Say It Ain't So, Nomar

I leave for one week (ONE WEEK) and everything goes to hell. Farewell, Nomar. Good luck in Chicago. I would wish for the Sox and Cubs to meet in the World Series some day, but that would be just too cruel, because someone would have to lose.

Is that a blog in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

Oh, and BTW: Have any of you blogger.com people noticed that lots of these blogs are actually just porn sites in disguise? Like porn guys are just using the space to publish erotic stories and links to their porn sites. Not that I mind, but, you know, I just thought you should be aware of it.

The rain in Maine falls Mainely Maine Maine

Starting Saturday, I will be spending a week in a house on a lake in Oxford County, Maine, which apparently is about 40 miles south of Augusta, with Kia and my family. Tomorrow, we fly to Boston, leaving behind our dog (read: only child) for 12 days. We drive up the next day. I'm very much looking forward to this: whitewater rafting, swimming, fishing, golf, all meals and expenses taken care of. This is the life.

So no posts for about a week. You'll just have to entertain yourselves, dammit. I do expect lots of comments, though. Feel free to use this site as a chatroom. I'll give you a topic...Dick Cheney is both a dick and a cheney. Discuss.

Turn the Page

In every city, there are certain places or streets or neighborhoods that, for one reason or another, you probably don't venture into too much, if at all. One such area in St. Louis is called Page Avenue. At its best, it's just sort of rundown and industrial looking, lots of warehouses and fast food places. However, this past weekend I got to experience the other side, if only briefly. Hilda, a friend Kia and I know from Oberlin, was visiting, and we wanted to get some booze. Being the complete dorkos that we are, we of course looked in a phone book for the closest liquor store, since I thought that the supermarket prices were a ripoff. (Seriously, who looks in a phone book for a liquor store? Honestly.)

Anyway, we locate one that seems reasonably close to our apartment, and we head off to Page Ave. Before reaching the one we were headed for, we found a different liquor store en route, which looked more like a cabin in the woods than anything else. We went in. Everything was behind glass, prices hard to see, sketchy people inside. We left.

We passed at least two other liquor stores before finding the one we actually set out to find. Another thing that happened before we found our intended store was that I ran a red light. Barely. I breezed through just as it was turning red. Fortunately, a police officer was right there to catch me and make sure I didn't hurt anyone. He pulled me over, took a look at my Maryland plates and my Massachusetts license and asked me "Where are you staying at?" I told him I lived here, he asked me where, and I told him. He asked if I went to college here, and instead of getting into a semantic argument about that with him, I just said, "Yes." Yes, I go to college here.

He proceeded to inform me that my reckless behavior could have hurt someone (that was expected). He also told me that what they usually do for people like me who have out-of-state driver's licenses is that they put them in jail (??!!?) until they can post bail. Um, what? I think I was too shocked and awed by what he had just said, and also I didn't want to make things worse, but in retrospect I'd really like an explanation for that. You're going to lock me up in jail, just for running a red light and not having a Missouri license? I'm not in Kansas anymore. Actually, they might do the same thing in Kansas. I have no idea.

Needless to say, this put a damper on the evening momentarily. This was alleviated by actually finding our destination: a bright yellow, sketchy-as-all-hell shack that supposedly sold liquor inside. We didn't even bother. We ended up going to the grocery store, a 2 minute drive from our apartment. I vowed never to venture into that neighborhood again.

[Here is the spot where I rant about social injustice and how wrong it is that so many liquor stores are located in the poorest areas of the city]

As a post-script, the officer who gave me the ticket told me I had to call to find out how much my ticket was for. I did this. The person who answered informed me that the clerk's office only accepted calls between 9 and 1. At this point, it was 3, and they were no longer accepting calls. But clearly someone picked up. So they were accepting calls. Could she not just tell me how much my ticket was for? No. But I could come by the courthouse and find out. Or call the next day between 9 and 1. I still haven't called.  

All good things must ultimately come to an end

First round of the playoffs. An anti-climactic 15-9 loss to a beatable team. I think there were high school kids on this team. That hurts. A good experience overall, but it would have been nice to win at least one playoff game.

Between the bars

Elliott Smith. I miss him and his music very much. A post-humous album of his is coming out in the fall.

Hank, Karl, weiners, and green cheese

[I saw this on another blog and thought I should pass it along]
 
Kissing Hank's Ass
 
This morning there was a knock at my door. When I answered the door I found a well groomed, nicely dressed couple. The man spoke first:
 
John: "Hi! I'm John, and this is Mary."
Mary: Hi! We're here to invite you to come kiss Hank's ass with us."
Me: "Pardon me?! What are you talking about? Who's Hank, and why would I want to kiss His ass?"
 
John: "If you kiss Hank's ass, He'll give you a million dollars; and if you don't, He'll kick the shit out of you."
Me: "What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?"
 
John: "Hank is a billionaire philanthropist. Hank built this town. Hank owns this town. He can do whatever He wants, and what He wants is to give you a million dollars, but He can't until you kiss His ass."
Me: "That doesn't make any sense. Why..."
 
Mary: "Who are you to question Hank's gift? Don't you want a million dollars? Isn't it worth a little kiss on the ass?"
Me: "Well maybe, if it's legit, but..."
John: "Then come kiss Hank's ass with us."
 
Me: "Do you kiss Hank's ass often?"
Mary: "Oh yes, all the time..."
Me: "And has He given you a million dollars?"
John: "Well no. You don't actually get the money until you leave town."
 
Me: "So why don't you just leave town now?"
Mary: "You can't leave until Hank tells you to, or you don't get the money, and He kicks the shit out of you."
 
Me: "Do you know anyone who kissed Hank's ass, left town, and got the million dollars?"
John: "My mother kissed Hank's ass for years. She left town last year, and I'm sure she got the money."
 
Me: "Haven't you talked to her since then?"
John: "Of course not, Hank doesn't allow it."
 
Me: "So what makes you think He'll actually give you the money if you've never talked to anyone who got the money?"
Mary: "Well, He gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you'll get a raise, maybe you'll win a small lotto, maybe you'll just find a twenty-dollar bill on the street."
 
Me: "What's that got to do with Hank?"
John: "Hank has certain 'connections.'"
 
Me: "I'm sorry, but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game."
John: "But it's a million dollars, can you really take the chance? And remember, if you don't kiss Hank's ass He'll kick the shit out of you."
 
Me: "Maybe if I could see Hank, talk to Him, get the details straight from Him..."
Mary: "No one sees Hank, no one talks to Hank."
Me: "Then how do you kiss His ass?"
 
John: "Sometimes we just blow Him a kiss, and think of His ass. Other times we kiss Karl's ass, and he passes it on."
Me: "Who's Karl?"
Mary: "A friend of ours. He's the one who taught us all about kissing Hank's ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times."
 
Me: "And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that Hank wanted you to kiss His ass, and that Hank would reward you?"
John: "Oh no! Karl has a letter he got from Hank years ago explaining the whole thing. Here's a copy; see for yourself."
 
From the desk of Karl:
1- Kiss Hank's ass and He'll give you a million dollars when you leave town.
2- Use alcohol in moderation.
3- Kick the shit out of people who aren't like you.
4- Eat right.
5- Hank dictated this list Himself.
6- The moon is made of green cheese.
7- Everything Hank says is right.
8- Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.
9- Don't use alcohol.
10- Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments.
11- Kiss Hank's ass or He'll kick the shit out of you.
 
Me: "This appears to be written on Karl's letterhead."
Mary: "Hank didn't have any paper."
Me: "I have a hunch that if we checked we'd find this is Karl's handwriting."
John: "Of course, Hank dictated it."
 
Me: "I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?"
Mary: "Not now, but years ago He would talk to some people."
Me: "I thought you said He was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist kicks the shit out of people just because they're different?"
 
Mary: "It's what Hank wants, and Hank's always right."
Me: "How do you figure that?"
Mary: "Item 7 says 'Everything Hank says is right.' That's good enough for me!"
 
Me: "Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up."
John: "No way! Item 5 says 'Hank dictated this list himself.' Besides, item 2 says 'Use alcohol in moderation,' Item 4 says 'Eat right,' and item 8 says 'Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.' Everyone knows those things are right, so the rest must be true, too."
 
Me: "But 9 says 'Don't use alcohol.' which doesn't quite go with item 2, and 6 says 'The moon is made of green cheese,' which is just plain wrong."
John: "There's no contradiction between 9 and 2, 9 just clarifies 2. As far as 6 goes, you've never been to the moon, so you can't say for sure."
 
Me: "Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of rock..."
Mary: "But they don't know if the rock came from the Earth, or from out of space, so it could just as easily be green cheese."
 
Me: "I'm not really an expert, but I think the theory that the Moon was somehow 'captured' by the Earth has been discounted*. Besides, not knowing where the rock came from doesn't make it cheese."
John: "Ha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know Hank is always right!"
 
Me: "We do?"
Mary: "Of course we do, Item 7 says so."
Me: "You're saying Hank's always right because the list says so, the list is right because Hank dictated it, and we know that Hank dictated it because the list says so. That's circular logic, no different than saying 'Hank's right because He says He's right.'"
 
John: "Now you're getting it! It's so rewarding to see someone come around to Hank's way of thinking."
Me: "But...oh, never mind. What's the deal with wieners?"
Mary: She blushes.
John: "Wieners, in buns, no condiments. It's Hank's way. Anything else is wrong."
 
Me: "What if I don't have a bun?"
John: "No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong."
Me: "No relish? No Mustard?"
 
Mary: She looks positively stricken.
John: (shouting) "There's no need for such language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!"
 
Me: "So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be out of the question?"
Mary: Sticks her fingers in her ears."I am not listening to this. La la la, la la, la la la."
John: "That's disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat that..."
 
Me: "It's good! I eat it all the time."
Mary: She faints.
John: He catches Mary. "Well, if I'd known you were one of those I wouldn't have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shit out of you I'll be there, counting my money and laughing. I'll kiss Hank's ass for you, you bunless cut-wienered kraut-eater."

I feel your pain

A friend of mine is driving across the country, from California to Massachusetts, to bring someone's minivan to them. That, to me, is really cool. I love roadtrips. I love the open road. She visited me here in St. Louis, about halfway to her destination, and said that she had been listening to a lot of Christian radio along the way. I guess with just a tape player and a radio that was about the only option through Oklahoma and Kansas and Missouri. She had also been listening to Bill Clinton's book on tape, which she lent to me. I'm hoping I get a chance to listen to it, because I'm definitely interested to hear it. Plus, he reads it himself, and I kind of miss hearing him speak. Sort of in the way you miss hearing your parents speaking in the other room, like everything is going to be ok. Everything was ok when he was President. Sure, America had problems. The world had problems. But with Bill, it was going to be alright. Maybe listening to his book will help me return to those more innocent times. I did wonder about the title though. "My Life"?? You couldn't come up with a better title to an autobiography than "My Life"?? Come on, Bill.
 
On another note, my friend's name is Cora Stryker, and another function of her cross-country trip is to distribute copies of her novel to independent bookstores in various cities. She's self-publishing and doing everything herself. That, to me, is amazing.  

Country grammar

I had the exquisite pleasure of attending my first country concert with Kia last weekend. Well, my first one ever. Not just with her. It was her second one. Truly a unique experience. I wish I had posted this sooner, so more of the details would be fresh in my mind. But alas, procrastination is a tough mistress. All in all, it was a good time. The main act was Tim McGraw. He's a good performer, but for some reason I thought he'd play the guitar at least once. He did elicit lots of passionate screams from the female portion of the audience for pretty much anything he did. And there were lots of women wearing cowboy hats. The funniest parts for me were when he'd announce that the next song was from his new album, and everyone who was standing would sit down. Then the next song would start and people would pop up again. Then a few songs later, everyone sits. It was like church. And he talked about God and the war too. Yeah, it was a lot like church. All things considered, I had a good time. There's something about live music that I really love. Even if I don't know most of the words to the songs or what a "ragtop" is.
 
The unpleasant part of the evening had nothing to do with the music or Tim McGraw or the 40-year-old women swooning two rows in front of us. The concert was at one of these outdoor pavilion places, where the seats are under a roof and there's also a lawn seating section. It used to have a nice name, but now it's owned by a bank and, therefore, is named after the bank. It's a trend I've noticed in lots of cities. Great Woods in Massachusetts is now called The Tweeter Center after an electronics store. Concert venues are getting named after beers and banks and cars. WTF? It takes some of the fun out of the whole experience to say, "Yeah, I'm seeing so-and-so at Microsoft Megaglobalcorp Toyota Stadium, brought to you in part by Red Bull." Not to mention sports arenas and stadiums. I won't even get into that. So that part got to me a little. When I saw Radiohead last August at the same place, Thom Yorke made some mention of it. Something like, "We're not playing here for them, we're playing here for you." Sometimes it's hard to distinguish the two.

Rocketman

The MLB All Star Game is tomorrow. Tons of great stars, tons of great stories, and the press chooses to harp on only one. Is anyone else sick as hell of hearing about the big drama of Roger Clemens pitching to Mike Piazza?

A cappella in Acapulco

Listening today to "Deadweight" by Beck (a good song by a great musician), I realized that this was one of those songs that I came to know, appreciate, and enjoy in a different way than most people. This was a song that I heard first, not in its original form, but as an a cappella song. To be exact, performed by a group from U of Buffalo called, appropriately, the Buffalo Chips. (There is an unspoken rule in a cappella that the name of your group must be some play on your school name, a musical term, or both.) Anyway, I first heard "Deadweight" when the Buffalo Chips came to perform at Oberlin a few years ago.

The disturbing thing is that this is not the only song that I came to listen to via the a cappella route. I can think of a few others off the top of my head -- "Redemption Song" by Bob Marley; "Bouncing Around the Room" by Phish; "Running to Stand Still" by U2; "Babylon" by David Gray; "Don't You Forget About Me" from The Breakfast Club...the list goes on. All I can say is that you listen to a song differently after you've heard it done a cappella first. You can hear how the elements are put together in a way I don't think is possible before. Yes, at times it's still a ridiculous musical form. It can be over the top and can sometimes ruin the music it's trying to emulate. It might not be as cool as being on the lacrosse team or being some college radio snob. But I will say this: the chicks dig it. Being in a cappella groups has supplied me with three girlfriends, as well as making other girls think you're a sensitive, new age guy by baring your soul up on stage while making awful beatbox noises with your mouth. Try getting a girlfriend by playing lacrosse, punk.

My final thought: The only other phenomenenon like the one I just described with a cappella that I can think of is The Simpsons. Many times I have heard a reference or person or place or idea described on The Simpsons before I have come across said entity in real life. But rarely will one ever acquire a girlfriend watching The Simpsons. Well, maybe Neil could pull it off.

Understatement of the year

"In the end, what the president and the Congress used to send the country to war was information provided by the intelligence community, and that information was flawed."

SENATOR PAT ROBERTS, Republican of Kansas.

The triumphant return of Family Guy

This is good. This is very, very good. Someday if I'm lucky, I hope to have a martini-drinking dog and a baby with a British accent who concocts diabolical schemes to take over the world.

No beer and no TV make Aaron......something something.

Another brutal bitch-ass storm hit St. Louis Monday night, conveniently right as my utlimate team was getting off the field after a 15-13 win. We fled in the face of the clouds that were about to consume us. One guy mentioned the idea of building an ark. That wouldn't have been a bad idea.

On my ride home, the sky to my left was totally dark: death and destruction. The sky to my right was just the opposite: bright and orange, except in a sort of eerie, creepy way, like it was the apocalypse or something. Luckily, I got home before bad stuff started to happen. The next day, all kinds of trees were down in my neighborhood. Very lucky, too, that none of them hit our apartment or cars, although a tree hitting my car would most likely represent an improvement.

But the major upshot of all of this: cable is out. No internet. No TV. Actually, that's not true. We do get one channel. So this morning, I treated myself to about 5 minutes of Montel. His guest was a woman who claimed to be clairvoyant or have contact with the dead or something. An audience member said that she was separated from her husband and asked if they were going to get divorced. The woman said yes. Brilliant.

So this is me with no TV. Luckily, I did have beer. Good beer. It's called Schlafly (pronounced "Shlaa-fleee"). It's brewed in St. Louis. It makes me feel like a real local. And it makes me feel like I'm sticking it to "The Man" (Budweiser) by not drinking their beer, even though they're also locally brewed. Based solely on taste, Schlafly kicks some serious Budweiser ass. It takes those Bud frogs, and a few of the Clydesdales, and mixes them up into a shake that it drinks before a workout. If you get the chance, I recommend you try one.

Ahhhh.....memories

(the following is an actual section of the online newsletter for the World Adult Kickball Association, Bethesda, MD, league)


GREAT MOMENTS IN KICKBALL HISTORY

by George Convery

July 23rd, 2003

With his team just ½ a game below .500, the playoffs only 2 weeks away, and facing a tough division rival in Gluckzilla and the Fleeing Villagers, Aaron Bonner-Jackson of Baby Got Backspin was out there putting it all on the line. Leaving second base, Bonner-Jackson stumbled on the slick grass. The pitcher, Mike Blum, corralled the ball kicked right back to the mound and stood a mere 10 feet away the runner. Blum quickly closed the gap and looked for the peg, which is when ABJ saw his chance. Using his plastic man-like abilities he managed to maneuver his body around the hurled sphere causing it to sail into the outfield. Bonner-Jackson then scooted around 3rd and headed home as BGB went onto route the higher ranked Fleeing Villagers. On the ground one second, thanks to some amazing agility, standing on home plate the next. Aaron Bonner-Jackson thank you for another Great Moment in Kickball.

Ouch

Ok, this will serve as Red Sox Rant #2. Let the record show that Red Sox Rant #1 was a rather positive affair, a pleasant outlook with sunny skies and light winds out of the southeast, high temperatures of 76 degrees. Well, let me tell you: the winds have shifted since my last forecast. The sunny skies have turned into a strange mix of rain, hail, and blood (yes, all at once). The light winds have turned into a wicked pissah nor'easter (that's a really really strong storm for the rest of you). In April, the Sox swept the Yankees in Yankee Stadium (aka "The Death Star"). They were leading the AL East. Oh what a difference a couple of months makes. Time heals all wounds and destroys all hopes for the Good Guys. It seems like just yesterday that everyone was looking ahead to the playoffs. Now, the Boston media is saying the Sox should just shoot for the wildcard. What does that even mean??? Play well, but not too well. Just well enough to come in second to the Yankees. Again.

That, I must say, is the infuriating thing about the sports scene in Boston, it's just so reactionary and quick to judge. They love you one minute and hate you the next. How long ago did all of Boston rejoice at Nomar's return? And already they're calling for a trade. Why? Because he's not perfect yet. Because maybe he didn't come back at 100% and he's working out the kinks, the way most players do in spring training. Except this isn't the Grapefruit League, this is the real deal now, and the smallest foul up gets magnified and analyzed and people start calling for your head. They turn on you. I wouldn't blame Nomar if he wanted to get out of Boston ASAP, just to be able to get out from under the microscope. That sort of thing can really get to you. That's why David Wells left the Yankees, a perennial World Series contender, for the San Diego Padres, who are.....the San Diego Padres. He's 3-5 with a 3.25 ERA, and I'm sure he couldn't be happier.

I'd like to not over-react to a sweep at the hands of the Yankees at this point in the season, but it's pretty hard. I keep thinking the Sox have a huge run in them, that they'll go on a big tear and rip it up. I know they can do it, they've done it before. When their offense is clicking, they're unstoppable. Their pitching has all the ingredients. The next month will be crucial.