Tony, Tony, Tony

Tony, we loved you when you were on your game. Some of your columns were classics to be read and reread by the journalism students in the hallowed halls of Creighton and NYU. I know you remember, Tony: La Sooze, Le Curse de les Boulez, the Bandwagon. All classics.

But, you have fallen hard. The only way you can get a laugh now is to denigrate one of the great cities of the South. Jacksonville. Florida’s First City. I know you are too old to travel to this great city, so let me mention a few of the attractions that you’ll miss: the natural beauty of the dunes at American Beach, the sandy shores of Amelia Island, the meandering St. John’s River; the memorial red brick walls of the Civil War era Fort Clinch; the political arena which begot the irascible Corrine Brown’s gerrymandered district, the epitome of the democratic process in abeyance.

Tony, Tony, Tony. When you’re sitting down in your easy chair to watch the Super Bowl this year, first check the weather channel for the temperatures in the D.C. and Jacksonville areas. I guarantee you that the D.C. temperature will mandate a parka if one wishes to venture outside while Jacksonville will have sweater weather. Isn’t Little Danny lobbying for the Super Bowl to come to the D.C. area someday? He’ll eventually whine and pout enough to get his way. When that happens, we all better start praying for that global warming trend to be in full force by then. Or maybe we can go the NASCAR way and have the big game at the start of the season. We can pit the Redskins against the Niners on July fourth. Danny can pay for it.

Tony, Tony, Tony. That comment about double wides. That was low. Effete. You know that you can’t get a good trailer for less than ninety seven thousand in Florida. I’m talking double wide, of course. People down here have to work double shifts at BK to afford their double wides. So, don’t look down on the common man. They might not know much, but they know football. They know that the stretch play allows the running back to creatively maneuver down the field. They know that five receiver sets spread out the defense. They know that Brunell’s arm is as aged as Joe Gibbs’ play calling.

Tony, Tony, Tony. You think you live in the intellectual center of the world. The center of power. You don’t think your city smells, huh? Let me tell you, Tony. The stink that rises out of D.C. permeates the very fiber of every city of the country. The District of Columbia. The town that celebrated the venerable Lincoln, Washington and Jefferson now embraces Clinton, Barry and Pelosi. The town that worshipped Howard, Kilmer, and Joey T. now kneels down to Abu, Arenas, and Arrington. All you have now is alliteration.

Good bye, Tony.