Friday, February 25, 2005

Lost in Translation, S. Dogg stlyin'
Directed to this site, with some time to spare, it was interesting to see what an alternative search would come up with. Gizoogling "verging" gave me this:

Verg'n on Pertinence. Jizzy some more disposable thoughts clogg'n up tha hinterlands . Ill slap tha taste out yo mouf. Tuesday, February 22, 2005 so you betta run and grab yo glock. A pithy review ...

Is it too late to start wearing sweats with bling?

Thursday, February 24, 2005

...and This Took So Long 'cause...
It was announced yesterday that, among others, the Songwriters Hall of Fame will finally induct Steve Cropper at their June 9, 2005 event. His distinctive guitar sound, most usually emanating from a Fender Telecaster, was studied, copied, but, as they say, never duplicated. Most folks first saw him as one of the band members of "The Blues Brothers", along with his close friend and fellow Stax Records session players, bassist Donald "Duck" Dunn. His songwriting skills always seemed to be downplayed, as if, due to his marvelous playing, they should have been attributed to someone else's work.
From Songwriter's Hall of Fame, the following excerpt from their announcement:

"As a founding member of the legendary Booker T and the MG’s, as well as an A&R man, producer and songwriter, Steve Cropper was involved in virtually every record issued by the seminal Stax recording label from the fall of 1961 through year end 1970. Some of his songwriting credits include the classics “(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay,” “Knock on Wood” and “In the Midnight Hour.” Cropper produced and played on sessions by the likes of Poco, Jeff Beck, Jose Feliciano, Yvonne Elliman, John Prine, Dreams and Tower Of Power. As a member of the original incarnation of the Blues Brothers, he recorded three albums with them, including the number one Briefcase Full of Blues. Over the past 20 years. Cropper has continued to be an in-demand musician and producer. His string-bending talents are showcased on CDs by Elton John, Paul Simon, Ringo Starr, Buddy Guy, Steppenwolf and Johnny Lang."

Additional info at Stax Records Info and Biography.

Web Snow
An odd day at work today. The BIG snow storm of the year is churning about the Delamarva peninsula. Snow started to float down around 9:30 a.m., an odd time for folks needing to make decisions. School districts and independent schools were not willing to call off classes for the day initially; weather forecasters are still viewed with suspicion. This storm was predicted on Tuesday as a biggie...but one never knows.
As folks at work saw the flakes coming down, the Internet was hit, big time. Snow Watch was a favorite. You could walk from one end of the offices to the other and follow each school closing as you glanced at the scrolling terminals of the cubicles you passed. Getting a customer's order.
Finishing a CAD drawing.
Matching up checks to invoices.
All these activites took backseats to what was happening with one's kids' school. (I'm blogging over lunch time, so I'm conducting self-absolution here).
As a manager, I'm thinking how much time is too much time to be in the office but out on the internet.
As a father, I'm thinking time limits and children's safety are mutually exclusive concerns.
As a 6 year old kid bouncing inside my head, I'm staring out the window and screaming "SNOW DAY !!!" & "Where'd I put the sleigh?".

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

A pithy review

From Smiling Goat as pointed out by Megan and Murray. Check out "The Store". Can this one pix review be any better? Concise, attractive, humourous, non-damaging to the environment, and tasty (if you happen to have a ginger ale to wash it down with).

Note: Both the picture and the connection to must be overloaded at this point. If you try to go there, you'll get an error messgae. Hopefully, they'll be able to clear up the matter. The smiling Goat site is well worth a visit and not just for their take on The Gates.

Monday, February 21, 2005

If Reagan was the Teflon Prez, what's this guy.. who discusses his marijuana smoking with his friend Bill Wead (I'm presuming that's pronounced Weed)? And then he mocks Gore for admitting he tried marijuana? Where's Hunter Thompson when you need him now? Unfortuntely, the good doctor is dead and gone. Fear and loathing, indeed.

Orange Sherbert
Saturday was freezing sunshine. A February day crisp with light winds, blinding sunlight, and toe-chilling temperatures. A perfect day for the city to be packed with its dwellers and its visitors. The family, minus Mr. Ohio, rose early, staggered over to the car and pointed it north toward NYC. We met with friends at Port Imperial in Weehawken, NJ where we caught a (cheap) ferry over to 38th St in Manahattan. What a gorgeous way to enter the city! Leave your car behind in Jersey for the day, 7 bucks :<(That and the cost of the ferry was the last time that day anything cost under a sawbuck).
A block south of the Park, glints of orange/saffron/mandarin/tangerine flicker. Streams of people quietly congeal into crowds as we cross 58th Street, pass by Sherman's statue by Fifth Avenue. The southeast corner of the park is dotted with groups of people, but there's no pushing or yelling. People mill about with smiles on their faces, or at least on faces you can see that aren't wrapped to eye-level in scrafs or pulled up sweaters. We meander down the paths, passing under the Gates. The sun is bright, high overhead at midday; the paths are bright with the flapping orange material (I will not try to use any other "orange" synonym, although, when I was googling for alternate color descriptions, it was interesting to find out that as the orange (fruit) made its way from China to western Asia to Europe and eventaully to the flatlands of Florida, it changed its name from the Persian narang to the Arabic naranj to the Italian melarancio was translated into Old French as pume orenge and finally to orange. The Croatian word for orange is "naranc(h)a", a variation of the Arabic word).
The Bulgarian born artist Christo's vision is, if nothing else, a reason to discuss the definition of art. And that's the main topic that drifted from group to group. That and the cost of the project, a topic everyone seemed to have an unwavering opinion on. "If I had that money.." was an introduction to many an exchanged greeting. All I kept on thinking about was pumpkin & roast turkey, an earworm planted by Pepper of the Earth's take on the Gates. Read that review to get a true feel for what the outdoor exhibit is like. I thoroughly enjoyed the short 3-4 miles that we walked of the 23 miles of paths marked in orange. With the sun out so brightly, the shadows laid out by the cloth were as interesting as the bright banners themselves. With the dismantling to start on Feb. 27th, my mind's eye will not be affected. I'll always see certian parts of the Park strewn with the Gates undulating along the topography of the Park. The Gates opened up my eyes to certain peculiarities of Central Park I'd been blind to. Christo's idea was brilliant and so helpful. The fact that it's just a temporary installation is a complement to the Park's designers, Fredrick Law Olmstead and Calvert Vaux, whose eyes for details may be seen now by some of us who were blind to them.
The New Yorker's Peter Schjedahl opines here. reading it, I knew how those Allied pilots felt when they realized the Red Baron was around chumming for kills.
Another NYC blogger, Jamie at The Known Universe adds his displeasure here. I guess if it's
1) popular
2) free
3) (seemingly) simple,
it's tough to get a New Yorker to smile.

The cold and the wind began straining the positive family outing, so we all repaired to a small restaturant populated by more wait staff than customers. After being eyed for a while, we were approached with ennui and "What cha wants?". The Christo spirit unfortunately did not cross over from the Park. The fare was not Christo-colored food, but the room was toasty, the hot chocolate was hot, and a cold day in NYC beats most warm days anywhere else.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

If the weather holds up, if the ferry doesn't sink, if vandalism is kept to a minimum, and if the family members dragged along doth not protest too much, this weekend bodes well for a visit up to NYC to experience the Big Freebie @ Central Park.
I'll be sure to wear clothing that minimizes attention from the Gates. Perhaps an understated purple melange
Shoes of a welcoming nature will be a necessity. A friend, fiendish in his endeavours to hold off the ravages of time, has threatened we'd walk the full 23 miles of Christos' exhibit. Jesting? Not really sure. Endurance is his metier. He also has a sly way of persuading you to do what you'd thought physically impossible. I believe his portfolio leans heavily toward Epsom salts and Physical Therapy companies, so there are multiple payoffs.
Hopefully the dog piles and the bum dung have been removed from the trails. Otherwise, you won't be able to look up as you walk by the blowing fabric. But then, isn't that one of NYC's sensual pleasures?

What I'm really looking forward to is the ineveitable quick buck schems that will have proliferated throughout the park and the surrounding streets. Suckers, er, tourists are supposed to be ther in droves, so enticement of one type or another will be available at the Insts-stalls that instantly appear around such a happening. Art & kitsch, a quickie marriage headed for a quickie divorce come February 27th. For a NYC blogger's perspective on a walk through, check out Pepper of the Earth's take on a ramble through the Park.

Friday, February 11, 2005

A lazy man's entry, this. One step up from writing one's memoirs at a bus stop.
It's Friday night. I'm sitting in for a friend @ WVUD, d.j.-ing the station's regular week night jazz show. It tends to be quiet, as far as the phones are concerned. Once in a while, a listener may call, interested in a track played a half hour or so ago. Pleasantries are exchanged, artist appreciation is noted, call is ended, and it's back to picking through the cd's. Looking for that perfect mix.

Jimmy Smith, commander of the Hammond B-3, soloed out this week, so he'll be the heavy on the playlist tonight.
So, for what it's worth, here's the playlist going out on the airwaves tonight, in the 30 mile radius of the station.

Ronnie Earl & The Broadcasters "Ice Cream Man" from Grateful Heart
Jimmy Smith "Let's Stay Together" Root Down
Jimmy Smith "Tuition Blues" Dot Com Blues
Charlie Hunter Quartet "Ashby Man" Ready...Set...Shango!
Charlie Hunter & Leon Parker "Do That Then" Duo
Leon Parker "It is what it is" Awakening
Brad Mehldau "Dusty McNugget" Largo
Esbjorn Svensson Trio "The Return of Mohammed" Somewhere Else Before
Grant Green "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen" Feelin' the Spirit

Javon Jackson "Right On" Easy Does It
Dr. Lonnie Smith "Paper Tiger" To Beck: A Tribute
Joey DeFrancesco "Jammin' in the Basement" Ballads & Blues
Jimmy Smith "Just Friends" House Party

Jay McShann "Preaching Blues" Some Blues
Jimmy Smith "I Didn't Know What Time it Was" Standards
Nina Simone "My Baby Just Cares for Me" Anthology

Good Night to all.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Turn the sound down low and mournful
As mentioned on Delawhere and Soul Sides, the great B-3 Hammond Jazz organist Jimmy Smith died in his sleep on Tuesday at the age of 76. Here's his obit from his home town paper, the Philadelphia Inquirer. By lucky timing, Concord is releasing a cd next week titled "Legacy". Fellow Philly organist Joey DeFrancesco joins Mr. Smith on duets. (An excellent piece by Geoff Alexander on Jazz Organ is available here.)
He joined the Navy at 15, finishing his service in 1947. Through the use of the G.I. Bill (arguably the single most forward thinking piece of legislation passed by COngress in the last 70 years), Mr. Smith studied music at Hamilton Scholl of Music in NYC and at the Orenstein School of Music in Philly, where he studied bassa & piano. As the NYT mentions, "Like many other great jazz musicians, (Jimmy) Smith insisted that the key to finding his own sound was through studying musicians who did not play his instrument.". He latched onto Charlie Parker as someone he wanted to sound like. In turn, Jimmy Smith developed his own unique sound, a sound that is thankfully available on over 50 recordings, including 12 albums that he and guitarist Kenny Burrell collabarated on. The number of B-3 Hammond players has lost a significant member.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

I enjoy cooking, the act of cooking, the chemical & physical changes that you control in taking something in one form and transforming it into another.
My ever-loving spouse and I split up the cooking, roughly 60-40. My 40 is probably the reason I still enjoy it. Folks who eat what's been prepared seem to enjoy it or else I just hang around with very polite people who stop at a diner once they've left the house. I'm open to new recipes and ingredients and especially any concoction that requires a specialty tool. There are enough whisks in the house to open up a confectionary shop.
As long as I stay within 5-6 feet of the stove and working surfaces, all is fine. It's when I trespass int the dining area that my cooking problems begin. It all comes down to, as most thing do, timing. I have lots of it. Timing, that is. Bad timing. While I'm more than happy to have folks over for meals, there's a Soup Nazi attitude lurking beneath the benevolence. As soon as any part of a meal that involves heat was finished, I'd strongly insist that those interested in eating sit down quickly to partake of the now cooling meal. At least, that's my eye's perspective.
What my ever-loving wife usually saw was a lunatic running through the house corralling any and every one with a chef's knife/ladle/large wooden spoon in one hand and a skillet/pot/tureen containing some indistiguishable brown white hot magma, threatening bodily harm and familial disgrace if everyone DIDN'T SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW AND EAT! She would gently hint at these tendencies, pointing out, quite correctly, that it wasn't considered Emily Post-ish to tie one's guests to a chair until they've finished their salads. While I agreed that she had a point, especially since I'd used twine rather than ribbon, deep down I felt that this wasn't really that wrong and, more importantly, that I couldn't be the only one feeling this way about eating.

It was with great pleasure that I read an article in today's NYT Food Section, "The Well-Tempered Wok" .

The passage that caught my eye was, "When Grace Young's family went to restaurants, her father always insisted that they sit right next to the swinging door to the kitchen. A liquor salesman who felt at home in every restaurant in San Francisco's Chinatown, her father said food had to be eaten just moments out of the wok, while it is still fresh, hot and exuding wok hay, a Cantonese term, unknown in other parts of China, that translates loosely as "wok energy" or "wok breath."

There it was, another hot food nut out there who insisted that food be eaten immediately. Wok Hay! A worthy cry that will be emanating from my kitchen from now on. And, o.k., I promise to use satin strips to keep the eaters in their place.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Sick or Nerves?
On Angelo Cataldi's TV Show on Comcast last night, two Eagles linemen showed up as guests. The irrepressible Jon Runyon and the irreproachable Hank Fraley came to commiserate about the Super Bowl loss. Cataldi, a former journalist and Pulitzer prize winner and now a morning radio self-deprecating host and buffoon (and I mean that in an affectionate way), launched a piercing question.
"What happened?".

Probably due to jet lag, the rowdy fans at Chickie & Pete's Drinking & Dining Emporium (where the weekly show is usually telecast from), and staring at the face that sank a thousand ships, the two Eagles crumbled under the weight of this ponderous inquiry and revealed the following:
1) Donavan McNabb was feeling very nauseous in the last quarter of the game, possibly due to the temperature changes in Jacksonville.
2) The reason there was no hurry-up offense in the last 8 minutes was due to the inability of McNabb to call out the plays. Coach Andy Reid, while taking the bullet for the slow tactics of tha t last quarter during post-game interviews, had actually called for the 2 minute drill offense; McNabb couldn't execute it.
3) At times in the huddle, McNabb had come close to throwing up. At one point, he was mumbling and speaking so low that the players could not understand which play they were supposed to run. Receiver Freddie Mitchell, who considers shyness a social disease and self-propagandization an American right, spoke up and called the play that he had brought in from the sidelines.
4) When Fraley, the Eagle center, had tried to rush the linemen to the line of scrimmage to run off a quick play, Donavan had called them all back to the huddle because he couldn't run the play.

The hanging question, "Did a bad case of nerves hit McNabb?" was not answered. Cataldi looked stunned. He'd asked a fairly simple question; the flood of answers was clearly unexpected, especially when you consider how the Eagles are usually circling the wagons when any controversy comes up.

The next few days will be very interesting. The Philly press detects blood in the water. Verbal brutality is on the way.

Monday, February 07, 2005

..Lining (Not sure if it's silver, or not)...
From's interview with Patriots' coach and recently annointed Football God, Bill Belichick.

"Host: Coach, Nick Saban, who was a protégé of yours — you had him in Cleveland as your defensive coordinator — had a tremendous success obviously at LSU, and now he's going to be in the division at Miami. How about that? What kind of a head coach do you think Nick's going to be in the NFL?

Bill Belichick (BB): I think Nick's an outstanding coach, I don't think there's any question about that. I think he's one of the very best I've ever had the opportunity to work with. Nick is strong in every area of the game — personnel, strategy, motivation. He has a lot of experience, and he's very good at, as I say, at everything he does, and he can truly get all the bases covered. I think it just makes this division, which is already very tough, even that much tougher. You know, two Croatians in the division, Joe, that's not something you see everyday. [Laughter]

Host: That's got to be a first, right Coach?

BB: Probably is."

Note: Albert Einstein's place in the internet is still safe. A google search of "Albert Einstein + Genius" resulted 182,000 references. "Belichick + Genius" came up with 29,000. Not that this means much. "George W. Bush + Genius" resulted in 259,000 hits. You draw your own conclusions. (Conclusion #1: "Idiot + George W. Bush" had 359,000 Google references)

Pick up the Beat !!!
Continuing the crusade to get Diner (a review is here) in the American Christmas vernacular, a scene description.
Locale: Beat up stripper bar (probably) in Fell's Point area of Baltimore.
Characters: Billy (Timothy Daly), Eddie (Steve Guttenberg), sailors, older stripper, a drummer, a sax player, assorted locals
Scene: a two man bachelor party

Eddie is discussing his imminent marriage after his bride-to-be passed a killer Baltimore Colts quiz (for the younger readers out there, the Indianapolis Colts used to be the Baltimore Colts before a late night 40 tractor trailer flight by owner Robert Irsay to the excitement of Indiana). He’s talking about how it’ll be different being married and is hanging his hope of a good life on the fact that “there will always be the diner.” Billy is listening with one ear to him while concentrating his other ear on the molasses playing of the strip club band. A stripper is strolling on the bar effusing ennui and other noxious odors. The slow playing is driving Billy nuts. He’s pounding the bar with a faster beat, finally shouting repeatedly, ”Pick up the beat!!” After yelling a few times, to no tempo change from the band, Billy jumps onto the bandstand, takes off his jacket and starts playing the piano. The band eventually latches on to his faster tempo, the stripper joins in with a dance, the bar patrons start clapping, Eddie climbs up onto the bar and starts moving, arms akimbo, and we have frivolity, joy, and a driving beat.

Life has its signature moments like this.

Last night, in Jacksonville, there was 5 minutes and 40 seconds left in the Super Bowl. The Iggles were down by 10, with the ball. 10 points!!! They ran a play. Huddle. They ran another play. Huddle. People in Philly were yelling at the screen.
Pick up the Beat!!!
They ran a play. Huddle.
Pick up the pace!!
They ran a play. Huddle. Play.
Two minute warning.
Score. Down by 3.
Time runs out.

No beat was picked up. No Billy jumped onto the field to set a faster tempo. At least 2 minutes, if not more, was wasted in huddles. No 2 minute drills were run by Reid, Donavan, and crew. Television sets all over the Philly metropolitan are were being savaged and maimed.

Later, in "Diner', Fenwick (Kevin Bacon) says to Boogie (Mickey Rourke):
"Boog, do you think there’s a whole other life out there that we know nothing about?"

Yes, Fenwick, to a Philly fan that other life is known as a championship.

Friday, February 04, 2005

The Late Dean Wormer
John Vernon, the smarmy Dean Wormer in the sophomoric cult movie "Animal House", died peacefully at his Los Angeles home Tuesday at the age of 72.
"With his pockmarked face and heavy-lidded blue eyes, Vernon proved to be the ideal villain in dozens of the 85 motion pictures he made over a four-decade career. But he started as a hero in Wojeck in which his character was based on real-life Toronto coroner and politician Dr. Morton Shulman and which formed the template for future forensics-based crime series, from Quincy to Da Vinci's Inquest to CSI.

"Everybody's seen my face but nobody's sure who I am," he once told an interviewer, revealing that he had often been mistaken for Richard Burton or Robert Shaw. "People confuse me with other people and I enjoy that."
He was seen most recently on the "double secret probation" DVD edition of Animal House, in a feature that offered a tongue-in-cheek current look at the characters of the 1978 film. Vernon's Dean Wormer was a crotchety, snowy-haired senior in a wheelchair.
Vernon attended London's Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and in London joined several repertory companies. His Broadway debut came in Royal Hunt of the Sun, and from there he moved to Hollywood for a prolific career playing all those heartless villains.

"The stars are always the good guys, so the guest stars have to be the bad guys," he said in a 1979 interview. "Even though I played a lot of heavies I was very lucky to work all the time, without getting pigeon-holed." " (from

Vernon, born in Regina, Saskatchewan, was your prototypical Canadian. Understated, underappreciated, of strong convictions,...and a hoot. For any of those folks out there who haven't seen "Animal House" (and for those who have), his performance was a treat; blustering ineffective malevolance with a dollop of over-the-top steam-blowing-out-one's-ears thrown in. Underneath all that villainy, his eyes were smirking.

Photo Candy

Iceland. A beautiful and surprising country. Its surprises continue onto this blog site. If you are image googling for "Iceland", the shot above comes up as #1. In fact, if you had clicked on this image, this is the reason you are even at this blog site. Traffic here has been heavy (well..heavy as compared to the usual) and based on the length of most folks' visits, arrival at "Verging on Pertinence" has been disappointing. You were expecting to see more gorgeous pix of Iceland and

...and instead you got a Nick Hornby obsessed Philly area blog site. My apolgies to those 2-3 second-long visitors. May your next click bring you to the sights not sites you wanted to see. Oh, and if you get a chance to go to Iceland, do not hesitate. My last (and unfortunately, my only) visit there was over 20 years ago. Images of Rejkavik, Thingvellir, Icelandic sheep & glaciers still come up in my mind's slide show, at least once a week. A visit there is life-changing.

But this blog has nothing to do with Iceland, except perhaps to encourage you to visit.

So, thanks very much to for their Iceland pic, and apologies to those blog visitors here who may have (incorrectly) assumed a subterfuge in the works.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Civic Duty
The 200 thread count of my pillow was too much of a temptation last night. I know I should have been sitting, preferably anaesthesized, in the front of the boob tube watching the boob deliver the state of the union speech. I just couldn't do it. I raised the white flag on tv-watching last night and retired to a night of reading and snoring.
For Christmas, we'd given my youngest a copy of Miriam Toews' A Complicated Kindness. It was gifted based on a recommendation by Whisky Prajer (I've mentioned Whisky Prajer on a few previous entries...if you STILL haven't gone there, at least once, well..well...I guess you've been too busy poring over the speeches of our current Great Communicator residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.). The book, the 4th (I believe, but don't quote me) and latest from Manitoban Ms. Toews won the 2004 Governor General's Literary Award for Fiction(a highly prestigous book award north of the bordeer).
What a great title! What else is kindness between family members but complicated?

Before wrapping the book, I had gently (oh, so gently) parted the pages of the hardback to pore over the first chapter. As you've probably experienced yourself,this is tough going; you read 3/4 of a sentence and then interpolate the balance. Aside from keeping that "new Book" smell, it was imperative to keep that "new book" sound, the !!crack!! just before you initially delve into the sea of words.
So, yes, my daughter did receive the book and, yes, that was me lurking outside her door last night with larceny in my heart. While she was off studying, the book, on light fingers, made it to my bedstand. While I'm sure English was being mangled on all of the major channels last night in a way that drove AP English teachers to search for their heart medications, I was ensconced comfortably with "A Complicated Kindness". It's a slow read, a comfortable read. I'd finish a chapter and then immediately thumb back and read it again. Toews' writing is exquisite, perhaps not as poetic as Michael Ondaatje's or as humorous/striking as Jonathan Safran Foer's, but it entices one to do some serious re-reading. Her voice is unique, her eye is just a tilt off center, and her touch is soothing.

I weighed the pollution of my mind with bogus promises and lies v. my civic duty of watching the SOTU. Then I remembered Tip O'Neill's comment about "All politics being local". What can be more local than Philly? What can be more politically charged than this Sunday's Philly v Boston sports match-up? It was dereleiction of civic duty time.
Now, while English is mangled daily on WIP Radio in Philly, there is humor, personality, and, well yes, a complete lack of decorum. No blather about "Agents of Freedom". No secracy. No close-minded Q & A times. Host Angelo Cataldi, who bears more than a striking resemblance to Dr. Frankenstein's monster, and his crew do some dishing and they get dished. It's mainly local and it certainly kareens into the politic. For those members of Congress hoping for re-election, a stop @ WIP-Radio is a necessity. Even for the local officals, like Mayor Street, even an accidental radio appearance is unavoidable. So, my next four years' attention will be focused on the local. Denial is the first step in eliminating the depression of November, 2004. The next four years of our national administration are like the weather, pointless to talk or fret about because it's impossible to affect either. Why converse about something so joyless?

This Sunday will certainly be local. Turn on the tv. Mute the sound. Tune into 94.1 WYSP-FM for Merrill Reese and Mike Quick.
No predictions on the game, but it should be a great one. Freddy Mitchell will have his bell rung a few times for the effusive commentating he's been doing the last couple of weeks. Westbrook will hopefully not get hammered too many times. And the Iggles will, cross fingers and toes, pull a victory out at the end. A victory would be nice, very nice for Philly. A positive event to warm the soul until November 2008. E - A - G - L - E - S !!

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