George Allen dumbness confirmed, limits of dumbness seemingly bottomless

So, I was feeling kind of bad about calling Senator George Allen an idiot. In hindsight, I started thinking that maybe it was a little too disrespectful, maybe a little too coarse, to talk about a sitting U.S. senator like that, no matter the regard I held him in.
Then I saw this totally awesome video of repeatedly calling an Indian kid "Macaca."
Now, let there be no doubt. Dude is a freaking idiot.
How else to explain the senator looking a camera in the eye and repeatedly calling this (Fairfax born) 20 year old UVa student named Sidarth "Macaca" and welcoming him to America, all to the delight of the rednecks he'd assembled in deep, deep Southwest Virginia.
The video is widely available on the internets, you should look it up.
While this incident highlights G. Felix Allen's well-documented disdain for anyone even slightly ethnic, it offends me on a much more personal level.
As my Indian friends can attest, I've been calling them "Macaca" for years, always to hilarious effect. George Allen stole my bit.

Jim Webb is Pete Gillen is better than George Allen

Here in Virginia, we have a tough decision to make come November. In the race for the U.S. Senate, the voters of the commonwealth are charged with choosing between George Allen, a real dipshit-do nothing-confederate flag lovin'-insufferable faux-cowboy idiot jerk, and Jim Webb, a moderate Democrat who happens to be an esteemed author and Vietnam War hero. Yessir, a real tossup.
After much back and forth between the cats and I, we're throwing our support behind Mr. Webb. Not only is he the superior candidate, but damned if he isn't the spitting image of Pete Gillen, the late great men's basketball coach at my Alma Mater.

Amira Cabernet Cabernet Franc 2004

This is a sweet little South African cab franc, retails for about $11. As my boy Tom at Market Street Wine Shop has pointed out, it should make Virginia vintners ashamed of themselves.
For real, there's no cab franc in Virginia approaching this depth of flavor, and those that come close want $20 to $30 a bottle.
South Africa! Winner!

Bang = Not Cool

Ms. Jamboree and I ventured into C-ville last night to stroll the downtown mall and have a drink somewheres. Having never spent more than 10 minutes in Bang!, the asianish-tapas-martini-bar just off the mall, I suggested we go there to whet the ol' whistles.
What was striking, upon arriving, is how no longer hot this once hot spot is. I recall trying to eat here on numerous occasions in the past, only to find the crowds too daunting. But on last saturday night, the place was maybe half-full at 8:00 p.m. on a saturday, and the patrons were almost eclusively family-types. Not a hipster in sight.
Indeed, Bang! seems to have lost whatever cultural cache it once had, and I suspect the Charlottesville scenesters have decided that Bang! is out, and are now sipping their $9 cocktails at The X-lounge, or maybe still Zocalo. That's probably for the best. The girly $9 martinis at Bang! do kind of suck.

On The Crappiness of Scottsville, VA

Oh, how I want to like Scottsville, Virginia.
Many enjoyable evenings have I spent in the small town 20 minutes south of Charlottesville; having dinner, fishing in the mighty James River, or strolling down its quaint main street. There's no denying the ugly fact though; as much as I hate to say it, I must.
Scottsville totally sucks.
Indeed, it's not so much that Scottsville sucks as a stand-alone small Virginia town, because as one of those it could certainly do much worse (I'm looking at you Stanardsville...). The tragedy of Scottsville is what is once was, compared to what it is now.
There was a time, not too long ago, when Scottsville was in the midst of what people generally referred to as "the renaissance". The little sidewalks were bustling with tourists and locals and at least three interesting restaurants competed for your dollar. An energetic Yankee mayor was eager to make all that he could out of the town.
Indeed, I'll never forget the cover story in the C-ville Weekly (the crappier of our two crappy weeklies in this area) all about how Charlottesvillians were increasingly forsaking Cville for the quietude and amenities available in delightful ol' Scottsville.
How ridiculous such sentiments look now.
While Charlottesville has continued to blossom, Scottsville has withered; "Magnolia", the last good restaurant, closed in early 2006. Today's diner can choose between the Luv n' Oven (actual motto: "When a Better Chicken is Hatched, We'll Cook it!"), the Dew Drop Inn or a mediocre barbecue joint. None are very good.
This Saturday, Ms. Jamboree and I motored to Scottsville to pick up some dish soap at the IGA (it's like a food lion, but not as classy). An impromptu junk sale was in full force in the Village Shopping Center parking lot.
Sketchy carnival-barker type characters hawked everything from Nascar-themed lamps to marijuana-smoking devices to bootleg videos.
We left before we could get the dish soap, as the scene was too weird. I can't see going back anytime soon, even though we live five minutes from town limits.
Man, Scottsille totally sucks.