Peace, Peace, Peace

Can you hear that?  The gears of the NRA are turning, mobilizing for the inevitable and rabid defense of gun rights that is certain to follow the bloodbath that today claimed the life of six Arizonans and critically wounded congresswoman Gabby Giffords.  As we speak, Charlton Heston's cold, dead hands punch through the turf covering his grave.  He staggers toward Tucson.  Moses wouldn't miss this one.

And on and on it goes.

I'm so tired of this.  I'm tired of guns and bullets and bombs and violence and blood and war and death and misery and hate and vitriol and 'the Founding Fathers said this' and 'the Constitution says that' and 'you're a communist!' and 'oh, yeah?  Well you're a facist!'  I'm tired of anchors and hosts and bloggers (yes, bloggers) and talking heads and columnists and bumper sticker commentaries.  I'm tired of Tea Parties and Blue Dogs and debts and deficits and gold standards and death panels and all of the ingredients being poured into the increasingly toxic, bubbling swill that we are force fed every day from the media, our friends, our neighbors, our families, all of us, everyone, everywhere.

It's time to calm down.

I don't want to hear 'I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore.'  That was a line from a movie.  That's all. Take a quick look around the world and I think you'll agree: mad isn't working for us.  Mad makes crazy people do crazy things, like shoot up 18 civilians outside of the Safeway.

nwb

A Message to Arizona, the USA, the World

nwb

Formerly of the NBA, Your 2010-2011 Cleveland Cavaliers

Happier times: a preseason photo-op

I'm not sure what happened to the feisty group of overachievers who beat the Celtics on opening night and ran out to a surprising 7-8 record, but ever since being shellacked in LeBron's return to Quicken Loans Arena, Cleveland fans have been rooting for a shell of a basketball team.  Something happened on that night.  The team's collective spirit was broken, shattered into a billion microfragments that only a total rebuilding can repair.  I mean, the Cavaliers aren't just losing, they are losing in epic fashion, on the road, at home, to good teams, to bad teams.  How bad has it gotten?  Try a season sweep at the hands of the Timberwolves.  Defense has become a myth and ball movement an afterthought to a group that prefers to brick 19-foot jumpers instead of making an extra pass.  Heading into an inevitable blowout loss at Golden State tonight, their record stands at a frightful 8-27.

Surprisingly though, I'm pretty OK with this and I'm looking forward to seeing the team rebuild over the next few seasons.  In the meantime, we are going to have to live with a squad that will be lucky to win 15 games.

Let's run through the lineup real quicklike.

Starters

PG: Mo Williams - His team needs him to put up 20-6 to have a chance of winning on any given night.  I thought he was up to it.  LOL!  Instead, his dagger jumpshot has deserted him entirely and he has devolved into a turnover prone role player who hasn't made a three pointer since November.  His contract has two more seasons after this one.  At this point, if GM Chris Grant can unload him, that would be quite a coup.  Am I being too hard on Mo?  Probably.  His arrival two years ago coincided with the Cavs becoming a 60 win team.  Clearly, though, he is a player who needs to be surrounded by talent.  He will not succeed when opposing teams are able to sag on him.

G: Daniel Gibson - Likable guy.  Winning smile.  Good for an occasional 25 point outburst.  Otherwise, we are watching BJ Armstrong trying to lead a team to the promised land.  Can't pass, can't defend, can't create his own shot, can't make a layup.  Also injury prone.  Current status: injured.

SF: Anthony Parker - It's been hilarious listening to Cleveland announcers try to put a positive spin on this season.  For a few weeks, Jim Chones was going on about how the loss of LeBron James meant that 'the new Anthony Parker' was somehow going to cut loose and start pouring in the points.  The great Euroleaguer is old, slow and, ultimately, ready for the glue factory.  The ineptitude of teammates has required him vacate his normal position and replace LeBron at small forward.

PF: Antawn Jamison - A classy pro who can still put it in the bucket, but cranky knees mean he couldn't guard Joe Tait.

C: Anderson Varejao - Earns the purple heart, but the lone player of real quality has been forced out of position after the departure of Zydrunas Ilgauskas and Shaquille O'Neal.  The only capable defender on the team doesn't have enough juice on the offensive end to deliver any wins.  Major trade asset.  My sentimental side doesn't want to see him go.  Recent cracked cheekbone followed up by timely ankle sprain.

Bench

PG: Ramon Sessions - Probably the quickest player on the team.  Can get to the basket, sure, but he won't hit a jumper if you're pointing a gun at his mother.  Not much of a defender, either.  It's easy to see why bad teams have been quick to give up on this journeyman.

PF: J.J. Hickson - Plenty of talent.  Has the basketball IQ of a medicine ball.  Seems little inclined to learn.  Top move: fumbling the ball out of bounds.

PF: Leon Powe - Slow and slower.  Knees like porcelain dolls.  Currently slated for surgery.  Again.

F: Jamario Moon - Utterly wilted when asked to replace LeBron.  Seldom plays.  Total goofball.  Perfect fit for the Globetrotters.

F: Joey Graham - Journeyman forward who could supposedly defend.  Not so, it turns out.  Second Graham twin to have a cup of coffee with the Cavs.  Second player unable to start at small forward.

F: Jawad Williams - Third player to fail at small forward.  Waived for the second time in as many years. 

C: Ryan Hollins - The smallest big man I have ever had the misfortune of watching.  I honestly would feel more confident with Earl Boykins on the block.  Worst rebounder in NBA history.  Tiny, delicate hands a microcosm of his tiny, delicate game.

PF: Samardo Samuels - Don't bother remembering his name.

SG: Christian Eyenga - Freakish athleticism.  A blown ACL waiting to happen.

PG: Manny Harris - Manny Harris?

F: Alonzo Gee - Alonzo Gee?

Joe Tait - When it rains, it pours.  In his final year as the Cavs' radio voice, Tait's preseason pneumonia has led to double bypass surgery and a pacemaker.

Yes, folks, that there is a team built to lose.  And lose they will.  Let's hope the Cavs can bury the ghosts of draft picks past and trick some free agents into believing that South Beach is on Lake Erie.

nwb

This Didn't Suck

A full recap of our trip to Venezuela is in the works.  In the meantime, please enjoy this picture of me sipping rum while reclining on a comfortable lounge chair at our hotel in Puerto la Cruz.

Oh, and fear not.  What may look like a meager quantity of liquid gold was but the first of many rums I drank by the sea on this day.

nwb

McBone Is Back

At McBone, the rum is never gone.  Here is a picture of me enjoying the latest addition to the McBone family of rum (currently boasting 9 bottles from various locations in the Caribbean), an absolutely outrageous Santa Teresa 1796:

'Ron Antiguo de Solera'  Translation: 'Kick-ass fucking rum!'

God DAMN, that's good.

Aged in French oak for 15 years, it is impossible to imagine a smoother, spicier, more harmonious beverage than this producto de Venezuela, quite possibly the new crown jewel in our glass menagerie.

And yet, this tale was almost one of tragedy.  After an 11-day sejour in the Republica Bolivariana de Venezuela, I flew home solo, leaving my sometimes popular wife in Caracas to spend a few more days with the familia.  Upon opening my baggage, I discovered that the bottle of 1796 we procured had not survived the journey home.  In the suitcase, resting among the shards, was an unapologetic note from US customs.  My bag had been rifled through, re-packed all willy-nilly, and sent on its merry way.  I beheld the shattered remains of the Santa Teresa and I wept.  I wept as I washed the rum out of our clothing.  And then I wept myself gently, gently to bed. 

Happily, my wonderful, beautiful, sometimes popular wife surprised me with another bottle of the 1796, one who enjoyed a much safer flight back to the States.  Tonight, Santa Teresa joins 8 companions on our bar.

The Fellowship of the Rum

Every time we drink, we shall remember their fallen sister.

Happy new year, everyone.

nwb

Shutting the Old Girl Down

This blogger is taking his act (and his sometimes popular wife) down to Caracas, Venezuela this holiday season.  I don't know the extent to which I'll be posting in the dwindling days of '10, so I'll get this out of the way right now:

¡Feliz navidad y un próspero año nuevo!

de sus amigos de

McBone

Don't be a douchebag!

nwb

1918 - 2010

RIP, Rapid Robert

nwb

McBone Mini-Reviews; The McBone Week in Movies

Love and Other Drugs - I came out of Love and Other Drugs thinking 'wow, that sucked.'  Since then, what little affection I had for this farce of a movie has degenerated into a smoldering contempt that will only subside when Edward Zwick's latest effort is lost and forgotten.  For those who just want to watch good-looking actors in prolonged states of nakedness screw the devil out of each other, LaODs is for you.  I'll admit Anne Hathaway and Jake Gyllenhaal make a lively couple, and the film thrives when their Maggie and Jamie are together...alone...and boning.  Anne and Jake, last matched in an infinitely superior film about unlikely lovers, have real chemistry, but the actors can't save this saccharine tale of a Parkinson's victim and her heroic Pfizer rep of a boyfriend who makes it big during the Viagra boom of the mid 90s but still has the decency to stand by his burden of a girlfriend. Ever seen An Affair to Remember?  Rich, handsome fellow condescends to accept a cripple as his life companion?  Same deal here, except it's no longer 1957 and by now we should be expecting more than the same old cheap little tugs at our heartstrings.  Beware the last half hour, when the emotional shamelessness of it all spins totally out of control.

I'm not done yet, because you know what really rubs me raw about LaODs?  The ham-handed attempt at comic relief in the form of Josh Gad.  Whenever the film threatens to get too serious, in rides Jamie's rich, fat, horny, dumbass of a brother, here to save the day with some lowbrow moments.  The part is so ineptly written it would be right at home smack in the middle of Star Wars, Episode II.  One day, long after we have accepted LGBTs as actual humans, the champions of civil rights will take up the cause of the overweight and obese.  Honestly, can we stop making the fat guy the clown?  How about we make the clown someone who is actually funny?  Josh Gad ain't, and neither are his lines.

Whatever.  Boo!  1.5 McBones

Meet the Parents - So crushingly dumb that the only thing that could possibly make it more inane would be to insert those insufferable Hollywood hams Streisand and Hoffman into a sequel.  Earns one point because the holidays have me in a generous mood.  1.0 McBones

The Bond Project: My sometimes popular wife and I will be watching the James Bond movies in chronological order and offering succinct yet cutting-edge insight into the evolving world of 007.

Goldfinger

N: For many, the pinnacle of Bond on film.  So much is iconic here: girl painted gold, Oddjob and his hat, industrial laser zoning in on Her Majesty's deadliest weapon and, of course, Pussy Galore--the coolest, smartest and toughest of all Bond girls.  In his first effort, director Guy Hamilton takes Terence Young's momentum and runs with it.  By now Connery so fully owns the role that no subsequent actor can possibly measure up.  4.5 McBones

A: Pussy Galore is so far the most multidimensional and interesting of the Bond girls, even if she does end up changing her whole plan after a visit from Bond's member.  I sure find it annoying that the non-Bond girls have to die in rather spectacular ways.  Pretty horrible.  2.5 McBones

nwb