Monday, December 31, 2007

Joe Klein: Worst Writer EVER

Tacoma, WA -

Along with about fifty million other people, I've had enough of that shitbag. Although all of the Elite Media is predictably piling on Huckabee because he is poor and from the country, Joe Klein does it with more baseless elitism than ANY ONE, this time citing his podunk-ness by way of an unfamiliarity with monstrous press gatherings.

"a gazillion cameras, nearly a hundred reporters, certainly more than Huckabee has ever seen in one place in his life."

Fuck him. I am actually going to take that as a compliment for my man of the people, Mike Huckabee.

Of course, he goes on to predict a downfall.

"That sound you hear rumbling out of Des Moines appears to be a monumental implosion."

I can't wait until Huckabee proves Klein wrong. Did I mention that he used that same article to mention that he was near the guy who filmed the ad? Ohh, you're so important. Shut up. As much as I miss New Hampshire, I sure as hell don't miss the damned elite media.

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Unprecedented

Tacoma, WA -

I am taking arguably my first ever published swipe at my boy Frank Rich today. Frankie, how are you gonna take off your last column before the Iowa Caucuses? We need your bullshit fury now more than ever. I'm calling you out.

While I'm at it, as establishment fear-mongering candidates like Clinton and McCain rack up the Granite state newspaper endorsements like so many butterflies in a scared voter's stomach, I implore my readers yet again to ignore the power plays of the quasi-elite media. Here is a clip from the above linked piece from yesterday's Post at in even in Nashua.

Addressing more than 100 supporters at a VFW hall here Saturday, Clinton used the strongest language he has so far in the campaign to describe the threats facing the nation, making an oblique reference to the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, and saying that the "most important thing of all" in selecting a nominee is the question of who could best manage unforeseen catastrophes.

"You have to have a leader who is strong and commanding and convincing enough . . . to deal with the unexpected," he said. "There is a better than 50 percent chance that sometime in the first year or 18 months of the next presidency, something will happen that is not being discussed in this campaign."
50 per cent, huh? You gonna cite that, Bill? Or are those facts in Clinton's undisclosed First Lady papers. I guess, as Ben Smith points out, Nader's right after all. They're pretty much all the same.

My condolences to all those non-playoff NFL cities out there.

Week 17 NFL Picks

Week 17, the Swan Song

New England over NY GIANTS (I was indisposed all day and couldn't make this pick on time, my apologies)
CHICAGO over New Orleans
Seattle over ATLANTA
Detroit over GREEN BAY
CLEVELAND over San Francisco
Cincinnati over MIAMI
PHILADELPHIA over Buffalo
Jacksonville over HOUSTON
TAMPA BAY over Carolina
NY JETS over Kansas City
San Diego over OAKLAND
Minnesota over DENVER
Pittsburgh over BALTIMORE
WASHINGTON over Dallas
INDIANAPOLIS over Tennessee

Resting starters could foil my picks, but fuck it. By my estimation, we're looking at the 'Skins and the Browns in the playoffs. Go football!

Monday, December 24, 2007

The Ocean

Lincoln City, OR -

My second Lincoln of the trip. I parted ways with Brother Vince a few hours ago, and now I'm finally on the last leg of the trip up the Oregon Coast, over to I-5 and into Tacoma. The skies are a rare coastal blue, the seas a ruggedly cloud-like white. I can feel the mild, wet air filling my insides. Its a beautiful thing. I left the camera in the car when I came into the coffee shop here to scope out travel routes, but look forward to some coastal beer photos, and, in a few more days, an entire chronicle of the trip. While I'm at it, look forward to a review of Neil Young's Mirrorball album.

Life on the Road,
BTB

------------
**Update**
Tacoma, WA -
Here are some fly pics from the O-Coast, circa Newport.
First Stop: The Rogue Brewery on Yaquina Bay
Next Up: Enjoying a brew on the beach.

What a beautiful day. What a beautiful place.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

The Open Road

Twin Falls, ID -

The Open Road sometimes also means the Closed Road. By that logic, it wound up that we got stuck yet again in Wyoming after about a hundred miles west out of Laramie this morning. We pulled off at Rawlins for gas, and they never let us back on to I-80 because of blowing snow and gusting winds. Out around Utah, Colorado and Wyoming the snow tends to be incredibly light and powdery. Douchebag skiers call it "champagne snow" but Vince and I figured it was more like Middle East sand. This also means that it has a nasty tendency to blow across the high plains in blinding fits with the 60mph gusts. Once it calmed down a bit, about fifty miles past Rawlins once they re-opened the freeway, Vince shot a few pics from the passenger side. Here is a toned down version of the conditions that required us to stay in Southeastern Wyoming for twenty-six hours.

Interstate 80, just West of Rawlins, WY

Luckily, weather is cyclical, and a few hours later we saw a pretty kick-ass sunset in Western Wyoming. Note the train in the center of the photo. That guy was shadowing us for a long time, and later disappeared into an amazing crevasse in the mountains.

A Cowboy Sunset

And finally, we hit Ogden, UT for some local beer.

BTB with a growler from Ogden's Roosters Brewpub. Yes, I am drunk with joy for how awesome Ogden was. (Note to readers, I was sober as the morning sun in this photo. I have no idea how I managed to make that face.)

Friday, December 21, 2007

Laramie?

Laramie, WY -

Fuck me! Vince and I decided that we were best off staying here in the great city of Laramie, Wyoming instead of taking our chances waiting for I-80 to re-open and taking our chances with some crap town a couple hundred miles east.

That leaves us here at the TravelInn on 3rd Ave. with wifi and cable tv. Today's Hardball is a tour de force, and the last ten minutes of Matthews v. Madden had me alternately in stitches and in cringes.

I should also mention that it was a good omen that when I stepped into the hotel room and jacked open the mini-fridge I found five cans of Budweiser. Couple that with our growler of Altitude Amber, the ear-burning cold, and the surplus of cowboy bars here in town and I think we are in for a good night.


Wyoming is Cowboy Country*.





*I should mention that Vince and I have made a deal. When he hit the bars tonight, I don't wear my cowboy hat and he doesn't wear his scarf. This is, after all, the regrettable site of the Matthew Shepard hate crime.

Snowed in NFL Picks Week 16

Laramie, WY -

Greetings from the Altitude Bar in Laramie, WY, home of the University of Wyoming Cowboys. Interstate 80 is closed from here to Rawlins due to high winds, low visibility and blowing snow, so our plan to get to Eastern Nevada tonight has been put on hold. Cowgirls, you have been warned!

With that, my NFL picks.

Pittsburgh over ST. LOUIS (late, I know, but I would have picked them, and I have had shoddy internet the last few days)
CAROLINA over Dallas
BUFFALO over NY Giants
Green Bay over CHICAGO
CLEVELAND over Cincy
DETROIT over Kansas City
INDIANAPOLIS over Houston
Philadelphia over NEW ORLEANS
JACKSONVILLE over Oakland
ARIZONA over Atlanta
TENNESSEE over NY Jets
Tampa Bay over SAN FRANCISCO
SEATTLE over Baltimore
NEW ENGLAND over Miami
MINNESOTA over Washington

I don't know what my record was last week, but it sucked. I'll update once I'm back in Tacoma.

P.S. There are little kids caroling right now...at a bar. Joy to the World. Joy to Wyoming.

Rocky Mountain High

Denver, CO -

Greetings from the Mile High City. I only have a minute or two to toss some junk up on the web, but just wanted to give a quick shout out to Denver. What a great city.

Ahoy,
BTB

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Greetings from the Road

Kearney, NE -


3Q Nation, welcome back to the Big Show, which right now is better described as the Road Show.

First of all, a few important points.

1) I am no longer in New Hampshire. I am in the process of driving back to Tacoma, WA.

2) Because of a possibility that I might go back to NH for a week before the primary, I am withholding my endorsement until further notice. Within a week or so I should know whether or not I will keep it close, or drop it on the blog. Sorry for the confusion.

3)Another apology is due. I haven't posted much lately due to shoddy internet access. Right now I'm rollicking on Motel 6 Wireless, but the road has constantly beckoned, so coffee shop stops have been few and far between.

4) I will be writing less about politics in the next two weeks, but I have a great blog piece coming up about a state-by-state beer journey from NH to WA. So far I am ten deep: NH, VT, MA, NY, PA, OH, IN, IL, IA, NE. At least six more states to come. Keep checking back, you'll see what I mean.

Now that I have finished with that piece, I have to say that Kearney (pronounced Carney) is a pretty tight place. I definitely recommend a stop by the Palm Garden Lounge on 22nd St. of of 1st Ave. Friendly bartender, interesting clientèle, awesome football decor.

With that, I will leave you with a few teaser photos.

Indiana, where High School Basketball is King.
BTB with a Three Floyd's Alpha King Pale Ale in Elkhart, IN

In the Deed the Glory
Vince and BTB in front of University of Nebraska's Memorial Stadium with a very shitty Empyrean LunaSea ESB

Friday, December 14, 2007

Love Song of B. Thomas Bissell

Snow Pond, NH -

So here it is, my final entry from Snow Pond for the season. Keep checking back to 3Q for more stories from the trail, more closing sentiments, and a travel log for the ages as we bring this caravan from the Granite State to the Evergreen State. Details to come.


'Til then I end with a poem, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," by T. S. Eliot -

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . . 110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me. 125

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Week 15 NFL Picks

Week 15 Picks

HOUSTON over Denver
Cincinnati over SAN FRANCISCO
Tennessee over KANSAS CITY
Baltimore over MIAMI
ST. LOUIS over Green Bay
Arizona over NEW ORLEANS
NEW ENGLAND over NY Jets
PITTSBURGH over Jacksonville
TAMPA BAY over Atlanta
Seattle over CAROLINA
Indianapolis over OAKLAND
DALLAS over Philadelphia
Detroit over SAN DIEGO
Washington over NY GIANTS
MINNESOTA over Chicago

Going a little controversial this week.

Last Week: 13-3
Season: 98-48

Running Down Campaign Trail with BTB

This video courtesy http://primaryword.org

Christmas with Gravel

Obama Press Conference on Negative Campaigning

Concord, NH –

The Obama campaign held a press conference this morning at their Concord office to talk about the recent charges of negative attacks by the Clinton campaign, more specifically stemming from the incident yesterday involving Clinton’s NH co-chair Bill Shaheen’s remarks about Obama’s past drug use and the implication that Obama may have also distributed drugs at the time.

Two of Obama’s own state co-chairs, Ned Helms and state Sen. Martha Fuller Clark, were on hand to deliver remarks about the issue and take questions from the handful of reporters crammed into the Eagle Square office.

“Now is not the time to return to old politics,” Helms asserted, as he charged the Clinton campaign with resorting to character attacks instead of real policy disagreements congruent with Obama’s recent rise in the polls in both Iowa and New Hampshire.

“They have moved from looking at his kindergarten record,” Helms continued, “to reading his book” to glean information from Obama’s teenage years. “There is no place in the process for smearing character.”

Senator Clark reiterated Helms’ remarks that Obama’s campaign was successful because of his positive message. The voters, she suggested, “are looking for a President who can bring people together.”

Asked by a reporter what more the Clinton campaign could do beyond condemning the statement. Were they pushing for Shaheen to resign?

“That’s a conversation that needs to happen within the Clinton campaign,” Helms replied, before adding that they are not in the business of giving advice to rival campaigns.

Pressed further by another reporter about whether or not that meant that the Obama team believed that the Clinton campaign actually did, if not authorize, at least allow for such comments to be made.

Helms did not confirm that statement, but said “When you see a pattern,” citing the two nefarious e-mails in Iowa and now Shaheen’s remarks, “it doesn’t take a genius to see that there is a thread going on here.” He then added that at some point you just need to say enough is enough.

With that, there were to be no further comments.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Happy Birthday!

Snow Pond, NH -

Happy Birthday to 3Q! Belated, that is. I totally dropped the ball and failed to give a shout out this past Sunday, December 9, which was the One Year Anniversary of the Beginning of the Quabbin Qountry Queries. Fuckin' A, man. Fuckin' A.

It's been a long ride.

By all means check out the first and second posts from that magical first weekend!

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Oprah Obama Setlist, 12/9/07

Manchester, NH -

Intro
It’s Not Unusual - Tom Jones
Get Ready - The Temptations
Celebrate - Kool and the Gang
Only in America - Brooks and Dunn
Hold On, I’m Coming - Sam and Dave
Think - Aretha Franklin (entry for Oprah)
City of Blinding Lights - U2 (entry for Barack)

Outro
Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Stevie Wonder
Higher and Higher - Jackie Wilson
I'll Take You There - The Staple Singers

Minuteman Makes Split-Second Decision

Concord, NH -

Come on, Jim Gilchrist, grow a set! The founder of the Minuteman Project has endorsed Mike Huckabee over Tom Tancredo just a day after Huckabee released his immigration policy, which Gilchrist said "was a plan I myself could have written." Minus, of course, having people patrol the Canadian border with guns.

I know Tom Tancredo doesn't care because he isn't going to win, but seriously, if you are going to encourage vigilantism, at least vote your conscience!

McCain is Angry?

Monday, December 10, 2007

Oprah Obama Photo Journal

Manchester, NH -

The following is a photo journal from the Oprah-Obama rally at Manchester's Verizon Wireless Arena. It was kind of a big deal.

At first I thought they were trying to get rid of me when they told me to walk around the side of the building and go in the door marked "press", like I was going to knock three times and be greeted by hired goons. Instead, it was the gateway to the bowels.


Inside the arena, a look at the stage, the podium, and the two chairs for Oprah and Michelle. Oh yeah, and the big banner behind them, in case you missed that.

Worried about getting crappy seats to the event? At least you weren't stuck in the press pen. The gentleman in the blue sweater in the center of the screen is Tim Foley, the Obama New Media Coordinator. The guy on the left is Reid Cherlin, the state Press Secretary, and the guy in the awesome Russian hat was just a volunteer. But still, it is an awesome fuckin' hat.

This is the view of the crowd on the right half of the stage.

This, then, would be the left side.

The crowd doing the wave while they waited for Oprah. The wave made it around about three times. I have to admit, it was pretty cool. Those women holding the signs were also dancing feverishly throughout the course of the pre-event music selection.

JUMBOTRON!!!!
On the jumbotron during the pregame they played a bunch of videos with volunteers and footage from some of the earlier mass rallies.

JUMBOTRON!!!!

Gov. John Lynch introduces the event. The guy in the foreground is Chris from Candidate Photos. He has been a mainstay on the trail this fall, and is a great guy. He is clearly rushing off to get a much better picture than I am getting.

Michelle Obama addresses the crowd in a funky, yet wickedly stylish, black number with incredibly wide sleeves.


Oprah's on!

More Oprah! (I am only using exclamation points to describe her photos!)

Last but not least, Senator Barack Obama sizes up the crowd.

Oprah Obama Attendence

Snow Pond, NH -

For some reason, I have a disproportionately large pet peeve about campaign-produced attendance estimates. The Obama camp is claiming 8500 at tonight's show in Manchester.

I'll probably get in trouble for saying this (just like the last time I was at an Obama event in Laconia, or the time before when I was at a Clinton event in Nashua when I spoke truth to power) but I can't honestly believe there were more than 5500 people there. 5600 if you count press. Maybe even 5700.

Still the biggest NH event in history, I'm sure, but the rectangular sections were 20 wide and 14 tall (280) and there were ten of those full. The triangular sections held about 100, and there were maybe ten of those. Then you had the luxury boxes, the ground floor, and the nosebleeds that were sporadically merely dabbled with people.

I used to teach math to 6th graders so I have spent a lot of time with area and perimeter. I also know how to count and estimate pretty well (once again, key components of the curriculum). Please, campaigns, stop overestimating!

According to the VZW Arena website "end stage concerts hold about 10,050." I would liken this to an end stage concert, and the place was somewhere between one half and two thirds full. Not 85%.

I want to reiterate that this has nothing to do with the Obama camp in particular. Clinton does it. They all do it. My word to the wise, whenever you hear a campaign estimate, take two thirds of it and call it Gold.

I'll have a diary up ASAP. The goal is to pull an all-nighter to coordinate with the news cycle. Concord High's 7:45 start time may be the only thing standing in my way. I've got bourbon. I've got water. I've got some Cabot cheese. I've got the hope of snow making its way north from Manchester toward my bedroom window.

Friday, December 7, 2007

Universal Hell Care

Concord, NH -

In my humble opinion, if you're not rolling with single payer then Universal Health Care is nothing but demagoguery, if not social jingoism. Today's Monitor summed up these feelings pretty well. Check it out. You better not fine my poor, healthy ass!

Is Dumond a Woman Problem for Huckabee?

Concord, NH -

While most of the reporting on the Dumond parole issue may be, at worst, little more than sensationalism and sour grapes for Huckabee, at best it has the potential to reveal some awful character flaws. The story, first broken by the Huffington Post's Murray Waas, reveals in detail the process by which then-Governor Mike Huckabee oversaw the early parole release of a convicted rapist. According to the way Huckabee frames it, the decision was hardly his, and if anything he was looking forward to giving someone a chance at a better life. In some circumstances that kind of compassion should be lauded, and in most cases of rehabilitation probably works for the best. This time it didn't.

Yet, especially given the way Huckabee dodged the question of whether or not women should be involved in a church's leadership, this Dumond case begs the question: is Huckabee a misogynist? Did he weigh the Dumond's prison behavior more than the impassioned pleas of his victims - all females - because he trusts a man's potential over a woman's warning? Much as I love the Huckabee charm and have an gut feeling that he cares about people, I fear that the answer to those last two questions may be "yes".

If that is the case, and more dirt comes out to expose such a view, Huckabee could be headed down a country road to ruin.

Distasteful Non-Answers

Concord, NH -

Today's U-L has an AP piece that simply asks a handful of the candidates which foods they hate. Typically, a handful of them (Clinton, obviously included) couldn't answer.


Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton: "I like nearly everything. "I don't like, you
know, things that are still alive."
Former Sen. John Edwards: "I can't stand
mushrooms. I don't want them on anything that I eat. And I have had to eat them
because you get food served and it's sitting there and you're starving, so you
eat."
Sen. Barack Obama: "Beets, and I always avoid eating them."
Gov.
Bill Richardson: Mushrooms, specifically. "I'm not a big vegetable eater."
Recalling the first President Bush's distaste for broccoli, he said: "I
sympathize with that fully."
Republicans:
Former Mayor Rudy Giuliani:
Liver.
Former Gov. Mike Huckabee: "Carrots. I just don't like carrots. I
banned them from the governor's mansion when I was governor of Arkansas because
I could."
Sen. John McCain: "I eat almost everything. Sometimes I don't do
too well with vegetables."
Former Gov. Mitt Romney: "Eggplant, in any shape
or form. And I've always been able to avoid it."
Former Sen. Fred Thompson:
"Not much. I've tried to do better about that. I jokingly say that we kind of
have a diet around our house that if it tastes good, you don't eat it. I haven't
quite got there yet. There's not much that I turn down. That's a good thing on
the campaign trail because you get quite a variety."



Seriously, answer the question.

"Things that are still alive?" I understand that rich people eat exotic things, but that doesn't make any sense at all.

Fred Thompson, are you talking? What a waste of time.

My answer? Black licorice.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

NFL Picks Week 14

Snow Pond, NH -

Here are the Week 14 Pix

WASHINGTON over Chicago
Dallas over DETROIT
JACKSONVILLE over Carolina
TENNESSEE over San Diego
GREEN BAY over Oakland
PHILADELPHIA over NY Giants
BUFFALO over Miami
St. Louis over CINCINNATI
HOUSTON over Tampa Bay
Minnesota over SAN FRANCISCO
SEATTLE over Arizona
DENVER over Kansas City
Cleveland over NY JETS
NEW ENGLAND over Pittsburgh
Indianapolis over BALTIMORE
New Orleans over ATLANTA


Last Week: 11-5
Year to Date: 85-45

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Another Slow Day

Snow Pond, NH -

It has been a quiet night here at Three Q. I tried listening to the Democratic NPR debate but I got bored halfway through. I mean, in spite of their efforts to keep it to relevant issues, I nevertheless found the thing to be boring and not terribly insightful. I still like the YouTube one best.

Better yet, I began work on my endorsement metric. I have finally pegged down a date for my official endorsement of a candidate here at 3Q: Sunday, December 16. That should give you all enough time to realize that my choice is an intelligent one, and then get on your horse and caucus for him (or her, I guess). My endorsement will come out based on a series of qualitative judgments on quantitative measures, if that makes sense. In other words, my judgment on a series of issues will be taken into account on a weighted scale. I have no idea who will get my endorsement! I am hoping this takes away the bias of whose jokes I found funniest or whose suits I like best.

Stay tuned!

BTB

Monday, December 3, 2007

Come See Your Favorite Blogger!

Manchester, NH -

This Thursday, December 6 at 7:00PM the New England News Forum is hosting a town hall titled: The UnPress: New Gatekeepers of the New Hampshire Primary with a bunch of bigwigs like myself. Sounds like there will be bloggers and professors and civic activists discussing the role of the internet and new media in the NH Primary horse race. You can see a list of participants here.

The event is free and open to the public. It will be located at SNHU's Robert Frost Hall. Directions here.

Oh yeah, the most important part. I'm one of the featured participants. If you live in New England, by gum you should come on over! At the very least you can come and see how good I look, or better yet watch me make a fool of myself.

See you on the trail,
BTB

Sunday, December 2, 2007

NH On Cask

North Woodstock, NH -

While a watering hole review of the Woodstock Station here in North Woodstock, NH is long overdue, I will put it off yet again, but not without a quick cask plug.

Right now at the Station, in the downstairs bar they are featuring a caskfull of last year's Wassail, which has been aging in a barrel with 6 oz. of bourbon infused in cedar chips. I just had one, and I can't imagine there is much left in the cask, so hurry up to NoWo and get some of that sweet, malty goodness.

That's right folks, ON CASK!

Media Tries to Blow Down Straw Poll Paul

Plymouth, NH -

Ron Paul puts his pants on just like the rest of the GOP candidates - one leg at a time. Except, once his pants are on, he wins straw polls. This time he dominated in Virginia. I think this is something like the 12th straw poll he has won now. I know they don't mean much, but at some point they have to mean something.

Paul - 38%
Thompson - 23% (whose surrogate was VA GOP's favorite son George Allen)
Huckabee - 11%
Giuliani - 9%

Which bring me to my other point, why was the MSM afraid to give Ron Paul any propers for his debate performance Wednesday?

Although his speaking time, 7:11, put him in the middle of the pack and very near Mike Huckabee (9:47) and the drawling Fred Thompson (10:25), Paul was widely ignored in most debate reviews.

The New York Times' sole mention of Paul had to do with his quip about fundraising.
And Representative Ron Paul of Texas, whose libertarian, anti-war candidacy has made him a surprise fund-raising sensation on the Internet, allowed that he was “struggling to figure out how to spend the money.”

In The Fix, Chris Cilizza gave Paul only passing mention as the object of a motion by John McCain.
Sen. John McCain (Ariz.) challenged Rep. Ron Paul over the idea of whether American troops should be removed from Iraq immediately. "That kind of isolationism, sir, is what caused World War II," McCain said to a mixture of cheering and booing from the crowd. "We allowed Hitler to come to power with that kind of attitude and appeasement." Paul responded that he had more campaign donations from active military men and women than any other Republican candidate.
Yet he completely failed to include a key component of that back-and-forth, when Paul told McCain he didn't understand the difference between isolationism and non-interventionism, and furthermore that the crowd wildly cheered Paul as he gave his anti-war answer that led McCain to go after him.

Furthermore, there was absolutely no mention of the exchange that drew McCain's real ire in the first place. The Arizona Senator is fond of repeating a line, which he has been saying for years, about the Republicans going to Washington to change it, but how Washington changed them. Well, Ron Paul went out of his way with his first chance to say "I don't think that applies to me. Washington didn't change me." You could see McCain bristle while Paul exposed McCain's establishment credentials.

There was another tete-a-tete between the two white hairs later on when McCain interrupted once again to point out that America never lost a battle in Vietnam. Paul instantly hit back with the point that the Vietnamese Colonel Tu said in a meeting with the American Colonoel Summers, who made the same point, "yes, but that is irrelevant." Again, the crowd cheered on Ron Paul's sentiment.

Over at First Read, the editorial crew gave Paul some credit for sounding rational in the face of irrationality.
Paul does a pretty good job of sounding rational when posed with somewhat irrational questions. His trilateral commission answer didn't sound conspiratorial even though the whole premise of the question is just that: conspiratorial.
In other words, a backhanded compliment. They're saying he is an articulate coot. It is oddly reminiscent of the Kucinich UFO question.

My initial reaction to the debate was the Huckabee put in a great performance, Romney was all over the place mostly due to his overtly visceral pandering instinct, and Giuliani stunk up the joint. The MSM picked up on this loud and clear. But the thing they didn't notice is that Ron Paul bitch slapped John McCain left and right with sound reasoning in the face of patriotistic jingoism. Its not about the troops winning. Its about life and death, human dignity and Iraqi freedom, and the honor of American values. Ron Paul understands this, and if you watch the video again, so did the voters in the crowd. MSM - don't be afraid.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Wrong Turns on the Track of the Clinton Hostage Taker

**This piece was originally produced for Huffington Post's Off the Bus Project**

Somersworth, NH -

I caught wind of the Clinton office hostage situation in Rochester just after 2PM today, while the US History class I was substitute teaching half-heartedly watched a video about the Roaring 20's. My gmail inbox turned white at the top with a new item from Off the Bus asking if it were possible to get out to the scene of the crime to do a little bit of citizen journalism. I told OTB that I could be in Rochester by 4:30, and they told me to run with it.

So I picked up my laptop and my digital camera and burned rubber toward the seacoast. My editor, Neil Nagraj, was giving me updates on the story over the phone as I drove an hour due east to Rochester without a map. I was going purely on instincts, road signs and telephone directions. It was one of those afternoons.

By the time I veered off of Rte. 4 and onto US 202, it was beginning to be widely reported that a man named Troy Alan Stanley was the alleged hostage taker based on the report of a family friend given to FOX News's Carl Cameron. Whereas the original purpose of my trip was to bear witness to the growing media circus revolving the hostage situation, my new assignment was to find background on Mr. Stanley.

Just as Neil was giving me directions to turn right onto US 202A through the center of Rochester to find Stanley’s house, I hit the first of many roadblocks. Much of the town center of Rochester was cordoned off by local and state police, and sitting directly across the lane I was slated to turn on to was a police car parked perpendicularly with an office standing alongside and directing traffic away from 202A.

I hung up the phone, pulled the car over, and ran over to the officer for guidance. She directed me all the way around the city to Rochester Hill Road, where ten minutes later I would find the apartment complex where Mr. Stanley lived. I climbed the stairs to the second floor to where I was told his apartment would be, turned to my left and walked to the end of the hallway. When I finally shifted my gaze to the appropriate door, my heart dropped in my stomach. There were clear indications around Stanley’s apartment of unusual behavior. Was this the residence of America’s Most Wanted man?

I stumbled down the hallway a little ways and knocked on a door to ask some neighbors about him. Three of them were sitting together eating fish and chips and happily obliged my request for background on Mr. Stanley. Just like the media in downtown Rochester, they instantly and excitedly jumped on the Stanley guilt bandwagon. Although the neighbors asked to remain anonymous, they nevertheless bombarded me with dozens of stories about the man that I won't report here because of his innocence, but that were telltale signs of schizophrenia and potentially clear windows into the mind of the hostage taker.

As a result, everything seemed to fall into place. A tormented man with a history of lashing out at neighbors and habitually engaging in generally twisted activities fit the profile of what we were all looking for incredibly well. So well, in fact, that it seemed almost too good to be true.

"You won't believe it," I told my editor over the phone after I left the apartment building. "This guy has quite a story."

I recounted all the things that the neighbors had told me. Neil suggested I talk to the apartment managers to find out a little bit more about their tenant, possibly a photograph or a personal reference. I walked across a field, the grass just beginning to crisp with the cold evening air, and rang a doorbell. A woman answered the door.

"It's not him," she told me. "My husband was just inside the building. Stanley walked into his apartment not two minutes ago."

Not sure what to think, I returned to my car, called my editor and told him the news. "Go ask again," he told me. "Find out for sure."

Just to make sure, I went back. This time the apartment manager himself arrived at the door. He reiterated that Stanley was in his apartment as we speak, and pointed to the light on the second floor window facing the driveway. He suggested I go talk to him myself if I didn't believe him.

I thanked them for their time and walked away from the house. After all the hoopla, it turned out that the most wanted man in New Hampshire was sitting in his apartment, victim of false media reporting and fear at the hands of his friends and family. It was like an episode of Scooby Doo, and I had just spent an hour chasing a Red Herring. The most obvious answer, fueled by a mixture of storytellers from around town, isn't always the best.

With this in mind, and spurred on by a request from the HuffPo to talk to Mr. Stanley about his feelings on the widely reported accusations, I summoned the courage to walk back into the apartment building and up the stairs to Stanley's room. I thought for sure he would be angry, and potentially volatile given the nature of they hysteria from earlier in the day and the description I had been given less than a half hour earlier. How could he not be?

On the contrary, Stanley was quite calm and far from menacing. He told me had no comment on the incident, and then launched into a five minute sermon about his past. Our discussion was short only by my insistence on giving him his peace. His mental illness shone through the entire story.

On the bright side, I felt relieved that the terrible misunderstanding didn't seem to affect him, he still had the same worries on his mind that his neighbors and relatives had described. But on the other hand I was incredibly saddened at the idea that his illness was so severe that such would be the case in the first place.

Down the stairs, along the driveway and into my car, I drove back to downtown Rochester, or at least as close as I could get before the police blockade. By this time, the identity of the actual perpetrator had become news. It was a man named Leeland Eisenberg. The hostages had all been released and I could hear the police radio announcing his capture as I stood in the crosswalk next to the State Trooper who was directing traffic near the blockade.

My editor called me just then, and we discussed the next course of action. The research team back at headquarters was looking into Eisenberg's background and awaiting further news from the authorities and the other media outlets. I was resigned to walk the streets asking if anyone knew the guy, and thinking about the things that had happened so far.

At the pizzeria, in the comic book shop and on the sidewalk nobody knew anything about Eisenberg. Maybe he was from out of town. But the more I walked around, the more I gathered that most of the people in sleepy Rochester this cold winter night were media types.

Packs of television reporters scurried around doing the same thing I was doing, only more aggressively and with a bigger camera and a better dressed inquisitor at the helm. It was then that I fully realized that I was part of the media circus myself. I turned around and headed back toward my car.

On the way back there was a candlelight vigil for World AIDS Day at a church next to the police blockade. I stopped and helped them fill their white paper bags with cat litter as a counterbalance for the wind while they lit votives and placed them inside. Their event was drastically reduced in guests and stature by the hostage tragedy, but they were joyfully moving on as planned. All things go on.

Sure enough, I got a call moments later with the location of Leeland Eisenberg's home. I had a second chance to find a back story on the troubled man who had caused such an uproar in the media, and so much stress and heartache in the friends and families of the hostages.

I left Rochester driving south toward Somersworth, coincidentally right past Mr. Stanley's apartment. Mr. Eisenberg lived alongside the same exact road, a mere two and a half miles south toward Dover. By the time I arrived, after inquiring at a Dunkin Donuts and a gas station to find out exactly where Eisenberg's trailer park was located, the place was a zoo.
The scene near Eisenberg's residence just after his arrest.

The park consisted of one elbow-shaped street hardly wide enough for two cars, and yet it was stuffed with three police cruisers, two television satellite vans, four sets of camera crews, and a handful of cars parked here and there along the street. I thought it best, and most respectful, to keep the area as clear as possible so I switched the clutch over to reverse and wheeled my car around a corner to the parking lot beside an Indonesian restaurant and entered on foot.

Now at my second suspects house of the night, the locals were equally as forthcoming about their neighbor as the earlier bunch, but had no qualms about going on the record. Much to my surprise, and the television reporters beside me, their words were mostly positive. While George Isaacson, Lucie Sunkduag and Erik Carlsen all acknowledged the domestic disputes between Eisenberg and his wife, they were also quick to point out his usually sunny demeanor.

"He was a very pleasant man. It is a complete shock to me," Isaacson said.

"He was never down," noted Carlsen. "He always seemed lively and up."

Sunkduag's take was that "he always said hi. He was always well dressed when he went to the store."

When I asked about his walks to the store, I found out that they were quite frequent. Every day, in fact. And what did he get when he was there? Beer.

"I knew it wasn't the hard stuff," said Sunkduag, "because the grocery store down there only sells beer and wine. He goes there every day, nowhere else."

Carlsen observed that Leeland "was drunk 24/7."

Having picked up on this pattern of Eisenberg's lifestyle, I immediately became interested in a small detail. The mainstream media were disseminating these instant reactions to millions of people all over the world, so I figured I was best served asking around elsewhere to find out the question that all the sudden consumed me. What kind of beer did Eisenberg drink to escape his problems and fuel his domestic violence?

I asked the neighbors, but they could only testify to having seen brown paper bags. I wondered to myself, was it Bud bottles or maybe tall cans of Keystone Ice? I thanked the neighbors for their time, left them to do their live television interviews with the local and cable news reporters on the scene, and decided to head down to the local convenience store to investigate.

Under a clear, cold sky, I followed Eisenberg's nightly path. It was about a three minute walk along a busy country highway and through a car dealership over to the Maxi Mart convenience store and gas station, home to a Domino's Pizza, a standard assortment of candy and chips, and of course a cooler full of beer and a tall rack of cigarettes behind the counter.
The Maxi Mart, near Eisenberg's house

There were four people behind the counter when I arrived, the two co-owners, one of their wives, and a friend. They were taking turns dealing with customers and jovially bantering with one another. Perfect, I thought. It was just the kind of welcoming family business where the habits of the regulars might be recalled with some degree of clarity, and a little bit of conversation was part of the deal every time you bellied up to the counter for a sale.

After a brief and confusing struggle to describe Mr. Eisenberg to the shop's owner, Pierre Salfini, we finally agreed that Leeland, a short, thin, mustachioed man of about fifty was both the regular customer who came by around 6PM every day as well as the man who entered the Clinton campaign office some seven hours earlier claiming to have a bomb strapped around his chest.

"I think he was in here this morning," said Ali Ghaddar, the store's co-owner, with a bemused look.

"This may sound strange," I said to Silfani. "But I want to know what kind of beer this man bought when he came in here every day."

"He always bought uh, Natural, natural…" he trailed off.

"Natty Light?" I chimed in.

"Yeah, Natural Light," Silfani recalled. "Six packs. And he smoked either Basic Menthol or Pall Mall menthols."

Ghaddar spoke up from behind. "It was Pall Mall."

"Yeah," Silfani agreed. "Pall Mall. But definitely menthols."

The store owners gave almost identical testimonies on their perception of Mr. Eisenberg as his neighbors. "He was very nice and polite. Always well dressed."

While they chatted about the odd circumstance that they habitually sold legal doses of stimulants and depressants to a man who it turns out was quite disturbed I snuck off to the back of the clean, brightly lit store. I wanted to get a look at the beer cooler. Natural Light, coincidentally, was the first beer that ever got me drunk seven years ago. I knew of its allure. Sure enough, in the lefthand corner of the bottom shelf was the tell-tale soft gray and baby blue sheen of Natural Light.

Walking back to the counter, I asked how much the Natty Light six packs went for.

"$2.99," Ghaddar told me.

"And the smokes? The Pall Malls?"

He looked back and turned to me with an ironic smile on his face. "Same price."

Eisenberg may have been one of the better dressed customers at the Maxi Mart, but he bought the cheapest beer and the cheapest cigarettes they had to offer.

As I walked out of the convenience store I found myself whistling along with the song playing on the radio, The Police's "Message in a Bottle". Just a castaway, and island lost at sea. Another lonely day, no one here but me. I can only imagine that is how it felt a lot of the time for the two men who were involved, one wrongfully and the other correctly, in today's hostage fiasco in Rochester.

Hostage

Snow Pond, NH -

I just returned from Rochester, Somersworth and Dover after a night of chasing around stories about the Clinton Campaign Office Hostage situation. What a night. I am working on a longish piece about my trials and travails for the HuffPo, and I'll post it shortly. I have a lot of work left to do, and not a lot of sleep in the bank, so it likely means I won't be able to make it down to Manchester for Paul and Huckabee Saturday, but I should have my first Gravel piece up from the conference by Sunday nevertheless along with a little media criticism about the GOP debate. Can Ron Paul get a little love? A little more amore?

After the scene I saw tonight all I can say is that I hope that you, fair reader, are free to roam wherever you wish, and if you're drinking or doing drugs I hope you are doing so for happiness and not to silence the demons. There is a lot of sad shit going on out in the world, and a whole lot of sad people. Keep in mind that I got nothing but love for you, whoever you are, and keep doing your thang (especially if that thang is reading my blog).

Pourin' Some Out for Another November Gone by,
BTB