Libya -- Does EVERYTHING have to be political?

After centuries of  imperialism,colonialism, power brokering and outright hegemony, the Middle East now appears to be, and maybe finally, imploding. The western world has fueled its industrial revolution on the backs of the Middle East. By largely ignoring the general welfare of the population of the area and focusing its 'diplomatic' and laissez-faire efforts and influence merely on the flow of oil, the West is now reaping what it has sown. And unlike the spectral dominoes of Southeast Asia in Vietnam, the Middle East game tiles are real and toppling -- Iran, Iraq, Tunisia, Egypt, Libya... who's next?
Placing blame for all of this is easy.  As cartoon Pogo said, 'we have met the enemy, and they is us.' So. What to do, now?

Kuwaiti oil fields, 1991.

Whatever eventually happens in Libya, the Republican strategy is clear: Blame President Obama for any failure, or separate him from any kind of victory. Even the Democrats are complicit in this, openly second-guessing any Administration philosophy or course of action.

The road to peace and prosperity in the Middle East has gotten longer and more arduous. It does not begin in Washington. It starts in the desert of our despotic dreams, and winds its way through NATO, the Arab League and even the African Union. It is a 'lose-lose' situation for decades to come... but we have to start somewhere. And we have to start together.

Edwin 'Duke' Snider -- 1926-2011

And then there was one. 'Say Hey' Kid now alone in New York's most famous centerfield.

Click headline for official Dodger obituary

Can't anybody here play this game?

Through a glass, darkly: Growing up in Newark, a Brooklyn Dodger fan in a Yankee neighborhood, Spring Training was always the advent of 'next year.' Almost always, the previous season had ended in a Yankee World Series win and a heart-breaking Dodger loss, and the rallying cry of the Brooklyn faithful was 'Wait 'til next year.' And hope sprung eternal.
It was beautiful. There was no trade scuttlebutt, no salary negotiations, no ownership or management folderol. There was only baseball, the Dodgers and the Yankees. God would press a re-start button, and the same exact team that lost in October would take the field for revenge... or not.

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Those were the days, my friend.. and they are surely over, dead and buried, never to return.This is what's left:

From the middle of last summer onwards, what passed for buzz inside CitiField was some sort of vague sense of doom. It had to do with the jailed Ponzi Schemer Bernie Madoff, but no other details emerged. It didn�t seem to make much sense; the Wilpon family had insisted it had not suffered greatly at the hands of the ultimate financial snake oil salesman, and all evidence backed up their assertion. Now it becomes clear that the owners were in trouble not because Madoff had stolen their money, but because he hadn�t. They are the defendants in an extraordinary billion-dollar suit that claims they knowingly pocketed the profits from a kind of privatized Enron disaster. While the action is headed to mediation by former New York Governor (and former Pittsburgh Pirates farmhand) Mario Cuomo, it has already paralyzed the team�s finances and threatens to continue to do so for an indefinite period.

Which explains why the Mets, when still vaguely competitive last June and July, added no payroll. Which explains why the bullets were not bitten on the statues that replaced Luis Castillo and Ollie Perez. Which explains why, when another bat was needed, the Mets could reach only for Mike Hessman. Which explains why men named Wilpon did not take the fall in October.

Jason Bay and Carlos Beltran are enigmas. Jose Reyes is at the critical step, forwards to greatness or backwards towards underachievement. Ike Davis and Josh Thole are dedicated and gifted players who may not bring enough power to their respective positions. The second baseman could be a Rule V draftee. There isn�t one starting pitcher who isn�t weighed down with a huge question mark (Mike Pelfrey�s head, Jon Niese�s endurance, Johan Santana�s shoulder, Dillon Gee�s inexperience, the overall health of Chrisses Young and Capuano, and the likelihood that R.A. Dickey actually found himself last season at the age of 35). And the bullpen? You don�t want to know about the bullpen.
Keith Olbermann

The Jersey Gene -- It's the real thing, baby!

A primer on Jersey Humor
The summer of '63. Nine college guys in their Point Pleasant summer rental home. The Sunday ritual began with mass, everyone hung over, standing in the back of the church; it climaxed with a brunch of bagels, buns, juice and coffee around the kitchen table. Like matadors, the boy/men prepared for the beach. Football? Got it. Wiffle ball? Bat? Blanket? Affirmative.
The official MC at the table was one Gerry O'Keefe, a wiry 6-foot-plus Queen City resident (Plainfield, dummy!) whose dry, sarcastic wit was already legendary. Gerry would read aloud the headlines from the morning papers, ostensibly to prepare the troupe for whatever conversational gambit would attract girls. In the middle of a particularly effective and funny monolog,  he was interrupted by someone who had a friend driving down to Point Pleasant from Wayne who needed highway directions.
"Does 23 go into 46?"
"Yes," Gerry deadpanned. "Twice."
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Every state probably has a hall of fame, a list of natives who made their marks in various human fields of endeavor. New Jersey, being the third smallest state in the Union, would logically have a small contingent. If you believe that, well, you just don't know New Jersey.

Here are two videos that illustrate the uniqueness of the Garden State. The first is a news report of the 2010 gathering of the locally famous; the second is an incredible -- and only partial -- recollection of the state's musical footprint. Both, as the credit card commercial says, are priceless.
 




Thanks to Bob Balascio for forwarding the music video and inspiring this article.