KICKOFF WEEKEND

It was a big weekend at the Turdpolisher ranch. Sunday, the kick-off to the NFL season found me planted in front of the tube to watch Drew Brees and the New Orleans Saints dismantle the Detroit Lions. Saturday, LSU slapped down the Commodores of Vanderbilt. I watched that one firmly ensconced in my beer-chair. Friday night brpught another round of high school football highlights to shoot.But team turd kicked off the football season Thursday night. It was the season opener for the St. Jean Vianney 8th grade Gators, and the first game of the Littlest Loaf Pincher's senior season.He's taken the DNA I've given him (which ain't much) and worked his way into a starting position on the defensive team -- outside linebacker at that.

The Gators took on some big-ole boys from the land of milk and hayseeds. Hell, their cheerleaders outweighed our offensive line. But that didn't stop the black and red from spilling a little Bear blood on the turf.

Gators lost the first half, but the offense took control in the third, and kept the ball for the full eight minutes, and forced the Bears into two 3-and-outs in the fourth. All-in-all, a decent outing against a team way out of our league. Final 32-6.

LLP? He had a decent game. Three tackles, a couple assists, and made a touchdown saving tackle.Actually, the big guy steam-rolled him, but LLP held on until he brought him down.

I gotta start feeding that boy, or give him some rocks to carry in his pants.

IT'S A CRAPPY JOB . . .

X-Ray Ted threatened to do it. But somebody beat him to it.

From Newsblues.

There's an all-points manhunt underway at Raycom's WXIX-19-Fox in Cincinnati (Market #33), where staffers are on the lookout for a mystery dumpster who struck under cover of darkness.

According to an internal memo from Assistant News Director Marita Matray: "Last night, someone took a dump on the floor of the men’s room. Yep, you understand correctly. Someone took a big ole’ number two smack dab in the middle of the floor of the men’s restroom. No one on the 10pm crew seems to know who did it. The cleaning crew cleaned it up."

A furious General Manager Bill Lanesey has vowed to flush out the mad crapper: "With God as my witness, if I find out who did this, I will fire you. With prejudice!"

Not surprisingly, neither Lanesey nor News Director Steve Ackermann responded to our email inquiries. The culprit, we assume, remains on the loose, perhaps plotting a follow-up attack on Lanesey's desk.

THE CRADLE WILL ROCK

My apologies to EvH and Mr. Roth for the title of this post, but there's a new king of rock at Camp Polisher, and it wears a bright red mohawk.Who knew the Littlest Loaf Pincher had pipes?

He's been banging the skins for more than five years now. Two years ago, he hooked up with a group of guys from the Baton Rouge Music Studios and, with the help of the music school, formed High Voltage -- a rag-tag collection of rockers from across Cap City. At age 13, the LLP is the old man of the group.

The group lost it's singer for the summer. Not good when the band has only seven weeks to put together a set for Summer Slam.

And Baton Rouge Music Studios upped the ante this year. At stake, studio time to record an original tune -- 50 CD copies of said tunage complete with artwork and liner-notes.

Without a singer, things didn't look good for the guys from High Voltage. At the first rehearsal, LLP filled in on Mississippi Queen and TNT, and never looked back.

At Summer Slam, he did two songs from behind the drum kit and stepped out front to close the show.

Now, is someone could just learn to stand back from the stage to shoot the damn thing, maybe you won't have to strain to hear him next time.Oh, the contest? Out of nine bands, High Voltage took the Runner-Up slot to a smoking band of high-schoolers. Hat's off to Time Traveler. You guys (and gal) rawk.

IT'S OFFICIAL . . .

. . . I suck. At least at this blogging thing lately. Hopefully today, I will suck a little bit less.Ya see, I haven't been resting on my ever-expanding laurels. I've been busy. For the last 353 days I've been getting up early -- 5:30am early. And pounding the keys. Most days it came out jibberish. Occasionally, the monkeys in my brain were able to string together enough syllables, and I gave birth.Okay, a manifesto it ain't. But earth-shaking revelations aside, it's more than 200 pages of bluster and 'tude from a custy photog with a really cool handle.

I ain't telling you all this to so that you'll rush out and order these slick sheets of bathroom stationary. (Hell, I still gotta find someone who thinks it's worth the trouble of wasting all that ink to mass produce this turd.) It's more an explanation and an apology for leaving you in a lurch without your recommended daily allowance of fecal matter.Wish I had better news. Now it's time to edit this bitch. Probably gonna have to throw it away and start over. Shit!

IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS

I've always said it's the little things that make life worth living. The smile on the face of a kid with an ice cream, a sarcastic comment from a friend when you're taking things a bit too seriously, a friend's hand on your shoulder when you're about to lose your shit.

Last night, Mrs. Polisher proved that again. It ain't easy living with a crusty old fart like me. Don't believe me, just ask her. I can be a real pain in the ass when I want to -- even when I don't. But Mrs. P has put up with me for more that 20 years now. Through the early years when I didn't have two pennies to rub together. Through the years when I took this crazy game of TV too seriously. Through the dark months after Hurricane Kartina when I lived every horror story I covered.

Through the missed meals, dates, holidays, and anniversaries that go with this goofy line of work. And late arrivals at the boy's baseball games. The nights alone while I was on a private jet winging my way to and from football games. The endless assignments that canceled trips to see the folks back home.

And after all of that, she still puts up with me. Some days she even likes me. And she shows it through the little things she does. Cooking dinner almost every night. Washing my smelly clothes after a day chasing calamity. Dragging the little loaf-pinchers to-and-fro. And thinking of me even in the most peculiar places.

Yesterday I came home to another one of those little things that remind me how lucky I am.With SwampAss Season under way, here's hoping the STW in your life can find an industrial sized bottle of Anti-MonkeyButt powder of your own. I ain't sharing mine. It's special.

FEST FOR ALL

After my experience with the foul-mouthed crowd of people who call themselves musicians these days, I thought it would be a while before taking in another concert. But as a dad with teen-agers who live for guitar licks and drum solos, it was not meant to be. This weekend, the little loaf pinchers drug me to Baton Rouge's answer to Jazz Fest. A weekend of free music in the streets of downtown.The handsome dude pounding the skins is the Littlest Loar-Pincher. He and his band, High Voltage, took the kids stage for a four-song set. At 13, he's the old man of the group. The singer rings in at the tender age of 11.They're part of Baton Rouge Music Studio's Young Band Development Program. A chance for young musicians to shine outside their school band program. Besides music, the kids get a taste of what it's like to be in a band. Rehearsals, conflicts, communication, everything but the seedy dives and broken-down vans. And there's no greasy manager trying to rip them off.What's in their song set? Metallica? Disturbed? Kanye? Brittney Spears? Nah, these kids go in for the classics. Stuff written before they were even a thought. hell, I was barely older than an embryo when this stuff was written. But The Beatles are timeless.

Want more? Check out the entire set on YouTube. Or see them and all the other aspiring musicians at The Mellow Mushroom next Satruday, May 9, 4pm. Bring your mop wigs and Lennon sunglasses.

DON'T CALL US

Nothing I can say can top the video. Imagine being the photog who had to make this call. Maybe 'slinger can come up with something poetic about this situation, but every time I watch it, it just gives me the willies.

Wonder if he's still got a job or just getting the suits for that furlough plan they concocted to save a little dough?