The only game that matters...

I made a promise to clear my mind of all that ails me and get into the holiday spirit even though the world is being dragged into the crapper by doe-eyed, liberal, Kumbaya singing… Oops sorry. Seriously, it’s time to swing into the Christmas season and there is no better way to do just that then to talk about the only college football game that matters: Army vs. Navy.

I’m a little unnerved that Goarmysports.com is hocking Eagle Bank Bowl tickets at this juncture. I know they have to, but getting the Army team there means a victory over Navy and that is far from a certainty. I’m saying this because if Army were to lose to Navy Saturday, I don’t want anything to detract from the accomplishments the team and coach Ellerson have achieved this season. Army beat opponents they weren’t supposed to and are a team clearly on the rise after a long gloomy decade or so.

Navy has done well this year as well scoring a major victory over 2010/11 Army opponent the most hated Notre Dame. I cheered for the squids during this one as I do any other game they play with the exception of the one played this weekend.

My thirst for victory over Navy is as strong as ever and Army is a salty bunch this year. They’ll have to leave it all on the turf Saturday, but I think they can and will win.

So GO ARMY BEAT NAVY*!

*Bunch of lying and cheating scoundrels every one of’em!!!

He took a walk in the woods and he never come back...

As one who is prides himself on not to be beholden to celebrity tabloitardness (sports, musicians, etc... beyond mocking them of course) I have to admit this… I’m actually disappointed in Tiger Woods.

I’ve been a fan since I picked up the frustrating game of golf myself many years ago. I really thought that he was the rare uber rich/famous athlete who had it together on this front. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told my seven-year-old daughter while watching Sunday golf coverage, “Watch this guy, he is one squared away dude”. I won’t dig a knife into him about his infidelities, I won’t stop cheering for him to win tournaments, but it’ll be different now as I'm sure it was for those who once held John Edwards in high esteem. I thought his folks did such a good job raising him that he’d avoid falling into this trap. Since he wisely waited until he was older to get married (I know, that doesn’t guarantee anything), I thought he’d gotten all this out of his system. I thought the amazing mental toughness that he exudes and leverages to such perfection on the course carried over to his personal life.

I think he’s about to find out how his life is about to change for the worse as any father who has been faced with the possibility of not being allowed to see his kids any time he wants to has. His money, fame, and athletic prowess will become meaningless to him if it hasn’t already.

Is Tiger Woods Pac Man Jones? No, but nobody ever set the bar high for Pac Man, certainly not me. I assure you that this is NOT intended to be a holier than thou thing. I’m far from perfect as is Tiger. We are all flawed. I don’t know Tiger personally, but I have had friends that I’ve discovered have/were cheating on their wives and the disappointment I felt with them is similar to what I’m feeling now with this ordeal, just on a smaller scale.

As for the publics’ “right to know”, My brother and I were arguing about the whole thing last night and he insisted that Tiger should get out in front of this by making all kinds of confessional statements to which I say bullshit. We don’t have a “right to know”, what we have is a “right to ask”. If this inaliable "right" was what blew the lid off of Tiger’s dalliances, well, that’s life in the United States, but I know if I had been publically caught doing something so reckless to my family, I’d give two shits about anything, or anybody else except those family members I hurt. Frankly, I don’t care who or how many girls he stepped out on his wife with, one is too many and he’s going to pay dearly for it. I sincerely feel bad for his wife, she seems like a nice gal.

I don’t know why guys insist on thinking they’ll get away with it, especially famous ones. The rules are the same for all us men: If you don’t love your wife anymore divorce her and get on with you life and let her get on with hers. It sucks having to go through with it all and you better be prepared to suffer no matter what, but that’s how it is. Holding on to your dignity is what you get out of it. Falling prey to saline enhanced, club hopping, bubblehead’s just comes across as weak and terribly embarrassing whether you’re a famous golfer or a regular Joe.

Veteran's Day 2009...

In my brother’s Veteran’s Day post on The West Point Skateboard Gang blog he mentions reading Bill Mogan’s book “Son’s of Slum & Gravy” and acknowledges that many of my fathers classmates did not make it home from Vietnam. He goes on to speculate on what his/our lives might have been like had he not returned from his tour there. I can pretty much say with certainty that our lives would not be as rich had the unthinkable happened. I remember first thinking these thoughts when I first visited the Vietnam Memorial in Washington DC. Shortly before Christmas that followed my visit to The Wall, my father was reconnected with his Battery Commander from Vietnam who passed along some photos, one of which depicts the very moment my brother speculates on in his post.

My father was severely wounded in Vietnam after he kicked a trip wire setting off some buried explosives. We were all very young when it happened, but he did recover and return to us thankfully. For whatever reason, there was a combat photographer with my dad’s unit that day and he snapped this glorious photo. Aside from its family significance, it is really quite stunning in it’s composition. The line of ghostly soldiers with those forlorn facial expressions trailing off into the clouds. The photo was taken moments after the helicopter took off with my wounded father onboard. When my Mother showed it to me for the first time, she asked with the wisdom of ages, “Where is the man who belongs to that helmet?” That of course, is my father’s helmet in that soldiers grasp and that photo represents to me our family’s defining moment. A snap shot of what could have been, and what was to be. What if? A twist of fate?

With so many of you here in my Facebook circle and so many other friends being current and former service members, I’d like to offer this personnel story to you as a token of my appreciation for your fine service to our great nation on this Veteran’s Day. Many thanks to you all from the Phillips family.

Hail Alma Mater Dear…

Sitting here at my desk this dreary Monday morning, I get the uncanny feeling that a bunch of aliens came down in a space ship, abducted me, performed experiments on my brain, and dumped me right back here in my chair. I’ll try my best to tap out my recollections of events of the last 72 hours with my hands still afflicted with a bit of the ole shakes.

After a prefect flight and uncharacteristic early arrival at Conan O’Brien’s favorite airport, I lugged my golf clubs and bags up to the tram that took me out to the rental car lots where I was to find out upon my return I inadvertently snaked some other dude’s car and stuck him with my POS sub compact (sorry random dude). Friday golf being rained out not withstanding, this bit of luck was to follow me the rest of the weekend and may very well have been contagious. For the first portion of my stay I was the guest of Ms. Fairy Godmother’s and her lovely daughters who only grow more impressive with each passing visit. They treated me like a king during my stay and I can’t thank them enough for putting me up. It was great to see them all for the brief time I was actually there, but promise to get back with the family in tow very soon.

While golf might have been a scratch, Friday was not a wasted day by a long shot. After breakfast at The Park Restaurant and a quick tour of all points of interest on post, I met my long time friend Rod Wilson for lunch at the West Point Officer’s Club. Conversation was heartily pleasant, and despite the rainy weather, you could feel that familiar West Point football weekend vibe that only those who have lived there know. It’s just part of what makes the place so special and drives my desire to one day return on a permanent basis. After lunch, Rod was gracious enough to give me a tour of the new library (simply magnificent building especially when lit up at night) and use his DoD credentials to shop at the Cadet Bookstore. We went back to his place for some sofa chat, share a couple of beers with his wife, and catch up with their son Tyler who is fastly becoming THE lady killer of Highland Falls Middle School.

The evening was spent in the company of long time family friends the Fishburnes (both Senior and Junior contingent the West’s) at the Army sprint football game (formerly called the 150 lbs. league). What is just as impressive as watching Mark’s team go 4-0 with a win over a favored Penn, was watching Holly get her FOUR kids, her house guests, plus a ton of tailgating gear, AND me into her minivan in a matter of ten minutes for the ride down to Shea Stadium for pre-game tailgate (that’s right, tailgating for Sprint football Friday night!). Cell phone in her ear talking to her mother Pat, putting rain coats on the kids, walking the dogs, being a gracious host to her out of town guests, etc… No wonder the Army wants her there at West Point. She could teach the cadet’s a thing or two about rapid deployment in stressful situations.

Mark West's sprint team is quite a sight to see. He runs a balanced offense that makes very few mistakes and a defense that punishes an opponent's backfield for stalling to think for even a microsecond. It was a close one and the weather was lousy through most of it, but victory would be Army’s in the end. While the sky’s were clearing and as the final seconds ticked off the clock, I was again drenched in that West Point pride and humility as we walked onto the field to congratulate Mark on the win. He and his staff coach a hellva game. Sprint football at West Point is a great game to watch and I would highly recommend it to anyone in the area.

After a game like that, it would be easy to think that that same momentum could some how be carried over to the next day’s Div 1A match up against Southeastern Conference Vanderbilt, but as any long time Army football fan knows, this thinking is wrought with traps and foibles that will have you chomping antacid tablets like popcorn after the final gun goes off. That is precisely why there is no better way to prepare for an Army football game than to be invited to join the Fishburne clan for their pregame tailgate. Why you ask? Is it the pleasure of their company and the way that they treat all guests like family? Is it because of the fantastic food that is bountiful, or perhaps the location itself at the foot of the Lusk Reservoir dam not 50 yards from the stadium gate? It is ALL that of course, but the real reason is they figured out a long time ago that the only way to dull the pain of a decades worth of Army losses is ply oneself with enough booze to not remember any of them. AH HA!!! I say to all you Navy and Air Force fans and general Army football haters. THAT would not be the case on this particular Saturday.

I passed by Col. (ret.) Fishburne’s place on my way to the beer store at 0830 (that’s 8:30 AM to the non-military readers) to see if I could be of assistance setting up tents at the tailgate site and found Gus where you can always find him at that hour on game day: sitting in a lawn chair in his garage, smoking a cigar, and drinking one of his famed big gulp sized bloody Mary’s (see Army game prep above). He waved me off with the “no rain” call and I went on to the store, filled a banana box with ice and case of beer, and headed up to the site to be joined by all shortly after 0930 and two beers consumed by your humble narrator.

About 30 minutes later, we were joined by the motliest of motley crew to ever over indulge and skip a college class: Dennis Bulger, Bitchin’ Richie B Berardi, and John “Stain” Lally. After having moved around the country all my life, I’ve managed to either maintain or rekindle most of my relationships with my friends from just about everywhere, but must admit to neglecting those amongst my St. Thomas Aquinas College days a bit. That ended this past weekend. My friends were as funny, smart, and engaging as they were when I last saw them 20 years ago. While they’ve all gone on to great success in their own lives individually with families, careers, etc… I was relieved to discover that they certainly did not forget how to consume massive quantities of beer in a very short period of time and before the hour of 11:00 AM.

We all took to our usual seats in Michie Stadium as we last did two decades ago which goes something like this: fake looking at our ticket stubs and sitting in random empty seats right on the 50 yard line until booted by by actual ticket holders, lather, rinse, repeat. We watched my beloved Army team hang on to a much bigger Vanderbilt for most of four quarters. The Black Knights held Vanderbilt to a tie field goal from the red zone during their last drive as the final seconds ticked off in regulation play. Army won the toss and wisely elected to let Vanderbilt go first on offense in overtime play. I began chucking those before mentioned antacid tablets into my mouth one by one like peanuts as Vanderbilt easily move the ball inside Army's ten yard line right before on third down they ran the ball into the end zone as the visitors side of the stands erupted in cheers. But WAIT!!!… there seems to be some confusion on the far side of the field. The officials have signaled that the Vanderbilt player fumbled the ball over the goal line and recovered it himself. Replay confirmed it, touchBACK Army! Army takes over on the 30 and as typical in situations like this, promptly loses 6 ½ yards in three plays. The guy who missed a game winner last week in front of a homecoming crowd from 30 and change is trotted out to kick a 40+ yarder at which point I’m ready to just gobble the whole god damn roll of Tums in my hand all at one time. The kid’s kick bounces off the left upright and almost hit the cross bar on the way down before finally tumbling to the turf. IT’S GOOD!!! Only one option remained at this juncture (I think my buddy Kevin back home knows what comes next), one that is preserved for the rarest occasions only, and that is to jump the wall and join the merriment on the field which is exactly what we did. After joining the Corp for the playing of the Alma Mater, it was time for me and my band of jolly good fellows to saddle up and move our base of operation to Rockland County for the commencement of the college reunion activities. So with hoarse voices and increasingly squinted eyes, we bid a fond farewell to the Fishburne tailgate crew. On behalf of me and the boys we cannot thank you enough for having us and hope our juvenile behavior doesn’t exclude us from doing it again sometime soon.

It didn’t take long to bump into long lost fellow St. Thomas Aquinas alum while checking in at the hotel. As with my reconnection earlier with the three guys, one after another, smiling face after smiling face, greeted us at every turn. I’ll be honest here, I really thought this get together would, despite the best of intentions, be fun, but ill attended based on my involvement in past like minded events. It’s an occurrence as rare as an ice age, but I was actually wrong. With all credit due to the dedicated organizers, Billy Vanson, Carey Wazaney, and Maureen Gallagher, as I’m certain all who attended would agree this thing was a massive success. Billy, Carey, and Maureen with crystal clear intuition knew that all that was needed to attract a big crowd of aging former STAC dorm students was a metric ton of alcohol, parsed with great food, 80’s hair metal music cranked to eleven, and a late hour closing time. Check, check, check, and check. I think the only bad vibe I got came to me in a nanosecond of sobriety when I realized how much better everyone else has held up to age compared to me.

Once the official party ended at midnight, most of us moved directly to the hotel bar which, much to the dismay of the bleary eyed bartending staff, was forced to stay open another two hours or so to accommodate us. After nightcaps back at the room over an iTunes driven crap and bull session the night came to an end at last with guys sleeping in chairs chins on chest still clutching their last half empty beers (I sort of remember the glowing clock display reading 2:30 AM).


With a hangover that reduces it’s suffers to a Milkshake Grimace like idiot stupor, a number of us fellow alum ate our fill of Sunday brunch buffet, funneled some coffee down our throats, and said our goodbyes to each other. As I drove down the Palisades Parkway wondering why I ever doubted for a minute making this trip, I was thankful to my wife for green lighting the whole event for me at a time when fear of possible pending unemployment and economic uncertainty is running at an all time high in the Phillips house. She knows me well enough to understand that there is no distinction between my family and those whom I call my friends. Let’s make sure it’s not 20 more years before we do this again.

Big thanks again to Mary Jo Blackmon, Rod and Karen Wilson, Holly and Mark West, Pat and Gus Fishburne, all the wonderful guests at the Army football tailgate, Billy Vanson, Carey Wazaney, and Maureen Gallagher. It was a weekend I will not soon forget.

“I am not a number, I am a free man…”

I read in the sports section today an article about Jon Richt, son of Mark Richt, storied coach of the hated University of Georgia Bulldogs football team. According to the article, after completing his freshmen year at Clemson Jon transferred to a small Div1AA college, Mars Hill College in Western North Carolina, where he now starts as quarterback. As I read the piece, I recalled reading an article last year about him and his dad’s trip up to Clemson where Jon had been recruited to play football. Jon’s stated reasons for wanting to make such a move were attributed to what he says were self discovery and realization, mostly that he just felt that the big school environment and lifestyle was just not to his fitting. Some will say that he just chickened out when faced with the monster that is a Div 1A football program, but having been down that road myself, I don’t think so. I’d say 19 year old Jon Richt seems to have the maturity and knowledge of himself that I lacked at that age.

Perhaps my folks knew what I didn’t, but let me figure it out on my own anyway. After getting my feet wet and doing pretty well with the whole college thing, I couldn’t wait to transfer to a big university. I had visited a few friends who were attending colleges of various sizes and simply figured that as far class went, they were all the same and no different than what I was experiencing at the community college level. My time at the University of Maryland certainly changed my mind in a hurry.

I’m sure there were many who did their best to brace me for the change, certainly my folks, but I must have closed my ears to it all. I was used to attending classes in which discussion was par for the course and integral part of every session, dialog that was encouraged by virtually all my professors at the community college level no matter what subject. Those who know me are familiar with my zeal for conversation (i.e. I talk a LOT), but at that point without any other point of reference I just thought that this was how it worked everywhere. I always sensed that my instructors used conversational engagement as a tool to simply keep us students awake during class.

At Maryland I was thrown for a loop. Gone was ANY dialog with ANY of my professors unless I wanted to make an office appointment to see them (impossible since grad students chewed up most of their published office hours). Impossible since lectures were in classrooms with hundreds of other students. No, section meetings with auxiliary grad students was what was supposed to replaced the interaction I must have taken for granted at my community college. Don’t get me wrong, there were a couple of grad assistants who took a real interest in the teaching aspect of their duties (History and English specifically since teachers are what these folks were more than likely going to be doing for a living), but it was easy to see that most were doing the job as a way to pay their tuition and simply dialed it in. Despite all this, thousands of kids get their undergrad degree in this environment. They adapt and by reading and teaching themselves the subject matter they succeed.

Following my exit from that behemoth institution, I finished my degree at a small liberal arts school about twenty minutes North of Manhattan. Campus life wasn’t really any different than Maryland (girls, beer, music, sports, etc…), but I was back in classrooms where I was able to converse with the teachers and my grades reflected the change for the better. That’s just the way I learn: I talk it out (much to the dismay of some of my classmates on occasion). I LOVED debating my journalism professors openly in class (especially when they’d spout partisan invective which they did a lot). I’m pretty sure they enjoyed it too given the number of disinterested floaters who shared the classroom pretending to be students. Perhaps some would rather listen and take notes, me I’ll take engagement any day of the week.

I look back on my short tenure at a big university and remember the better of those times, televised football and basketball games, thousands visiting the campus for these events and other things, but from a student perspective I also remember feeling like a number too. It took a year and a decent amount of my dad’s hard earned capital to discover this reality and what worked best for me.

I hope my kid is as smart as Jon Richt was and makes a decision on where to attend school based on what works best for her (cough, cough West Point, cough, cough). Given that a degree will probably cost as much as a mortgage on a moderately sized home, she may not have the luxury self discovery like I did.

Animals have taken over...

This is one of the reasons I didn't want to get a dog.

Here's Molly the Dachsund, or Lunchsund (Lunch Hound in the German derivation) making herself comfortable around my neck on the couch. Maybe the dog just likes me right? WRONG. It's far more sinister a plot to steal Pringles from the hand that feeds her. Watch...

Reaches in and steals the chip...


Cleans the evidence from the front of my shirt while I munch on air.

What gall.

Then we have Fiona who, just about everyday this week, refuses to leave the kid alone to do her homework.

I can't believe I feed these two varmints.

No, I'm the dummy, No you're the dummy, No, I'm the dummy...

The problems we are experiencing with the political discourse in this country all lead back to fringe elements in both parties. They get the most press because they are the most vocal. “Fringies” are the most vocal because they see problems great and small as major disasters and catastrophes and nothing short of radical solutions are demanded. Neither party’s rank and file do a good job of criticizing their own fringe elements. The media however, does an excellent job of using the polarization factor to drum up what? You in the back… That’s right, RATINGS. Afterall, what’s more news worthy than citizens screaming at each other, politicians, police, etc… What’s the effect of this? You, next to the girl in the purple sweater… Right again, it promulgates a false assimilation of party centrists to their associated fringe elements. That is, if say you're for Obama’s healthcare bill you have tea and cookies with Ward Churchill regularly, if you oppose it you take your Earl Grey with Eric Rudolph. Lets looks at the last 24 hour news cycle…

The President was out in Arizona looking to drum up support for his healthcare plan. What did he say? Were there any questions put to him that he answered effectively/ineffectively? We don’t know, why? Because some nutjob carried an assault rifle to the rally outside in order to “make a point”. Barney Frank held a town hall meeting last night and so far from what I’ve read and seen in the MSM this morning is that some moronic questioner pulled the tried and true Hitler card.

I have no problem stating that I am not in favor of the President’s plan to overhaul healthcare by creating government supplied insurance available to all for a couple of reasons: first and foremost, as a nation we simply cannot afford to add another $trillion to our national debt at this time. It is far too much in an extremely weak economy that is trying hard to recover. We must get unemployment back down to 5% before tabling anything such as this monster. Second, I honestly cannot see adding yet another huge social program to the menu the Fed currently offers without overhauling and returning these existing programs to solvency FIRST. Now, many of you can offer me good reasons for the President and the Democratic majority to push forward despite these reservations of mine, but the ones I’ve heard so far simply don’t trump my two major concerns IMHO. I don't hate Obama, I'm not screaming at anybody, it's just my opinion based on facts known to me. I also can’t figure out how these two posits of mine could be considered ‘Hardline’ by anybody. The strange thing is that there are MANY folks that, based on my above stated position, will instantly and assuredly assume no difference between me and the guy who brought an assault rifle to the Obama town hall meeting. This is what has to end my friends, because it’s going to get ugly if it doesn’t. The result will be a further erosion of rationality.

There are countless examples of this false assimilation that a perpetuated every day and it sickens me. I was raised a Catholic. I don’t practice any particular brand of faith at the moment, but It would be revsionist to deny that the Catholic moral compass taught to me by my parents is what gives me my center today. I can say with honesty that, despite my youthful transgressions, it has served me well. Do I have issues with the Catholic Catechism? Yes, you bet, too much to address here, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to bite my tongue when someone makes a statement like, “All Catholics are gay hating assholes lead by pedophilic priests…”. I have friends and family who are of various devotion to the Catholic Church and I can tell you that a statement like that is the furthest thing from the truth. Are there rabid anti-homosexual elements in the church? Yes, some. Pedophile priests still? Probably a few. But by actually thinking the whole is the sum of the fringe element's thinking is simply wrong.

Abortion is another one that seems to bring out the worst in people. I support a women’s right to choose. Circumstance depending, I don’t think that an abortion should be a procedure that is as easy as it is now to procure, specifically underage women. I think it is a serious decision to make and worthy of considerable weight by parents of pregnent kids and the kids themselves. Even with these caveats, I cannot tell you how many times after making my pro-choice stance known has the dagger of fringe element assimilation been tossed at me. All of a sudden I’m a godless hippie without a grasp of consequence or personal liability. Ditto for Marijuana legalization.

What is worse is that there is more being lost by our inability to criticize our fringe elements and making these “know one, know them all” assumptions. What we are missing are the good ideas that go unconsidered, ignored, and at worse, shat on simply on account of their origin. Yesterday, I somehow found myself reading an op/ed piece in the New York Times written by the CEO of Whole Foods (I’d never heard of the guy prior). He was offering what I thought were sound alternatives to the Obama healthcare plan. I don’t know whether any or all are actually practical or not, but they seemed worthy of consideration at least. When I clicked over to one of the many liberal blogs I read daily, the author of the first post that came up was calling for a boycott of Whole Foods by what he referred to as, mostly liberal customer base, and demanded the removal of the guy from the board of directors. A good friend on Facebook reiterated the same sentiment when I mentioned the article. I was relieved to see a few other liberal friends defend the guy’s right not only to voice his non-insulting, non-threatening opinion in a national newspaper, but said they would continue to shop at his stores despite disagreeing with it.

All big policy issues are complicated, can’t we all admit this fact? I just cannot understand how nobody nowadays seems to be able to admit that they have reservations about policy being created in their own camps, or god forbid, change their mind about anything. Whatever my guy proposes is bulletproof, whatever the other guy proposes as shite. I recently visited my brother and his wife who live on a rural road quiet a distance from any neighbors in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. As we sat outside in the quite of the night together, it occurred to me that, despite being a staunch proponent of gun control, if I were living way out here with my family amongst the trees and wildlife I would more than likely own a firearm for protection against wild vermin and the criminal element (especially after hearing my sister-in-law’s tale of killing a copperhead snake that week and seeing a big black bear not far from their place). I would certainly learn how to use it and hope to never have to, but I’m pretty sure I’d have one if I lived out there. Own a gun where I live now? Not a chance.

I thoroughly condemn the fringe elements amongst conservative minded people and ridicule them often. The clinic protesters, creationist morons, and homophobes. People who take assault rifles to a public meeting with the President in attendance are assholes not worthy of attention beyond ensuring they don’t do something stupid and hurt someone else. People who refer to this US President or any other, including the last one, as “Hitler” or make comparisons to “Nazi” policy can join them too whether they’re an ignoramus citizen at a public meeting, or the speaker of the house. Enough with the Hitler/Nazi bullshit. In turn, I condemn the fringe element amongst liberals who have no concept of accountability or consequence. Who get violent and destroy property during G8 summits and cry “Give Peace a Chance” at the same time. Who dismiss and demonize ALL those who work hard, earn a good living, and are financially successful as if they’re all crooks like Bernie Madolf, and those who chase military recruiters off of public campuses.

Why don't we start taking MSM outlets for what they really are: pot stirring ratings whores who never fail to add their little “sky is falling” nuance that does nothing but queue the Pavlovian response from the fringe element and the ignorant. It’s time we shake our heads of the dizzying effects of the 24 hour new cycle and start listening and worry less about whether our thinking is in line with the mob.

UPDATE:

Boy, it didn't take long to for a shining example of MSM's BS tactics. Take a look at the following MSM peice...



The video that accompanies the dialog is the same that I've seen on many other stations. During the discussions, Contessa tees up the race card just like she's been taught to do in her freshman TV journalism classes, and fellow African-American MSNBC corospondant smacks his drive striaght down the fairway. "Whites are angry about a black president", "We'll see an attack on the president...", and the best of them all, "This is definately part of that". Here's the punchline... What these two ding-a-lings don't know because MSM has carefully editted all video shot at the Arizona town hall meeting of the gun toter is that the guy carrying the assualt rife is an African-American himself. See for yourself here...

When will it end.