outfits to the various courts to get prime seats for the matches of their choice, in spite of the staff people shouting, "Do not run!"

I was wearing flip-flops, but the missus, who had already spent a day at the US Open and knew what to expect, had on her trainers. We had a plan. Look for her in section 15 of the Grandstand. The gates open and off she went.

Pre-teens handing out free samples of Polo cologne cleared the fuck out of the way of the sprinting adults.

The missus survived several preppie elbows to get what must have been the best seats in the Grandstand. And even though our tickets allowed us to wander at will, we opted to stay put. Once you get seats like these, you don't move.

Preppie vultures waited to pounce on our seats, anytime one of us went for food or bathroom visits.

Hats off to the missus, who decided that she liked me better than famed tennis coach Brad Gilbert (currently offering his expertise to the Great Scottish Hope Andy Murray), and rejected his kind request to sit next to her for Andy's upcoming match. Brad Gilbert. Crafty bastard using his coaching as an excuse to horn in on my wife. Nice try, buster. Here's Brad Gilbert (in the white cap), having failed to seduce my wife.


We saw some great tennis. Nadia Petrova, current #7 seed, was upset by a Hungarian teen called Agnes. I can't remember her last name, but Hungarians were chanting, "Aggie! Aggie! Aggie!" throughout. She looked pretty good, this Agnes.


And a woman who must've been Nadia Petrova's coach scared the living daylights out of us, when she suddenly hunkered down in the aisle next to me and muttered advice in Russian to Nadia during the match. This is, officially, against the rules, and one of the lines judges gave her a glare that would've melted a human. This woman was not human. She was way too intense to be human. Still, she couldn't scare Nadia into winning.


We also saw a five-set nail-biter between #10 Tommy Haas and Frenchman Sebastian Grosjean. Haas was ultimately victorious. But we were really impressed with the sportsmanship of both these guys. Both conceded points to the other when they thought the lines judge and umpire blew calls to the other's detriment. They applauded each other's nice shots. It was the kind of match that reminds you why John McEnroe was so shocking when he played.

We were also so close, we could see that Tommy had, at some point, arthroscopic knee surgery. But I didn't get a picture. Instead, here's a totally mediocre picture of Grosjean, about to wipe the sweat off his face within a couple feet of us.



We saw another women's upset after that: #11 Patty Schnyder lost to Another Woman I've Never Heard Of. That woman could hit like hell, but might be a bit of a head case. She kept looking to her father for approval. He rarely gave it. Except when she won.

We had evening plans we were already late for by the time Andy Murray came out for his match. So we watched him lose the first set (of a match he ultimately lost) to a Korean player called Lee. Lee really had the vociferous support, as the Asians just cheer differently than the preppie Americans.

Murray's a bit of a head case, too, methinks. He called himself a fuckwit under his breath a few times after blown shots. And he always seemed to be thinking of the previous bad shot, blown call, poor service instead of concentrating on the current point. Ah, well, he's just a kid. Give him time.


I also caught a ball in the stands during the Haas/Grosjean match. I waited for them to ask for it back, but then the umpire announced it was time for a ball change. We gave the ball to our friend's girlfriend, whom we'd never met and who prepared this delicious meal we arrived nearly two hours late for. It was only fair.