Liddy Hates Jesse

North Carolina Senator Elizabeth Dole made an attempt to honor the late Senator Jesse Helms by adding his name to an HIV/AIDS bill.

Those of us paying attention in the 80s and 90s might remember Jesse Helms as the man who fought tooth and nail against any bill that provided any sort of funding for any sort of HIV/AIDS research, care, education, etc. Jesse Helms believed that the gays deserved the AIDS plague and fuck them for screwing monkeys. Or something like that. It was hard to figure out how that twisted mind of his worked.

So when Liddy Dole added an amendment to the recent HIV/AIDS bill to have it named after Jesse Helms, there was really only one possible explanation: Elizabeth Dole hates Jesse Helms and wants him to spend eternity spinning in his grave.

The bill passed without Jesse's name attached.

I'm Just So Sad All the Time

I don't know how much more I can take. The sadness is all-encompassing. The sorrow unrelenting.

How much longer must I mourn Gerald Ford?

Niekro's Knucklers

kniekro
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Once the Mets lost in the National League Championship Series to the Cardinals, I tried to claim that baseball was dead to me. Apparently, Joe Niekro took me literally.

Having spent my fan-influenced years in the Houston area, I spent much of my life rooting for the Astros. It was only when I became too cool for baseball (in college) that I finally let them (and the sport) go. By the time I rediscovered the pure genius of the sport, I was a New Yorker with a National League history. Naturally, I turned toward the Mets. (I'm probably one of the few Mets fans today, who wishes the Mets hadn't won the '86 World Series.)

Those Astros players of the late 70s and early 80s will always have a reservation at the restaurant of my heart. So it was with great sadness that my sister shared the news that former Astros pitcher Joe Niekro passed away on Friday at age 61. Sis, too, was a big Astros fan (we were "Astros Buddies"!)

Joe was one part of a pair of knuckleballing Niekro brothers. Phil had a longer, more successful career and ended up in the Hall of Fame. Joe was no slouch himself with over 200 wins, and his two best seasons were at the peak of my passion for the Astros.

Rumor has it, when Joe pitched, they turned the AC up at the Astrodome to blow toward the mound. The air currents caused his knuckleball to flutter like a butterfly. He was also once busted on the mound with having an emory board in his pocket, which he was apprently using to doctor baseballs. A little scuff on a non-spinning knuckler can make an enormous difference in its unpredictable trajectory. Nice work, Joe.

The obits I've read have talked about Joe's clubhouse presence and sense of humor. That's not really something I was aware of at age 7. But I loved watching the knuckleball. I think Joe is largely responsible for why I taught myself to throw a knuckleball. I can't throw it all that well, but it sure is fun to try, and every once in a while, I toss a good one, making all the lousy ones worthwhile.

Thanks, Joe, for introducing me to a much under-utilized pitch. Thanks for making those Astros teams so damned close to great (the franchise still hasn't won a World Series). And thanks for making that Astros uniform look so sharp.

Rest In Party!

My Uncle Walt was always the life of the party. For my time in Columbus, Ohio, however, he's in the role of death of the party.

Walt pretty much ruled. He taught my sister how to make a martini when she was five, so that he didn't have to get up to refill his glass. If you made him go get it himself, he made such a production of getting out of his chair, that you usually broke down and got it for him anyway. He traveled with bowling ball bags filled with liquor. At a cousin's wedding a few years ago, he mixed me a drink without asking me what I wanted. When I apologized and told him that I'm allergic to alcohol, he looked at me horrified for a second before shouting, "Life's not worth LIVING!"

The only thing in Walt's life debatably more sacred than cocktail hour(s) was the Sacred itself. Walt was an incredibly well-respected theologian who taught in Lutheran seminaries for decades. His politics were hard-line Democratic, and I can think of few people who accepted social change over the course of a lifetime better than Walt, from feminism to gay rights. The War in Iraq caused him genuine heartbreak.

I don't want to imply that Walt didn't have his flaws. He did. Boy, did he. But I will be eternally grateful to Uncle Walt for two of the more significant events of my life. First, he gave a beautiful eulogy at my dad's funeral. Second... My wife and I asked Walt to stand in for my father and bless our marriage, in what was otherwise a secular ceremony. Walt managed to do that beautifully, as well, and did it without mentioning God, which we didn't even request.

Since I've always intended B&E to be more of an anger and laughter destination, rather than an overly personal experience about my innermost feelings, I'll sign off with this...

While I wait for my mom and sister to arrive, I am sans car. When I asked the hotel's front desk where I could get food within walking distance, the woman looked at me blankly for a moment (similar to Walt's expression upon learning I can't really drink), then winced and sent me to East of Chicago Pizza. Columbus is, in fact, East of Chicago. But the pizza they were serving wasn't Chicago-style at all, and best I can tell, the national chain website bears little resemblance to the creature I frequented. And I say "creature" because, for reasons I still haven't figured out, the decor was Jurassic themed.

A Death Worth Noting

cook
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Over the weekend, Robin Cook died while walking (that's "hiking" to us in the U.S.) in Scotland.

A long-time Labour Party leader, he resigned from the government in 2003 to protest British involvement in the Iraq War.

The Guardian's obituary summarizes his career nicely, and his resignation speech demonstrates the power of conscience, when so few politicians seem to have one.