It's the Blues Snooze Revue...

...Comin' right at you!

I've just dated myself considerably with that reference to an awful early 1970's U.S. kids' program. It wasn't quite as soporific as "Barney" but would certainly run it pretty darn close. You had poor actors dressed up as a big frog, hippo and owl singing about friendship, manners and nice stuff. It did as advertized on the label (so who am I to complain) but boy, give me the anarchy of Looney Tunes any day.

Honestly though, as bad as that show was, how preferable that would've been to watch this past Saturday if you are an Everton fan.

Another terrific display from our Redmen was matched by a pretty shocking one from the blue half of Merseyside. If you can count on these games for nothing else, you can be certain both players and fans will be passionately up for it. Well, Moyes & Co. obviously seemed to forget what it's all about this time around - and when he leaves the pitch with his hair still redder than his face, something's clearly wrong.

With so very little fire in the belly (though a fair amount of the usual nonsense being sung in the stands), it was almost a feeling of "thank goodness" when little Timmy Cahill was shown his red card as you might have otherwise forgotten that this was a derby. The look on the Blues' faces after Torres scored his second (much less his third, but we'll not go there) said it all: you'd expect to see mouths open in anger, frustration or even shock - all you saw were pursed lips; barely a visible reaction anywhere.

Oh, except from those headed towards the exit after 62 minutes.

You can't feel too sorry about the club being trapped in a bed of its own making, but Moyes - up until recently at least - had his players fighting and scrapping for every little bit they could get. The old "Dogs of War" are looking like anything but right now. And you sort of feel that if they willingly cede that trait of theirs, they've really got nothing else.

Anyway it's a(nother) great win for us to be celebrated and gloated over as long as possible - the DVR getting as much of a workout from watching Torres' goals as Babel's recently against the Mancs. So while you've got such fine entertainment to relax to, think about the poor Blues who only wish they could dig anything comparable.

Old Barney episodes actually might not be a bad idea - if I were an Evertonian, I'd take watching a big purple dinosaur over a bunch of blue sheep and diving loons any day.

BOSSmag! And other 'zines...

Not to single any one particular publication out as it's not fair because I love them all - I'm a longtime subscriber to Red All Over The Land as well - but the folks at BOSS have done such a great job, I'm going to give them their due.

What I really dig is their "bantamweight" approach, i.e., small and lean vs the traditional 8-1/2 by 11" 'zine, which can sometimes feel a bit padded out. It's also earned major style points in my book for the great photography (courtesy of John Johnson - check out his great photos from the big SOS march before the Man U game) and its distinctive overall design. Did I mention it's a terrific read as well? Well, I have now!

'Zines in general are suffering as most people prefer to peruse websites, tv or even "high-end" glossy rags - sorry, mags - like FourFourTwo. A few 'zines have disappeared altogether - as hard as it is to find people to buy them, it's near impossible to find people to supply fresh content for them. Anyone who can write halfway decently about the Reds is either already churning out articles for these publications or blogging away in the hopes of establishing Internet fame (cough). There's also the chronic problem that everyone seems to think they're entitled to something for nothing, so getting people to reach into their pockets in the first place is a trick.

So my personal appeal - I know it costs a bit of money to have them shipped over to the U.S. but honestly, you know you'd spend that money anyway. And rather than run up your electric bill staying glued to Setanta or FSC for news, or surfing the web incessantly going to sites that tend to spout the same tired (usually anti-Liverpool) sh*te, why not put some money in the hands of the boys and girls who've soldiered on in time-consuming, barely break-even efforts all in the name of love for the club.

They're by us, for us. So won't you give them a hand?

There's no "I" in "team"...

Football is one of the most selfless sports out there. Sure you've got a role to fill and are expected to be able to fill it exceptionally well. Sure you've got an ego as you want to be out there, you want people to know how good you are.

But as we've seen this week between our two fixtures - most notably in the game against the Mancs last weekend - 11 men, none of them what you'd consider world beaters (bar Carra at his peak), all working together as a cohesive unit, are virtually unstoppable. Everyone did his part, we dispelled the myth of the "two-man team" and frankly, should've run up a bigger scoreline.

So why is it that - in a week that should've been dominated by stories praising this win for embodying the very qualities that most of us love about this game - did we instead get press headlines focusing on a loathsome millionaire crying about having to sell his club (at an asking price of twice what he paid 2 years ago mind) as the fans don't like him?

Or which of the two "top-class" defenders sent off for pretty obvious transgressions while representing his respective classless club, committed the more egregious foul?

And lastly, on the home front here in NYC, why did someone (I'll just call Mr. X) threaten to call the police because someone told him he was talking complete nonsense on an LFC forum??

Give me a break.

I just don't get it. How ridiculously ironic that a sport that draws devoted followers for its selfless commitment attracts some of the most selfish, self-absorbed f*****rs on the planet?

Too busy celebrating...

What a weekend - I'll be back with you good people shortly....

The ugly Americans...

And no, I'm not actually talking about these two jokers...

And I am not talking about the legion of knowledgeable fellow American Reds out there - c'mon, you should know better...I wouldn't do that.

I am, however, talking about a number of newish Reds from these parts, for whom "listening and learning" seem to have the same impact it would on a six-year-old who's just downed a bag of sugar.

There's a very selfish, impatient kind of support that seems to have popped up recently. For some newer folks, they've inverted - scratch that, perverted - the relationship they should have with the club. Instead of being grateful to have found Liverpool, it's now how honored LFC (and by extension, our supporters' club here in NYC) should feel that I found it and expecting a flipping red carpet to be rolled out. And feeling how the club should do more for me because I could spend my money on tons of other things. And worst of all, it's all about what I care to bring to the table and not really giving a damn about listening or wanting to learn from other supporters.

Well, I've really had enough and needs to be nipped in the bud at all costs. It's ruining traditions; it's ruining the level of discussion; it's ruining our support. I've always likened being a Red to being a guest with an open invite to a huge party. Just because you're made welcome doesn't mean you have the right to immediately lunge for all the crab legs on the buffet table.

Show some respect. And fucking stop it already!

Welcome to La Machine...

Got to be one of the coolest things ever!

Thousands turned over the course of the weekend to see "La Princesse" - a giant mechanical spider - make its way around Liverpool this past weekend as part of the ongoing European Capital of Culture celebrations.

It's great to see something that usually causes fright turned into something that brings joy and fascination. And the sheer size of her (evident in the picture above) made it as much a technological marvel as an artistic one.

Some of the commissions the CoC folks have presented this year have been nothing short of amazing. From one here in the so-called "world's capital", we should be embarassed. "The Falls"? Get outta here - what about:

** An 8-foot clockwork cockroach to run a obstacle course in Central Park made up of oversize Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts styrofoam coffee cups

** A huge robo-rat in the subway! From a distance, it looks just like your arriving train until it bursts into the station, fangs bared and giant claws scraping the length of the platform until screeching to a halt. (Whoa!!)

** Or the piece-de-resistance: a 30-foot-tall towering replicant of an NYU student on a Saturday night East Village pub crawl, wobbling through the streets on one shoe until finally passing out head first in the gutter at the southwest corner of St. Marks' and Avenue A.

Come on, Bloomberg! You're the art patron - get on it!

Be sure to check out La Machine's website for more photos from the event.

You will, you won't - you do, you don't...

Those words are a song by the fabulous Liverpool band, The Zutons, the title of which is ... hmm ... well, I bet you can guess. A couple of friends and I were singing it while bopping down Avenue A last weekend on our way to a party. The experiences of being teased - and teasing yourself with fantasies of what could be - are certainly familiar enough to pretty much everyone; that's part of what makes it a terrific song.

Well, by gum if those words aren't also the mantra intoned by Liverpool supporters for the last year in our ongoing romance with the potential saviors from Dubai. It's all kicked off again with fresh speculation that the club's about to be bought by the Sheikh, precipitated in part by the rumour mills on various fora and Amanda Staveley's interview (in the context of the Man City takeover) on FiveLive yesterday. When asked point-blank whether DIC/Dubai Holdings are still interested in purchasing LFC, there were no denials. That "for the right price", they are still interested. And like a starving man thrown the tiniest of crumbs, we are rapturous for one beautiful second.

Because this time, after so many false dawns, rumblings are that things may be coming to a head. Loans due come January that the banks - in their own pinch - will want repaid. Our fabulous new 60,000-seater stadium put on a ginormous Coleman cooler-full of ice, which makes pretty much everything else untenable. That, because they need to save their own skins, Hicks' and Gillett's greed will finally get knocked down to size and they'll be forced to sell up at a price more in line with what the club is actually worth (while they still make off with a disgusting £40-100mm a man in profit, depending on what you read).

Well, we've been here before, haven't we? What will it take to finally consummate this affair as we can't take it much longer? Knickers have been dropped to the floor....don't embarass us by making us openly beg even more than we already have - we've really suffered enough humiliation.