The final episode of “The Shield” aired Tuesday night. I won’t ruin it for those who haven’t watched it yet, but I was a little disappointed. There was no twist at the end, no real jaw dropper. Continuing a pattern that has been going on for the last two years of the show, everything was neatly wrapped up by show’s end. Don’t get me wrong, the “Sopranos” finale sucked. At least the writers on “The Shield” tried to have some closure for the seven years that I’ve invested in watching it.
The show started seven years ago, and from day one it was like no other cop show. As lead protagonist/antagonist, Vic Mackey might say, “It was a different kind of a cop show.”
Much like Tony Soprano, Vic Mackey was the anti-hero. Even after doing all kinds of bad deeds, including murder, you found yourself mesmerized and wondering what he would do next.
Even though “The Shield” had fallen off a little in the last two seasons, it was one of the few non-sports TV programs that I tried to catch each week. The memorable characters will long be remembered. Vic’s Strike Team of Shane, Lem, and Ronnie. The good cops, Dutch, Claudette, Julian, Danni. Gangbangers, The Biz Lats, the One-Niners. Great season long guest stars, Forrest Whitaker, and Glenn Close. Bad guys, Antoine Mitchell, the Armadillo, the Armenians, and many others.
If you haven’t seen the show, I highly recommend watching the DVDs starting with season one, episode one. You won’t be disappointed. One more thing if you haven’t seen it yet, don’t expect “The Wire.” “Wire” is great, it’s nothing like “The Shield” though
Friday, November 28, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Jags vs Browns
The following takes place between 8am and 8pm last Sunday.
8:31am….I Call my brother to see if he wants to go to the Jags/Browns NFL game.
8:35….I hear the unmistakable metallic sound of a Red and White (Budweiser, fool) being popped open---it’s not his first of the day. So I know he’s in.
9:12….I have some unfinished business from last night to take care of.
9:14….Unfinished business now finished, I drop her off at her dorm, and make a couple of pre-game stops.
10:51….Arrive at my brother’s place. Way out in the woods of Northeast Florida. If you drive the ¼ mile dirt driveway all the way up to his house you must know him. Or, perhaps, just have a warrant*kidding*.
11:01….I bury my first Bloody Mary. Clamato Juice, Old Bay seasoning, and the Goose. That’s the way to pound a 32oz. Bloody Mary. When the Vodka runs out, Clamato and Bud Light are pretty damn good.
12:16pm….We’re watching NFL pre-game shows and NASCAR pre-race shows. Is Boomer Esiason the only one who knows the game? How are Terry Bradshaw and Jimmy Spencer still on TV?
1:45….After watching most of the first half of some bad NFL game---the race still hasn’t started---we head to Freakville for the Jags 4pm kickoff.
2:41….Dude didn’t have any parking spots left at his house, so we’re parked at the church across the street for $20. We sit here for about 30 minutes watching the race on the portable TV. I call my boy, P-Diddy (not that one, fool) from Charleston to see if he’s at the game. He is, we’ll grab a drink inside the stadium with him. A cooler full of beer and no port-o-lets at the church take their toll. So, we head the 200 yards to the stadium.
3:33….I break a cardinal rule and buy tickets from the first scalper I see. It works out this time, though. Two, $58 tix for $25 apiece. We won’t be sitting in them anyway.
3:55…We are inside the Bud Zone above the South end zone. Surprisingly, it’s not too crowded. You can actually walk through there without rubbing your arms all in some stripper’s Tetons. Damn!
4:01….Out onto the Bud Zone patio overlooking the Southwest corner of the end zone just in time for kickoff. We have a cool little crew surrounding us, two tall, dreadlocked bros to my left who continuously yell “Bluuu”. They think it’s hilarious when I yell “Blahhh” in return. Directly in front of us we have one big redneck, his girl, and three strippers, old strippers, but still putting it out there. Who am I to judge?
4:32….I look at my phone and see 4 missed calls from P-Diddy. I go down to field level to use the facilities and my phone.
4:56….Still can’t reach Diddy. I know, I’ll call that #1 Browns’ fan---JOKERSWILD---.
5:05….Damn, Browns have scored again. I walk through the tunnel right past some rent-a-cops, until I’m up against the short chain link fence at the back of the end zone. Browns are kicking off right in front of me. I call JOKERSWILD and we either got cut off or he hung up on me. I redial, he answers, and now there’s a hand on my shoulder. One of the guards figured out I wasn’t supposed to be on the field right as I was telling JW to look for me in the end zone. As I was listening to the guard, JW was asking me if I was being kicked out of the stadium. I told him, “no, just off the field.”
5:30…. Back upstairs I run into P-Diddy and his crew. We drink a couple more cocktails and Diddy and one of his partners come join my group on the patio.
6:22….*Actual Game Alert* Jags kicker, Josh Scobee runs down Browns alleged all-pro return man, and makes vicious tackle.
It all gets hazy after this. I heard that the Browns won. I do remember that I was trying to sell CDs for the dreadlocked bros to any hotts that passed by. I also remember the bros had a camera and were getting some nice mountain scenery. Except for that one old stripper who didn’t want her pic with me. Imagine that. I told her don’t expect me to show up during the day shift to tip her. I also remember the ride home, so everything worked out.
8:31am….I Call my brother to see if he wants to go to the Jags/Browns NFL game.
8:35….I hear the unmistakable metallic sound of a Red and White (Budweiser, fool) being popped open---it’s not his first of the day. So I know he’s in.
9:12….I have some unfinished business from last night to take care of.
9:14….Unfinished business now finished, I drop her off at her dorm, and make a couple of pre-game stops.
10:51….Arrive at my brother’s place. Way out in the woods of Northeast Florida. If you drive the ¼ mile dirt driveway all the way up to his house you must know him. Or, perhaps, just have a warrant*kidding*.
11:01….I bury my first Bloody Mary. Clamato Juice, Old Bay seasoning, and the Goose. That’s the way to pound a 32oz. Bloody Mary. When the Vodka runs out, Clamato and Bud Light are pretty damn good.
12:16pm….We’re watching NFL pre-game shows and NASCAR pre-race shows. Is Boomer Esiason the only one who knows the game? How are Terry Bradshaw and Jimmy Spencer still on TV?
1:45….After watching most of the first half of some bad NFL game---the race still hasn’t started---we head to Freakville for the Jags 4pm kickoff.
2:41….Dude didn’t have any parking spots left at his house, so we’re parked at the church across the street for $20. We sit here for about 30 minutes watching the race on the portable TV. I call my boy, P-Diddy (not that one, fool) from Charleston to see if he’s at the game. He is, we’ll grab a drink inside the stadium with him. A cooler full of beer and no port-o-lets at the church take their toll. So, we head the 200 yards to the stadium.
3:33….I break a cardinal rule and buy tickets from the first scalper I see. It works out this time, though. Two, $58 tix for $25 apiece. We won’t be sitting in them anyway.
3:55…We are inside the Bud Zone above the South end zone. Surprisingly, it’s not too crowded. You can actually walk through there without rubbing your arms all in some stripper’s Tetons. Damn!
4:01….Out onto the Bud Zone patio overlooking the Southwest corner of the end zone just in time for kickoff. We have a cool little crew surrounding us, two tall, dreadlocked bros to my left who continuously yell “Bluuu”. They think it’s hilarious when I yell “Blahhh” in return. Directly in front of us we have one big redneck, his girl, and three strippers, old strippers, but still putting it out there. Who am I to judge?
4:32….I look at my phone and see 4 missed calls from P-Diddy. I go down to field level to use the facilities and my phone.
4:56….Still can’t reach Diddy. I know, I’ll call that #1 Browns’ fan---JOKERSWILD---.
5:05….Damn, Browns have scored again. I walk through the tunnel right past some rent-a-cops, until I’m up against the short chain link fence at the back of the end zone. Browns are kicking off right in front of me. I call JOKERSWILD and we either got cut off or he hung up on me. I redial, he answers, and now there’s a hand on my shoulder. One of the guards figured out I wasn’t supposed to be on the field right as I was telling JW to look for me in the end zone. As I was listening to the guard, JW was asking me if I was being kicked out of the stadium. I told him, “no, just off the field.”
5:30…. Back upstairs I run into P-Diddy and his crew. We drink a couple more cocktails and Diddy and one of his partners come join my group on the patio.
6:22….*Actual Game Alert* Jags kicker, Josh Scobee runs down Browns alleged all-pro return man, and makes vicious tackle.
It all gets hazy after this. I heard that the Browns won. I do remember that I was trying to sell CDs for the dreadlocked bros to any hotts that passed by. I also remember the bros had a camera and were getting some nice mountain scenery. Except for that one old stripper who didn’t want her pic with me. Imagine that. I told her don’t expect me to show up during the day shift to tip her. I also remember the ride home, so everything worked out.
Fish Daddy
Fish Daddy had a little house that his mom left him in rural Va. Beach. It originally was called the ‘Marsh Hut’, but its name was changed to the ‘Cut Hut’ during the 80s. Fish Daddy was dealing and had a voracious appetite for his product, which was the ‘whitey’, cocaine. This led to him cutting his product as much as he could with whatever was available. Thus, the ‘Cut Hut’. During this high time Fish Daddy was also referred to as “Boots” due to all the stomping he did on the coke.
The Cut Hut burnt to the ground one day due to Fish Daddy’s father doing some soldering on the old copper pipes. Money jars were set up in the local bars and businesses to help Fish Daddy out. Guess what he spent all the money on? Someone gave Fish Daddy a camper trailer. The kind you pull behind a car. About six feet wide and 12 feet long. Fish Daddy set it up in the yard in front of the charred ruins of the house. Somehow he got a temporary power pole set up beside the trailer, so he had electricity.
Fish Daddy had a steady girlfriend at this time, and she looked pretty good until she started staying up for days free basing. To this day Fish Daddy swears that the girlfriend burnt the camper trailer to the ground during a binge. No big deal, Fish Daddy got another free trailer. Smaller than the first one, though. This second trailer didn’t last as long as the first one. Yes, it too was destroyed by fire. That was enough for the City of Virginia Beach, they condemned the property, Fish Daddy moved on, and the land was eventually sold for back taxes.
The Cut Hut burnt to the ground one day due to Fish Daddy’s father doing some soldering on the old copper pipes. Money jars were set up in the local bars and businesses to help Fish Daddy out. Guess what he spent all the money on? Someone gave Fish Daddy a camper trailer. The kind you pull behind a car. About six feet wide and 12 feet long. Fish Daddy set it up in the yard in front of the charred ruins of the house. Somehow he got a temporary power pole set up beside the trailer, so he had electricity.
Fish Daddy had a steady girlfriend at this time, and she looked pretty good until she started staying up for days free basing. To this day Fish Daddy swears that the girlfriend burnt the camper trailer to the ground during a binge. No big deal, Fish Daddy got another free trailer. Smaller than the first one, though. This second trailer didn’t last as long as the first one. Yes, it too was destroyed by fire. That was enough for the City of Virginia Beach, they condemned the property, Fish Daddy moved on, and the land was eventually sold for back taxes.
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