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Lewis Grizzard Wednesday: A fan of the ’93 Phillies

October, 1993 

I’m just as much a Braves fan as the next Atlanta chop-chop yahoo, but I’ve got to admit I’ve come to like the Philadelphia Phillies, too.

You know why? Because the prissy pots don’t.

They quoted this woman at a hair salon in the Atlanta papers recently. She was asked what she thought of the Phillies after watching the first two games of the National League Championship Series.

She said, “The tobacco chewing was pretty gross … I’m an environmentalist and so I just can’t understand the tobacco in terms of putting it into your body. There was also some pretty bad hair out there.”

Go shampoo a goat and leave the Phillies to look as they damn well please.

You hit something white with a stick and then you run and slide around in the dirt. You sweat and you spit and you curse.

In “A League of Their Own” Tom Hanks was trying to explain to one of his female baseball players about the game. She was crying.

“There’s no crying in baseball,” he said.

Of course there isn’t. There’s yelling and screaming and belching and John Kruk of the Phillies reminds me of the kind of guy who probably still thinks it’s funny to make escaping gas sounds by cupping his palm under his armpit.

That is still funny. It’s funnier than “Married … With Children.”

What to do with the prissy pots?

“I’m an environmentalist, so I just can’t understand the tobacco in terms of putting it in your body.”

That’s why they invented chewing tobacco, lady, so baseball players could spit in color. Take Len Dykstra of the Phillies.

Here’s a guy who would put up with Somalia for about as long as he would a hanging curveball. Len Dykstra is trying to win ball games, not get a GQ cover. He doesn’t care if tobacco juice dribbles out of the side of his mouth and onto his uniform. He wants it to do that. He wants to gross you out. It’s what he lives for.

Back to John Kruk. Ol’ John Kruk from West (by-God) Virginia. You look at this guy and you think outdoor plumbing.

He gets a raise, he buys a new satellite dish to put outside the trailer, so he can get all the stations when he isn’t making sounds with

his armpit. There was a quote from him once in Sports Illustrated. A woman saw him smoking a cigarette in the dugout during a spring training game.

She said something like, “Aren’t you ashamed? A professional athlete smoking.”

He responded, “I ain’t a professional athlete. I’m a baseball player.” The man’s a p-l-a-y-e-r.

I like that crazy relief pitcher, too. Mitch Williams. He’d give Queen Elizabeth a hotfoot. Hair? He styles with Kruk’s cigarette lighter.

I’m not on the sports pages anymore, so I can be a homer and root for the Braves.

But I would take the Phillies in a fight, a riot, a war. Send those guys to Somalia.

The only thing wrong with the Phillies is their name. Calling that crowd Phillies is like calling the corner barbershop, Christophe’s.

Call ’em the Muds or the Bloods. Or the Nightmare from the North.

I just happen to like my baseball teams a little on the trashy side.


And it was well worth it


Look, I’m a realist.

Do you really think that Ludacris was going to show up to do a show in Athens out of the goodness of his heart?

Well, in this week’s tale of the offseason college football news cycle, the its a major news item that, for the first time in a while, the gang in Butts Mehre has the audacity to *gasp* actually SPEND some of its financial intake.

Is $65,000 a lot for 15 minutes of work? Sure. It’s on the level of NASCAR teams that collect last-place prize money for running 10 laps and loading up on the trailer.

The anti-football communists and ones who are ok with UGA reverting back to the Goff era may not like the idea of throwing $65,000 around, but that’s a small price to pay for its already proven impact.

The atmosphere at G-Day created an unreal atmosphere for recruits – either in Athens or watching. The program grabbed the attention of the college football world by the horns – oh, and has also reaped immediate windfalls on the recruiting trail.

$65,000? A small price to pay.

Go Dawgs!

Lugnut Dawg


BBQ Thursday: Community Q BBQ

Yesterday, life took me to Decatur, GA.  One thing I pride myself on is my ability to navigate around Atlanta, not being native to there.  My brother has lived all around Atlanta, and I feel like I know my way around pretty well.  Getting off the interstate and driving around the side streets doesn’t bother me, like it might some folks.

But the Decatur area is a place I am not all that familiar with.  I spent a good deal of time there about ten years ago when my mom had an illness that required an extended stay at Emory, but I was mostly confined to the hospital and the surrounding area.

I got finished up with my work around lunch, and contemplated driving home.  My yard is in desperate need of attention, but just for the heck of it I looked up nearby BBQ places.  I saw that Community Q was very close, so I decided to give it a shot.  I had heard good things.

To say I was skeptical when I pulled in was an understatement.  There is a certain standard of which a BBQ joint must meet, and the outside tells you a lot about a place.  Community Q is not far from the Emory Campus on Clairmont Road, and it was nestled in between some Asian restaurants.


Store front

As I walked up, I could smell faint scents of smoked meat, but it was hard to discern what exactly I was smelling.  It was around 1:00 when I got there, and the line was very long, which was a good sign.


I only had to wait in this line for about ten minutes, so it wasn’t so bad.  And I waited in line longer than I waited to get my food once  I ordered.   The fellow at the cash register was talking about the Braves’ move to Cobb County was stupid, so I knew I was with friends.

This was a place I’ve never been to before, and likely won’t get back to anytime soon, so I should have ordered a sampler of many different items.  There were lots of options to choose from.  Brisket, ribs, sausage all looked good.  But this ain’t Texas and it ain’t Fox Bros., and I wasn’t in a rib mood.  When I review a place for the first time, I like to get pulled pork to keep it consistent. Plus, I wasn’t all that hungry, so I just stuck to a pulled pork sandwich and two sides.  Throw in a sweet tea and at tip, my lunch was $16.00, so not exactly a cheap place.

I ordered my sandwich, and asked the guy at the register taking my order which sides to were good.  He said the mac n’ cheese was really good, and also recommended the stew.  Not one to argue with the experts, that is what I got.


First off, the mac n’ cheese was good.  It was fine.  But it wasn’t anything special, in my opinion.  I didn’t even finish it.  The stew was good.  I enjoyed it, but again, it wasn’t anything special.

That takes us to the main attraction, the meat.  This was some of the best barbecue I’ve ever had.  It had a nice char on it, had a great flavor, was tender.  It basically was everything you want in barbecue.   The sauce was pretty good too.

The only regret I have about Community Q is I was by myself and couldn’t share more meat with someone else.

Though not a traditional kind of place, I would rank the pork at Community Q right up there with some of the best I’ve ever had.  If you are in the area, forego the sides and just get meat.  You won’t go home disappointed.   Can’t say enough on how good it was.


Community Q is located at 1361 Clairmont Road in Decatur.  




In Honor Of Opening Day…

Guys, the Braves are going to be terrible this year.  Some out there are optimistic that the fire sale will pay dividends.  I am skeptical, but the jury is still out.

I personally think that the Braves and Freddie Freeman should have parted ways.  I love Freddie, but if you are going to sell off every piece of your team, might as well finish the job.

We have a new (old) Brave in Jeff Francoeur.   Since we can’t enjoy the product on the field this season, let’s sit back and enjoy this funny prank from a few years ago we have all already seen, but it is too funny not to watch again.




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Lewis Grizzard Wednesday: He up and died and broke my heart

My dog Catfish, the black Lab, died Thanksgiving night. The vet said his heart gave out.

Down in the country, they would have said, “Lewis’ dog up and died.” He would have been 12 had he lived ’til January.

Catfish had a good life. He slept indoors. Mostly he ate what I ate. We shared our last meal Tuesday evening in our living room in front of the television. We had a Wendy’s double cheeseburger and some chili.

Catfish was a gift from my friends Barbara and Vince Dooley. Vince, of course, is the athletic director at the University of Georgia. Barbara is a noted speaker and author. I named him driving back to Atlanta from Athens where I had picked him up at the Dooley’s home. I don’t know why I named him what I named him. He was all curled up in a blanket on my back seat. And I looked at him and it just came out. I called him, “Catfish.” I swear he raised up from the blanket and acknowledged. Then he severely fouled the blanket and my back seat.

He was a most destructive animal the first three years of his life. He chewed things. He chewed books. He chewed shoes. “I said to Catfish, ‘Heel,'” I used to offer from behind the dais, “and he went to my closet and chewed up my best pair of Guccis.” Catfish chewed TV remote-control devices. Batteries and all. He chewed my glasses. Five pairs of them.

One day, when he was still a puppy, he got out of the house without my knowledge. The doorbell rang. It was a young man who said, “I hit your dog, but I think he’s OK.” He was. He had a small cut on his head and he was frightened, but he was otherwise unhurt. “I came around the corner,” the young man explained, “and he was in the road chewing on something. I hit my brakes the second I saw him.” “Could you tell what he was chewing on?” I asked. “I know this sounds crazy,” the young man answered, “but I think it was a beer bottle.”

Catfish stopped chewing while I still had a house. Barely.

He was a celebrity, Catfish. I spoke recently in Michigan. Afterwards a lady came up to me and said, “I was real disappointed with your speech. You didn’t mention Catfish.”

He got his own mail. Just the other day the manufacturer of a new brand of dog food called “Country Gold,” with none other than George Jones’ picture on the package, sent Catfish a sample of its new product. For the record, he still preferred cheeseburgers and chili.

Catfish was once grand marshal of the Scottsboro, Ala., “Annual Catfish Festival.” He was on television and got to ride in the front seat of a police car with its siren on.

He was a patient, good-natured dog, too. Jordan, who is five, has been pulling his ears since she was two. She even tried to ride him at times. He abided with nary a growl.

Oh, that face and those eyes. What he could do to me with that face and those eyes. He would perch himself next to me on the sofa in the living room and look at me. And love and loyalty would pour out with that look, and as long as I had that, there was very little the human race could do to harm my self-esteem.

Good dogs don’t love bad people.

He was smart. He was fun. And he loved to ride in cars. There were times he was all that I had. And now he has up and died. My own heart, or what is left of it, is breaking.

Is a big helping of patience in order?

I’m a big fan of winning. It’s better than losing.

Of course, the UGA Athletic Board has the same line of thinking by and large – that’s why Mark Richt is in Coral Gables and Kirby Smart was called to come home to Athens.

In a perfect world, the Smart regime would surpass anything Richt has ever done. But there’s an old saying I once heard – that you cannot make chicken salad without the chicken.

The steal a phrase from Smart’s old boss, ‘it’s a process.’

Georgia may not appear in the mold of how Kirby wants it in September. But will it be toward what he’s envisioning in a three-year plan by the time Auburn comes to town? I’d say odds are good.

There are depth issues at places like running back and inside linebacker. Yes, there’s young talent, but even when you’re in the fire of competition, it’s a learning curve, regardless of the ability.

And make no mistake – if Georgia has a similar record to the end of the Richt era (when Georgia was blessed with an easier schedule than it will face this year), the fans of The University of Mark Richt will be loud boisterous.

But there’s a reason why Georgia pulled the trigger to bring Kirby to Athens.

My prediction is this: It may not show with the record – but Smart will have this program headed in the right direction by November.

Go Dawgs!

Lugnut Dawg