Still crazy

 The madness transfers. There's your unhappy thought on this second morning of our fresh-from-the-wrapper year.

We threw 2024 on the ash heap of history yesterday, but two days into 2025 it's the same old lunatic's ball, here in America. A cyber truck exploded outside a Trump property in Las Vegas on the first day of 2025. And in New Orleans, Notre Dame and Georgia are still waiting to play the Sugar Bowl because yet another crazy person decided it would be fun to ring in the New Year by taking a ride in his truck.

Right down Bourbon Street at 3:15 on the morning on January 1.

Right through and over the mass of revelers -- including, you have to think, more than a few Notre Dame and Georgia fans -- still partying the night away, because, what the hell, it was New Orleans and it was the New Year.

The death toll from Crazy Person's little excursion has now hit 15, with more than 30 injured. That doesn't include Crazy Person, who apparently had an ISIS flag flapping from his pickup's hitch and died in a shootout with police when he climbed out of his truck with a gun (of course, this being America) and started blazing away.

The dead Crazy Person was identified as Shamsud-Din Jabbar, 42, who hailed from Texas. He was a U.S. citizen and Army veteran, so at least the MAGAs can't whip up more nativist paranoia about dangerous illegals coming here by the hundreds of thousands solely to rape, kill and pillage.

In this case, the feds are classifying the attack as an act of terror, given Jabbar's ISIS flag and the discovery of several "improvised explosive devices" found at the scene. The latter, presumably, is what mainly prompted Sugar Bowl officials to postpone the game until today.

And in the meantime ...

In the meantime, welcome to the new year, same as the old year. Same madness. Same violence. Same resentment and irrational fury -- and all of it stoked by the usual lies and half-truths from the usual snake-oil salesmen and charlatans, operating from the usual divide-and-conquer playbook.

It's tempting to say these days there is more of this than ever, but that is captive-of-the-moment stuff. Religious and cultural fanaticism, after all, have always been with us. Murderous insanity, too. And the fear-mongering rhetoric about diseased and lawless immigrants "poisoning the blood of America" (as our president-elect so charmingly put it) is as old as the republic itself.

Go back to the 1840s, and the MAGAs of their time were saying the same things about the Irish, who were going to turn America over to the Pope. And then the Germans with their radical ideologies. And then the alien Chinese ... and the bomb-throwing anarchists from Eastern Europe ... and the criminal Italians ... and right on up to the Muslims and pet-eating Haitians and murderous Venezuelan drug cartels coming here to poison our children with fentanyl.

Of a piece, all of it. And (one more unhappy thought) it's likely to get worse before it gets better, because on January 20 one of the fear-mongering snake-oil salesmen brings his own pack of Crazy Persons to Washington for the next four years.

Let's be clear here: This in no way is to equate them with the Crazy Person who ran down Bourbon Street partiers in the wee hours yesterday.  That sort of madness is wholly separate from the madness about to descend upon us. The former is true psychopathy; the latter, merely policy.

America is a great nation, but like all great nations it was built on bloody conquest in pursuit of that greatness. Regrettably, that has translated for a certain segment of humanity to a might-makes-right theology, and the notion that violence for righteousness' sake is a noble thing. 

Righteousness, of course, being defined by whoever chooses to define it.

At one end of the spectrum, the guy who posted an interwhosis rendering of Donald Trump above the message it was time to "kick some ass".

At the other, a certain Crazy Person from Texas, three hours into a New Year that's not so new, driving onto a sidewalk in a pickup to kill as many people as possible.

A great big thank you ...

 ... to that school up north, as Woody Hayes used to call it.

Yes, that's right, you goofy folks wearing buckeye necklaces and the like, it's time to stop singing (as you love to do) that you don't give  damn for the whole state of Michigan. Because it appears as if the whole state of Michigan -- or at least the University Of -- has done you a solid.

See what happened yesterday out in Pasadena?

Yes, that's right, boys and girls. Your Ohio State Buckeyes knocked undefeated No. 1 seed Oregon out of the College Football Playoff -- and not just knocked the Ducks out of it, but knocked them out of it. A couple of months after losing by a point to Oregon in Eugene, the Bucks floored the Ducks early and never let 'em off the mat, winning 41-21 in a Rose Bowl that wasn't even that close.

I mean, Ryan Day's troops were up 34-0 before Oregon knew what hit it. It was pretty much finished by halftime, when Ohio State led 34-8. Anyone who says they saw that coming ... ah, let's face it. Nobody saw that coming.

In any case, it's on to the CFP semis against Texas, which needed two overtimes to beat an Arizona State team at least some of us (OK, so, me, ahem) were saying was going to be six flavors of dangerous. But a pick in the second OT saved the Longhorns, and now they get an Ohio State team that hasn't been the same since a then 6-5 Michigan team walked into Columbus and beat the Buckeyes -- again -- on Thanksgiving weekend.

And when I say Ohio State hasn't been the same since?

I mean that in a good way.

That's because the Buckeyes have been an enraged terror since, utilizing the best receiving corps in the nation to warp supposed SEC superior Tennessee 42-17 in the first round, and then make Duck flambe out of previously invincible Oregon. Two games; two wins by an average margin of 22.5 points. The Bucks are now the clear favorite to win the national title -- and it seems obvious they have Michigan to thank for the wakeup call.

Which must be killing everyone in the great state of O-HI-O. 

And it probably doesn't sit well with everyone in the great state of Mich-I-Gan, either.

Imagine, after all, some UM fan wrapped in his/her maize-and-blue fleece watching his/her most bitter rival playing for the national championship. And realizing that their underdog Wolverines whupping the Buckeyes for the fourth straight year was the start of it all.

Great, we woke 'em up, you can imagine them thinking. Now why the hell did we go and do THAT?

And meanwhile, down in Columbus, Ohio State fan wrapped in his/her scarlet-and-gray fleece is having a tough time getting his/her words out.

Thanks for this, Michi- ... Michi- ... Michi- ...

Dammit!

Throwback Day

 New Year's Day morning, and I don't care what the calendar says. It may be 2025 in the wider world, but in my kitchen right now it feels like 1970, 1971, 1972, any number of bygone years.

It feels like New Year's Day again, in other words.

I say this because, for the first time in years, today is not cluttered with a pile of inconsequential chain steakhouse, credit card or car rental bowls. No, sir. Today, New Year's Day is Throwback Day -- that delicious time when we sat down about noon and didn't get up until almost midnight, because January 1 was when they rolled out the big dogs.

You had your Cotton Bowl and your Sugar Bowl and your Rose Bowl, and then you had your Orange Bowl to finish up. Everyone involved was either in the mix for the national title or in the mix to throw a wrench in the proceedings. And you didn't find any stray posers hanging around, all those Harlequin States and Northwest Eastern Techs playing in either a minor fruit bowl or a used-car dealer bowl.

Today feels like that. And we've got the expanded College Football Playoff to thank.

Without it, Texas would not be squaring off against Arizona State in the Peach Bowl, and Oregon and Ohio State would not be meeting in a clash of titans in the Rose Bowl, and two more heavyweights, Notre Dame and Georgia, would not be slugging it out in the Sugar Bowl. Just as back in the day, it'll be a day-long narrative that will play out from one game to the next. It'll be, finally, New Year's Day again.

And, sure, it's not exactly the same as it used to be. At the end of the day, we won't have a national champion; we'll have the four semifinalists in the chase for it. Penn State's already in, having punched its ticket by rolling over Boise State in the Fiesta Bowl last night.

As for the rest ...

Well, I'm going with Texas over Arizona State in the Peach, but it'll be closer than a lot of people think. The Rose ... hell, that's a coin flip, but I'll say Oregon. Same with the Sugar, but I'll be provincial and pick the Fighting Irish in an all-out Arturo Gatti/Micky Ward style slugfest.

In any event ...

Enjoy the first day of 1971 (or '72, or '73). I will.

Crimson Fried

 So now it's 2025, and already the best of the bowl games are behind us. This is because they've already played the ReliaQuest Bowl (and, no, I don't know what a ReliaQuest is, so don't even ask), and something fairly wondrous happened.

What happened was, Alabama lost for the fourth and last time this season.

To Michigan.

Which lost to Indiana.

Whom all the wise guys and SEC carnival barkers -- lookin' at you, ESPN -- were saying had NO BUSINESS being in the College Football Playoff, and that it was an ABSOLUTE TRAVESTY the pud-ly Hoosiers were there instead of, say, a mighty behemoth like Alabama, which would have blown the pud-lies off the face of the world had they played.

"Alabama would have beaten both Indiana and Notre Dame by 14 points," one such person bellowed on the Magic Twitter Thingy, after Notre Dame knocked out Indiana in the first round.

Say a prayer for that poor deluded soul, America. And for all the other poor souls who spent a couple of weeks saying something similar.

If this weren't 2025 in America, when people not only say stupid stuff but double down on it, they'd be feeling a bit embarrassed today having talked up Alabama as a legitimate CFP team. Good call there, boys and girls. The Crimson Fried couldn't even beat a depleted 7-5 Big Ten team -- Michigan was missing half its defensive line -- in a minor bowl, but, sure, they deserved to be in the CFP and Indiana didn't.

Had the Blob not promised to be a kinder, gentler Blob in 2025, it would be laughing hysterically right now.

Ah, shoot. There goes that New Year's resolution.

A few brief thoughts on the NFL Week 17

 And now this week's special New Year's Eve edition of The NFL In So Many Words, the festive Blob feature that rings out the old, rings in the new, and of which critics have said "Imma slap you so hard your ears will ring," and also "I got your ring right here - a ring of fire with you in the middle":

1. "Hey, look, guys! It's almost a new year! Perfect time to turn over a new leaf!" (The Jets, the Browns, the Patriots, the Raiders, the Giants)

2. "Hey, we already did, losers!" (The Raiders who punked the Saints 25-10, and the Giants, who knocked the Colts out of the playoffs, 45-33)

3. "Yah, like beating our unmotivated hineys was hard." (The Saints and Colts)

4. In other news, Joe Burrow!

5. Threw for more than 300 yards again. Threw for four touchdowns again. Kept the Bengals alive in the playoff chase, at least if you do a lot of math.

6. "But what if we don't WANNA turn over a new leaf?" (Burrow and the Bengals, to the New Year)

7.  "Yah, we like the old one just fine, thanks." (The Chiefs, the Bills, the Eagles, the Lions, the Vikings, the Ravens)

8. "A new leaf? Who needs a new leaf? We're STILL goin' to the Super Bowl, dammit!" (Cowboys fans, despite losing 41-7 to the Eagles and having already been eliminated from the playoffs)

9. "In the New Year, maybe Cowboys fans will finally get the help they need." (Everyone else in America)

10. "Nah, I doubt it." (Also everyone else in America)

The splendid example

 The good Lord called his servant home at exactly the right time, as it turns out. Nobody ever said the Big Guy wasn't down with the timing thing, after all.

And so Jimmy Carter went to his reward over the weekend after he'd seen a full century of years, and after he'd gotten to vote in one last election, and after he'd celebrated his savior's birth one last time. Then, finally, he passed away before having to watch a man re-inhabit the White House who is the polar opposite of everything he embodied. 

A craven, grasping charlatan vs. a true follower of Christ: You'd be hard-pressed to find two men more unalike than Donald John Trump and James Earl Carter. One can only surmise Carter was thinking this, as he departed our mortal coil: "Aw, HELL, no. I'm not sticking around for THAT."

Only without the "hell", of course.

Jimmy Carter was the 44th President of the United States, a one-termer whose four years were undistinguished except for the decency of the man who served them. If he was the President on whose watch inflation spiraled into recession and Americans were taken hostage in Iran, he was also the President who got two mortal enemies -- Menachem Begin and Anwar Sadat -- to agree to a fragile peace.

The Camp David Accords were the first treaty between Israel and its Arab neighbors, and they won Begin and Sadat the Nobel Peace Prize in 1979. They were also the very embodiment of Jimmy Carter's core values as a human being -- a legacy far more impactful than anything he did or didn't do as our 44th President.

In the long reach of history he was not the worst president we've ever had nor was he particularly close; distance lends perspective, as it tends to do, and softens as often as it hardens accepted narratives. In the end, Jimmy Carter comes off merely as a man ill-equipped to deal with Washington's more predatory instincts, not to say its Byzantine snarl of ever-shifting alliances and motives.

And why was he ill-equipped?

Perhaps for the same reason he became America's splendid example: His decency, his faith, and his unquenchable Christian impulse to do the most good for the most people during his time on earth.

The common theme has always been he failed as a President but beat everyone as an ex-President, and even in these stubbornly partisan times you'll hardly get an argument on that. He was a man of faith who lived his faith one Habitat for Humanity home at a time, showing America what America should be with every nail driven or beam measured twice and cut once.

It goes without saying we've needed that reminder often since Jimmy Carter left the White House. And never more so than now, with felons, reprobates and out-and-out loonies about to occupy it again -- and with the full blessing of a certain species of "Christians." 

God bless you, President Carter. My your memory be eternal, and your example forever our north star.

A telling exit

 Here's the punchline, on this dreary morning after: They lost to a guy named Drew.

And, no, not the good Drew. The Drew who, until yesterday, had thrown almost as many interceptions (27) as touchdown passes (29) in six seasons, and who had a career rating a tick over 78, and who less than two months ago was third-string on the depth chart behind, um, Tommy DeVito.

Yes, that Drew: Drew Lock, career backup/washout, who yesterday threw for 309 yards and four touchdowns, with a 155.3 passer rating, against a team that needed to win to stay in the playoff hunt.

That team was the Indianapolis Colts.

Yesterday, in a game that meant everything to them and nothing to their opponents, they said "nah" to the playoffs and lost, 45-33. Lost by 12 points to Drew Lock and the now 3-13 New York Giants, the worst team in the National Football League.

Gave up 45 points, the Colts did, to a team that hadn't scored more than 14 in a game in a month. Missed a bunch of tackles. Recorded zero sacks. Never led after Lock threw a 31-yard touchdown pass to Malik Nabers with a minute left in the first quarter; were outscored 10-0 after drawing within 35-33 with 6:38 to play.

Know what that fairly screams, in seven-league flashing neon?

Not a lot of want-to in this group.

Not a lot of pride. Not a lot of focus. Not a lot of ... well, everything.

It was, in short, a telling exit for a team that should never have been in the playoff hunt anyway, and proved it in spades yesterday. And the blame for that begins not with the players, but with the leadership that slapped together this crash site.

It begins with an owner (Jim Irsay) who's stuck by a failed general manager (Chris Ballard) for far too long. And with the failed general manager. And with the head coach (Shane Steichen) they hired, and especially with the defensive coordinator (Gus Bradley) they hired.

I suspect Bradley will be the first one out the door, after yesterday. Ballard ought to be next, for putting together a flawed roster. As for Steichen and the rest of his staff ... well, they've messed up the Colts big prize, Anthony Richardson, about as badly as you can mess up a guy. 

Richardson was on the sidelines again yesterday, injured for the umpteenth time in two seasons. "Injury-prone" is never a tag you want to be stuck with, but it seems glued to him now for keeps. "Bust" is another tag you don't want, and if AR is edging toward it, it's unfair just yet to slap that one on his back.

The kid's still only 22, remember. Four years ago he was in high school, just beginning to learn his position. He may never be more than a great athlete playing quarterback (as opposed to a great athletic quarterback), but we'll never know until the Colts clean up their mess and bring in some quarterback whisperer who knows how to develop raw young talent.

Wait. Did I say "until" the Colts clean up their mess?

Perhaps "if" is the better word. Because, you know, they're the Colts.