The Dynasty Rides Again and…an Unexpected Endorsement

So two weeks ago, I bought some Mexican take out and drove over to my buddy’s house in St. Louis Park to watch Gophers-Hoosiers in HD. On the way there, the Dynasty started driving a little funky—resisting when I tried to turn the steering wheel. Felt like the alignment was off, or there was ice grinding into the wheel well or something. But I muscled ‘er down 394, gritted my teeth over the General Mills Blvd exit, and got a block from Jorgy’s house when SCCKKKRTT-CLNK-CLNK-CLNK-TTT-CH-LNK-LNK-SCCCKKRT-BUD-DOOMP-CHOOM!


WTF? It was brutally cold, so Jorgy actually drove the block it took to de-damsel in distress me, and we pushed the car to the side of the street.

That Saturday, my father, Gandalf the Grey, came out to see if she was salvageable.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. It’s always somethin’, isn’t it?”

Broken axle.

$60 for a front passenger’s side axle at Napa Auto Parts.

We used dad’s AAA card to have it towed before the sweet suburban couple on Flag Lane in SLP called the authorities about the automobile setting in front of their home, the automobile that looked like it belongs on the West Baltimore set of The Wire.

Where did I tow the car? A warm garage? Back to my parents’ estate in WBL?

Try the alley behind another buddy’s house in Uptown.

That’s what we Marsh boys have been taught to do with a car. Screw taking it someplace and laying real money out, when you can put it up on blocks somewhere and alienate your friends by imposing. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I’m not a homeowner yet, so I don’t have a yard where I can put cars on blocks. Had to settle for my buddy Danny’s extra alley space.

Yup, we fix our cars like decent folk used to get abortions.

So this last Sunday, my buddy Danny wasn’t only gracious enough to let us use his alley for what’s now, thanks to the cold snap that started on Tuesday, an indeterminate amount of time (Only joking, Danny! We’ll be back this Saturday to, ahem, get ‘er done–I promise.), but he even brought out a couple of beers while my dad and I started the job.

Dad showed up around noon, and after we jacked up the Dodge, while we were waiting for the loosening agent to start working on the wheel, he shocked me.

“Took your mother to a movie last night.”


“Yeah. Took her to see Rambo. God, Stevie, you gotta see that.”


“Yeah, Rush had Sly Stallone on on Friday. God, it was a good movie. A lot of shooting and explosions—mom couldn’t watch it anymore about halfway through.”

Turns out Rambo is kind of a message movie. Operation Burmese Freedom, as it were. My dad had more surprises. Now he was lying on a blanket in the alley, grunting underneath the front end as he removed parts from the car. I crouched over him and handed him various tools, and tried to pay attention to the procedure, but basically just prayed the jacked-up Dynasty wouldn’t collapse on top of my 66-year-old father, who was lying on a blanket next to a snowbank. Just crouched there and tried to control my shame, basically.

“Did you see that Obama talk? Wow, he sure is a good talker.”


“If McCain gets the nomination, I think I’m going to vote for him.”


“Uh-huh. I haven’t voted for a Democratic nominee for President since 1960. But if the conservatives can’t nominate somebody conservative, they don’t deserve my vote.”

“Really? Would you vote for Hillary too?”


“Ron Paul is conservative, dad.”

“Sure, and I kind of like Ron Paul. But he doesn’t have a chance, Steve. And he wants to end the war.”

We got the wheel off first, and then we (oh, who am I kidding–he) removed the disc brakes. But he started having problems with the nut on the end of the hub. He cursed a couple times. “Hey, does your friend Dan have a hammer?”

“I’ll check.”

“Do you remember that song, ‘If I had a Hammer’?”


“It was a Peter, Paul and Mary song. How did it go? Lemme think. [Starts singing.] If I had a hammer/I’d hammer in the morning…

Dan was working on putting a new baby seat in the backseat of his car in his garage. I shouted towards the garage. Asked him if he had a hammer in there.

“Of course.”

“And, Danny, do you know the song, ‘If I Had a Hammer’?”

“Of course I do! [Starts singing.] If I had a hammer/I’d hammer in the morning/I’d hammer in the evening/All over this land. [Starts singing more confidently.] I’d hammer out danger!/I’d hammer out a warning!/I’d hammer out love between my brothers and sisters…


Alex is Fired Up

Favre throws another crucial interception.


Your 1998

I had mixed emotions watching the Packers lose yesterday–I really thought I wanted the epic Brady-Favre match-up (figured Moss could get his ring at the Pack’s expense). But watching the game at Chammp’s Eden Prairie last night, watching some Packer fan freak out inappropriately while his nice, blonde, probably-Minnesota-raised wife and their two little girls sat there praying for the game to end, praying for daddy to stop being so angry; as I sat there thinking about all my insufferable Packer-fan friends in Uptown and how horrible Super Bowl week was going to be, to say nothing about the inevitable trash talk I would suffer through all of next season, and god forbid, what if they fucking beat the Pats? Well, I just couldn’t help it, you know? Watching Al Harris get used, watching Ryan Grant get stonewalled, watching the Mr. Hyde Brett Favre throw a fairy-tale-killing OT pick that will be on ESPN Classic for all eternity…delightful.

And then The Strib’s Michael Rand nailed it this morning: “Oh, Packers fans. Now you know what it’s like. This is your 1998. Drink it in. Enjoy that bitter taste. It lasts a lifetime.”


The Sports Guy on Juno

From Bill Simmons’ column today:

Q: Do you think the Jags are like “The Shawshank Redemption”? They seemed to be a sleeper team of destiny but picked the wrong year to win the Super Bowl (because of the Patriots). “Shawshank” was a sleeper movie destined to win Best Picture and picked the wrong year to do it (because of “Forrest Gump”).
— Pat C., New York

SG: I don’t know. I’d compare the Jags more to “Juno” — a very cute, extremely well-done movie that received a little too much acclaim and couldn’t compete with the big horses during awards season. And by the way, if we’re comparing 2007 movies to 2007 NFL teams, “Margot at the Wedding” would definitely be Kansas City — a promising start followed by everything going straight to hell, to the point that fans/customers were staring at each other in disbelief wondering what was happening. Bonus points here for the fact careers were ruined in the process. Herm Edwards as an NFL coach, Jack Black as a serious actor. I’d like my $10 back, please.

Two Electrifying Speakers

Forget about Obama channeling MLK or Hillary evoking Sally Field, Stephenhero’s Lincoln (NE) Correspondent Ross Brockley turned me on to the way in which Neil Armstrong’s statuesque Apollo 11 Press Conference echoes through the halls of history, acoustically reemerging in John McCain’s acceptance speech in N.H. earlier this week. Inspirational? Boring as fuck? Uncomfortable to watch in that unnerving, shifty-eyed-phony sort of manner? Judge for thyself.

First Neil:

Then Johnny Rock:

Gimme More 84!

Bought a bottle of wine at Lowry-Hill liquor store last night and discovered the most compelling grassroots campaign since Ron Paul was derailed by the Diebold machines in New Hampshire. is run by one of Lowry Hill’s employees, and it includes “Moss-Tastic videos” and there’s supposed to be a petition that you can sign to support 84’s return, but I couldn’t find it. Also, it hasn’t really been updated since Week 5 of the NFL season, but I’m not really in a position to call anybody out for lazy blogging.

Look, I’m realistic–there’s little chance the Super Freak will ever wear purple again especially, after the way he was run out of Minnesota (by the same casually racist “progressives” who are pushing Hillary Clinton on us right now, btw), but he is on a one-year contract with the Patriots, and who knows, if he wins a ring in a few weeks in New England, he might consider a ton of free agent $$$$$. Zygi’s got it, and we need a receiver….