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To Whom Are You Drinking Right Now?


starfish

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You know, tomorrow, March 4, 2013, it will be eighty years since FDR became president. I'm raising a glass to the New Deal, and hoping the hundreds of millions of people who have been better off because of it will be succeeded by hundreds of millions more. Salut! Here's to you, Mr. Roosevelt!

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You know, tomorrow, March 4, 2013, it will be eighty years since FDR became president. I'm raising a glass to the New Deal, and hoping the hundreds of millions of people who have been better off because of it will be succeeded by hundreds of millions more. Salut! Here's to you, Mr. Roosevelt!

x 10.

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To my cousin Steve, a sweet, sweet soul gone too suddenly and too soon. Even though we only met once (!) he nevertheless granted me "most favored cousin" status, sending me regular messages of encouragement, love, and concern. As he wrote of another departed family member, "Another pebble dropped upon the pool: his waves will be long felt before they are lost."

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To my friend who is is dying of cancer. Dammit.

And on that note of pure suckitude: To Valerie Harper, who played Tallulah Bankhead in Looped at the Lincoln Theater--much to the delight and entertainment of several of the ladies on this site, including the late Mrs. B. Cocktails at the Gibson after the show and the never-to-be-forgotten sight of Nutty Buddy and Mrs. B determinely headed for Ethiopian food on a weeknight at 1 am. Good times.

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To Stompin' Tom Connors, country/folk singer, patriot, and unofficial poet laureate of Canada, who passed away yesterday. He's best known for songs such as "Sudbury Saturday Night", "Bud the Spud" (about a potato), and, most famously, "The Hockey Song" ("Hello out there, we're on the air, it's hockey night tonight...").

I raise a toast as I'm watching two hockey games courtesy of picture-in-picture and NHL Center Ice.

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To my brother's alma mater, JMU, for their win in the CAA tournament.

And to the district manager at Bailey's, for calling me back this morning after I left feedback late last night. It's always nice to see upper management jump on what was a bad situation and take care of it when lower management fails.

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To my friend who is is dying of cancer. Dammit.

I'm tired of being in this fucking club. Again. And to surviving the single worst hour I've had in years of dealing with hit after hit of shit that no teenager should have to go through.

And to my niece who at the age of sixteen months knows how to say Cheers.

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To Gordon Cosby, founder of Church of the Savior, and one of the most remarkable Washingtonians of our time. He not only rethought what church can and should be all about, he made a tangible difference in the lives of thousands among the neglected populations of DC--a true inspiration to believers and nonbelievers alike.

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To my friend Todd Breitenstein, who lost his battle with cancer this weekend. I'll not just have a drink in his memory, but I'll roll some dice, too - he and his wife Kerry started the game company Twilight Creations and I've played tons of their games, especially their "headlining" first game "Zombies!!!".

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To Glendora-six years later. This hot chocolate is for you.

And to Ellen because she would expect to be toasted. We will drink the good wine before the new wife comes along. May you be lucky number 7 and end the streak for a while.

And to yesterday because it was a good day.

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I decided Zimmerman was old and injury prone and didn't keep him on my fantasy team this year. In fact, I failed to buy any Nat--up to and including Tyler Clippard whom I adore. Apparently all our vows to raise the kid as a Nats fan went out the window when the Cardinals got good again just as he was discovering baseball.


On topic--drinking to my broken washing machine. We had a good run. Letting Mr. BLB deal with the repair people because I don't want to develop a drinking problem.

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I decided Zimmerman was old and injury prone and didn't keep him on my fantasy team this year. In fact, I failed to buy any Nat--up to and including Tyler Clippard whom I adore. Apparently all our vows to raise the kid as a Nats fan went out the window when the Cardinals got good again just as he was discovering baseball.

...

:blink: Eegads! There's so much wrong with that, I don't know where to begin!

And, back on topic, I think I need a drink now after reading your post. Will drink to your baseball salvation. :D;)

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Ebert, indeed.

Funny, I always felt for Siskel when the two critics disagreed; Ebert seemed a bit of a dismissive bully and I tended to side with Siskel anyway.

But then, I ordered the DVD of Ozu's "Floating Weeds", listened to Ebert's commentary afterwards and was impressed. What really did it for me, though, was his recommendation of The Decalogue by Polish film director Krzysztof Kieslowski which I never would have heard about or rented were it not for Ebert's praise. Haunted by those films, still, years later. Started to read him more frequently. Literate. Compassionate. Courageous. Fond of Anna Thomas. Fun to read. Never thought I would miss anybody's tweets, but I do.

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Roger Ebert. He and Gene Siskel were the first critics I had ever heard of. Damn...

PS: I think the folks who say "Fuck Cancer" are right on the money.

Ebert, indeed.

Funny, I always felt for Siskel when the two critics disagreed; Ebert seemed a bit of a dismissive bully and I tended to side with Siskel anyway.

But then, I ordered the DVD of Ozu's "Floating Weeds", listened to Ebert's commentary afterwards and was impressed. What really did it for me, though, was his recommendation of The Decalogue by Polish film director Krzysztof Kieslowski which I never would have heard about or rented were it not for Ebert's praise. Haunted by those films, still, years later. Started to read him more frequently. Literate. Compassionate. Courageous. Fond of Anna Thomas. Fun to read. Never thought I would miss anybody's tweets, but I do.

"This is the best show on television!" my dad would proclaim. He was talking about "At the Movies, with Siskel and Ebert." My father was a movie buff like no other. Especially when he became frail in the last few years of his life, he'd go to the video store every day, and rent 3-4 movies. He watched probably over 1,000 movies a year during that time.

And he *loved* Siskel and Ebert, and so did I - because of him.

I miss my father, and I miss Siskel and Ebert. Right now, I'm into the final half-hour of "Wait Until Dark," which was made in the year Ebert became "famous" for his bold predictions about "Bonnie and Clyde." It's scary as *hell* and I wish I had my dad here in the house with me. :(

---

ETA - That was one hell of an ending. Goodbye, sir.

Edited by DonRocks
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To Ian Cameron G., born March 31, 2013, a five-day old source of extreme sleep deprivation and extreme moments of transcendent joy.

I look forward to the day I can share a beer with him, rather than simply drinking a beer in his honor.

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