Lost in the sauce: traveling along the greener pastures
By BILL O'CONNOR< | June 6, 2011"Sith, get one of your boys to cross the Mekong. Bring back a couple of shopping bags full of pot."
"Sith, get one of your boys to cross the Mekong. Bring back a couple of shopping bags full of pot."
"I am become Death, destroyer of worlds."
As Brian Johnson lay motionless just off the clay of the pitcher’s mound Saturday at the Southeastern Conference Tournament, one thought reverberated through my mind.
Recently I was watching an interview of Dave Chappelle, who has faded from the public consciousness after fleeing the burdens of being an American cultural icon.
Mike Lupica shoots from the lip. Pat Dooley strokes the back nine, and Bill Simmons writes 10,000-word mailbags.
Impending doom arrived May 21, 2011.
I gulp a frosty mug of Pabst, wink at Gerry and ask, "Hey Hank, when are you going to start serving blacks in here?"
Softball teams around the country should be taking notes. Coach Tim Walton has built a superpower in Gainesville.
Since assuming office in January, Gov. Rick Scott has taken every step possible to pander to corporate interests at the expense of Florida's working class.
"Wait ‘til you try this. You won't believe it."
Do you ever wake up in the morning, look in the mirror and declare to the world how remarkably awesome you are?
The Philadelphia Phillies sport R2C2. The Miami Heat roll with Three 6 Mafia. The No. 6 Gators baseball team has Lou Pearlman and his throng of boy bands.
As I was placing my weekly necessities on the conveyor belt at Sweetbay one morning, I glanced at the magazines begging for my attention in front of me. Of course, I noticed the emaciated, indeterminate women on the covers and was forced to wonder, "Are these people even real?" Actually, with today's photo manipulation, they often are not.
Spring football practice is over, so they tell me. And the Orange and Blue Debut came and went unspectacularly.
Editor's Note: Across the world, millions struggle with addiction to alcohol and drugs. These are the stories, as best as he can remember them, of one of those compulsive personalities.
They're really obscure. You've probably never heard of them.
About two years ago, I decided to do what millions of college-aged kids have done since the days when Jesus and the Dirty Dozen toured as a traveling family band: print out a resume, put on the greatest pseudo-smile Monopoly money can buy and apply for a job.
In a month’s time, Titletown U.S.A. — or just Gainesville as the rest of the country refers to it — could be drowning in hardware once again. Florida athletics are at an all-time high. Any number of teams could bring a championship back to The Gator Nation.
"Hey man, aren't you from New York? A plane just hit the World Trade Center."
During my four long years of college, I developed a least favorite question.