Second Gen (2003-2016, 2016- )
Just to prove my previous post, via the Flea, I would ask you to consider the following:
Alan
Weather Loach
Agility
7| Strength
3| Stamina
8Battle Rating
18Origins
Alan was created by a scientific experiment gone wrong
On the subject of games, via Stephen, this ping pong game is amazing.
Addictive Game Alert! Addictive Game Alert!
And it all about Spidey – via Master Flea Boom Baster.
Training my children to aspire to industrial park design.
Chanting “Osama, Osmama” as you are cleaning the clock of the USA 4-0 in pre-Olympic soccer? Mexico, really. That is rude:
GUADALAJARA, Mexico, Feb. 10 — Few of the young Americans had experienced such grown-up soccer antagonism, with blowing horns creating the sound of a throbbing hive at Jalisco Stadium and 60,000 people jeering with the sting of hostility.
The shouted vulgarities began as the United States under-23 team appeared for warm-ups on Tuesday night. The name of each starter was heckled with collective booing. The national anthem was derided with shrieking whistles. The Mexican team, meanwhile, was greeted with fluttering confetti, waving flags and the urgent rhythm of drumbeats.
In the 26th minute, the throng began chanting “Osama! Osama!” at the Americans, but they appeared inured to such taunting and eager for a game of beautiful desperation in an attempt to reach the Olympics. And then, out of nowhere, it all fell apart. Defense had become a vulnerability for the United States in this qualifying tournament, and its opponent deftly pounced on this weakness…
“Soccer is our national sport,” Carlos Placencia, 21, a publicist, said. “We cannot let the Americans beat us at our game.” Diego Gonzáles, 23, a graphic designer, said it would be important for the collective Mexican self-assurance to defeat the bigger, richer country to the north.
“This game is a way to show them that we can win,” Gonzáles said. “It doesn’t matter if it is the United States or another country. We need to show what Mexicans are made of.” Both Placencia and Gonzáles said that anti-American chants of “Osama! Osama!” were meant in large part as a joke, even if a tasteless one. “We make fun of everything,” Gonzáles said. More seriously, he added: “We think the United States exaggerated its reaction about terrorism and security measures. We criticize the reasons why America goes to war.”
From The New York Times today.
Today’s column from Damien Cox hits the nail on the head – something big is up:
Those who cling to strains of discredited orthodoxy, suggesting that the NHL doesn’t need to change one single thing about its game, are now clearly the minority. The voices calling out for a faster, more offensive NHL are becoming deafening. In addition, the NHL faces a strike this fall that most think will kill at least one season and sweep away more than a few teams.
All in all, there is a very good chance that what will be played in the NHL in 2005 or 2006 will be a very different game than we see today. That would be a good thing. There are too many clubs, too many games, too few stars and too many grinders. It is now difficult to associate with a sport – even in a market like mine that boasts two top teams within two hours drive – when the games devolve into roller derby tactics along the boards, debates whether eye protection is for sissies and the thrilling spectacle of yet another dump into the corner. For years, I watched at least a full game on the TV once a week, listened to a couple on radio, bought the kids souveniers and caught at least one game live a year. I was a pretty good customer, I would have thought. No more. I’m bored. My remedies?
None of these things will happen, of course, because the NHL fears change. Bigger ice surface and short seasons means fewer tickets sold. Fights attract a core audience of NASCAR crash droolers. Five on five is too familiar a pattern of play. So, until the strike, I’ll watch the odd game. When the strike is on, I won’t care that much. And when it is back with 2/3’s of the teams, I’ll probably watch the odd game.
Here in Canada we have had ann annual game recently of Formula 1 racing threatening to pull out all activities unless we change our anti-tobacco ad legislation. Now I read they are threatening the EU as well:
“The EU is strangled by unnecessary and excessive regulations,” said [F1 head Max] Mosley.
“If you are involved in something that is at the cutting edge you’ve got to question if this is the right place.
We are involved in something cutting edge…umm…cutting out the lies of death merchants. People are free to smoke – away from me if you please. Just don’t teach its virtues to my kids.
Was up in Ottawa overnight last night at brother Dougie’s. Played a little 1980’s Coleco and a little 1960’s Munroe, if you know what I mean. The old sets are getting a little tired but I still smoked him. He and me are hockey junk nerds and I took the opportunity to scan a few things including this dandy Golden Seals patch just like the ones I wore on my jeans jacket in elementary school. Made at Voyageur Eblems, New Hamburg, Ontario between Kitchener and Stratford and sold at every Canadian Tire front counter in the mid-70’s.
Took the kiddlies to the Canadian Museum of Civilization – and again wondered why there are not regional Federal museum branches with this stuff moving across the land rather than playing to pretty empty houses in Ottawa. Up on the fourth floor there was a pretty neat-o exhibit on the 1570’s summer iron ore mining expeditions of Martin Frobisher, namesake of my cat, to Baffin Island. [Did anyone call Martin “Frobie” and scratch his belly?] Exactly the kind of small exhibit that could move from province to province every 4 months or so on a tour.
Bag of real bagels for lunch.
All his kids recovering from the blackout of 2003 blackouts. Only grandkids 1500 km to his west. Behind my mother’s voice on the phone, Dad can be heard shouting out his only real concern: “Who are they playing?”
Stenhousemuir, as it turns out, where they, the mighty Greenock Morton, won 2-0 away from home. Arsenal won, too, over an outclassed Everton – despite Arsenal being down a player after the reappearance of Sol Campbell’s boot’s desire to practice proctology. Sol is the best defender in England but has had a bad run of involuntary arse kicking lately. Caught the game on Rogers Sports Net. Oddly, here in Canada we can get more soccer than most anywhere: four live or nearish English league on two channels, German live, French live, Argentine, Spanish, Brazilian and Dutch on tape delay. I may spend another $2.99 a month this winter to get TeleLatino to pick up the Italian league.
Not just a slave to the tube, the August When Saturday Comes showed up yesterday and I am working through a small stack of fitba books from amazon.co.uk. One, Out of His Skin, is about John Barnes – one of my favorite players from the days of TSN’s Soccer Saturday – and the crap he had to put up with from his own Liverpool fans for having the gall to be both black and good at soccer. Even just 15 years after he entered the top level of the English game, it is amazing to this that this was the case watching the diversity of players on Arsenal. The implicit racism of the game is now seen more in the lily white composition of the fans in the stands. If you get ESPN Classics Canada, you can see Barnes play on certain Friday evenings in a few of the late 80’s early 90’s English FA Cup Finals they show from time to time. He taught me everything I know about crossing from the outside – everything I know…not what I can do.
CBC.ca says “according to the newspaper report, Roy’s house in Littleton, Colorado has been for sale for the past couple of months. Jacques Demers says he packing it in. If so, it is the end of something that should be noted.
I have never liked the Habs, mainly due to living through the ’70’s liking the Leafs and Red Wings listening to the divine right of Les Canadiens. The Colorado Rockies is another team that should have won many more Stanley Cups in its own mind. But I have always liked Roy.
In the spring 1986, I came back from Europe with $2,000.00 still in my pockets with no other excuse than the playoffs were on TV. I could have gone to Spain or Italy. Instead, I went night after night to rec rooms to watch the playoffs. Glad I did. He talked to his posts, wiggled his head like his helmet was too big and won the last all Canadian finals. Europe is still there, I understand. 
My favorite memory, however, was from 2 December 1995 when, as described by one web wag, “Habs coach Mario Tremblay left Roy in the game for 9 Detroit goals before yanking him. When Roy finally skated to the bench he screamed at Tremblay and the team president Ronald Corey, vowing never to wear the sweater of the Montreal Canadiens again.” You gotta like it when the greatest goalie ever to play for the Habs does that.
