Fortress: MSG.

The board is set, the pieces are moving, and a host of sweaty, overweight middle-aged white guys in short-sleeve dress shirts marches forth to hold our fair city siege. (You think I’m kidding, I was surrounded by a gaggle of ’em earlier this afternoon outside Artie’s Deli…they all had matching GOP 2004 name tags, along with their designated rank in the Noble and Benevolent Order of Somesuch, and they were all sizing up passers-by with sneers that suggested equal parts suspicion, fear, and disgust. Look, buds, the feeling’s mutual. People are strange when you’re a stranger, and y’all are most definitely strangers.)

Meanwhile, it already looks like a 5-Star Grand Theft Auto rampage down at the Garden, with cops everywhere, choppers overhead, and black SUVs with police lights zooming back and forth. 33rd St. is completely cordoned off, Herald Square has become Hardball central, and concrete cinder blocks have been placed at all corners of MSG. Not much of a protester presence at the venue yet, although some forces seem to be gathering around Union Square (where I picked up the button at right.) Oh, yes, it should be a hot time in old New York town next week.

Lying like a dog.

Oops. While he’s been carrying water for the Swifty liars on-the-air, Bob Dole let his real feelings about Dubya’s tactics be known to Wolf Blitzer sotto voce. Fortunately, the mics picked it up and the studio guys passed it on to Slate for public consumption. So much for being the Elder Statesman. Dole, you have no pride.

Crying like a fire in the sun.

R.E.M. talk Around the Sun and, in discussing their dwindling popularity Stateside, pay credit to Bob Dylan. Notes Peter Buck, “In 1975, people thought he was going to be president. Now he plays 3,000 seat theatres. His last two records are the best things he’s done in years. So I won’t calculate who our audience is. I’ll take whoever I can get at whatever level I can get them.'”

Empire Falls.

After two previous losses to Puerto Rico and Lithuania, the US Men’s Basketball team are knocked out of gold medal contention by Argentina (and Manu Ginobli.) I saw some of the earlier games, most notably the US-Germany scrimmage which A.I. won on a buzzer-beater 3, and the team definitely seemed confused. I don’t really see this as the death knell of American basketball it’s being made out to be, though. As many others (including Mark Cuban) have noted, the team was just poorly constructed…it needed less All-Stars and more NBA-level role players in the worst way.

Dubya’s America.

“The ranks of the poor and those without health insurance grew in 2003 for the third straight year, the government reported on Thursday.” What more needs to be said? In the immortal words of Ronald Reagan, are you better off today than you were four years ago?

Balloon Man / Captain Cambridge’s Mandolin.

In the movie bin this Friday, Rhys Ifans goes psycho (while Samantha Morton, surprisingly enough, plays normal) in the trailer for Enduring Love, while Stuart Townsend must decide among Charlize Theron, Penelope Cruz, and fighting Hitler in Head in the Clouds (Thomas Kretschmann had better watch out…or he’ll soon be typecast as the friendly Nazi.)

The Wages of Sin.

Kerry takes a sizable hit in the polls that extends to swing states, thanks largely to the Swift lies still being bandied about as news. Chris over at Do You Feel Loved ably summed up my thoughts on the controversy. I’m a cynical fellow relatively wise to “politics ain’t beanbag”-type shenanigans, but the sheer corruption of this whole GOP enterprise is somewhat staggering. What we have going on here is akin to the Kerry campaign funding a spate of backdoor ads declaring Dubya a serial wife-beater, and having the national news media ponder the charges despite all evidence to the contrary. Wait…is there evidence to the contrary? Did I mention I saw Dubya swing madly at Laura while he was on a three-day drunk in 1978? Well, yes, I was only four in 1978, but why should that matter? Dubya’s a wife-beater.

Grimm-Visaged War.

Argh. Terry’s Gilliam’s spate of studio trouble continues, with The Brothers Grimm getting pushed back a full year to November 2005. (Star Matt Damon suggests it may be due to FX.) It was already shaping up to be a particularly lousy fall film-wise, and this doesn’t help.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.

Play “Free Bird”! Actually, hold that, don’t. Apparently, Lynyrd Skynyrd will jam for the GOP, along with ZZ Top, the Charlie Daniels Band, 38 Special, and the Marshall Tucker Band. Not exactly a Murderer’s Row of musical talent, are they? I’d take the Vote for Change lineup over this crowd any day of the week and twice on Sunday.