I've Got a Bad Feeling About This II

Apparently Keanu Reeves is set to star in a movie adaption of Philip K. Dick's A Scanner Darkly. Delightful. Afterall, I just loooooved him in the adaptation of William Gibson's Johnny Mnemonic. I should probably just be thankful I don't have to anticipate seeing Reeves in The Man in the High Castle or Count Zero, to of my favorites by the above authors.

And from a galaxy all too near, Movie Criticism for the Retarded does a thorough dismembering of the upcoming release of the 'original' Star Wars trilogy. Here's their take on the Han Solo-Greedo Controversy:
Lucas says that the new version better represents his "vision of the scene". If that's the case, then I'm wondering if Lucas also originally indicated for Darth Vader to have a puppy. Would have been about the same for dismantling the coolness of a character.

It's So Easy

Last week I stopped by the local Newbury Comics to pick up some CDs I was hoping to find used.* I was walking past the 'new arrivals' rack when I spotted this staring up at me - Guns N' Roses Greatest Hits.

Reaction #1 (as I reach for the CD): Guns N' Roses Greatest Hits!? Man, my youth is seriously disappearing in the rearview mirror.

Reaction #2 (as I scan the list of tracks): this disc sucks. Anyone looking here for the greatness of GnR is going to be sorely disappointed. Why wouldn't you just buy Appetite for Destruction and Lies and be done with it?

* I did find the used CDs I wanted. I especially recommend Richard Thompson's Mock Tudor. Damn fine disc.

Sporadic Question of the Day

I found this question - Five Songs You Can't Live Without - over at A Small Victory and naturally couldn't resist. On the other hand, it's pretty difficult to answer. I could do this everyday for a week and come up with different answers each time. So I'd figured I'd just go with gut instinct here. So here are my five songs (in no particular order)...

1. Bastards of Young - The Replacements
Shocking isn't it, a Replacements' song on a list by moi? The difficulty was in choosing which Replacements' song. But I've always liked the cynical lyrics to this one.
The ones who love us best, are the ones we'll lay to rest,
and visit their graves on holidays at best .
The ones who love us least, are the ones we'll die to please.
If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them

2. I Still Miss Someone - Johnny Cash
Another shocking entry. No one sings lonely like Mr. Cash - I guess it takes a tough man to make a tender song... . My favorite version of this song comes from Cash's Live At Folsom Prison album.
At my door the leaves are falling,
a cold wild wind has come.
Sweethearts walk by together,
but I still miss someone.

3.Divorce Song - Liz Phair
No, I don't have her new album, and don't intend to buy it. More power to her if she's making some major dough from it, but what I've heard of it doesn't appeal to me at all. This one is more to my liking.
That it's harder to be friends than lovers,
and you shouldn't try to mix the two.
'Cause if you do it and you're still unhappy,
then you know that the problem is you.

4. Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment - The Ramones
I'd be hard pressed to think of a better driving song than this.
I was feeling sick,
I was loosing my mind.
I heard about these treatments
from a good friend of mine.
He was always happy,
smile on his face.
He said he had a great time at the place.

5. Throw Your Arms Around Me - Hunters and Collectors
I suppose if I had to choose a 'mushy' song, this would be it. But mostly it's just a very cool tune.
I will come for you at nighttime,
I will raise you from your sleep.
I will kiss you in four places,
as I go running along your street.

UPDATE
Red weighs in with her 5 songs.

Spread the meme people.

Surf City

Well it's only Tuesday and already the world has lost the talents of Sir Peter Ustinov, Alistair Cook, and Jan Berry.

Jan Berry?

Yes, Jan Berry, of Jan & Dean, a pioneer (along with the Brian Wilson) of the California surf music sound. Now admittedly I'm not a big fan of this type of music. Good Vibrations gives me hives. But certain 'surf rock' songs are just so much damn fun that when they pop on the radio you can't help but smile, tap your feet, and sing along. And if you're driving, hit the accelerator. Little Duece Coupe is one of these songs. Jan & Deans' Surf City is another one. In fact, Surf City is such a dead cool song the Ramones covered it - a pretty solid rock n' roll credential in my book.

Anyway here's the man himself on how he wanted to be remembered.

100 Movies That Deserve More Love

Today I came across this list of 100 Movies That Deserve More Love. In the author's words...

"...we've rolled up our sleeves to retrieve some unloved and under-appreciated gems from the dustbin of history. Within this countdown you'll find hated blockbusters and underseen cult classics, you'll find A-list megastars, and unsung C-list heroes."

Some of my own recommendations from the list:

9. Brotherhood of the Wolf
Sure, the writers started with a great idea and trailed off into silliness. And yeah, last time I checked Iroquois warriors did not practice kung fu. But it's way cool to see a guy in a tri-corner hat and greatcoat busting out some serious moves. And Monica Belluci is a hottie.

36. State of Grace
One of my favorite gangster flicks, this movie has a truly solid cast - Sean Penn, Gary Oldman and Ed Harris. And it has bagpipes too. Bagpipes rock. I like this one so much I own it on DVD.

39. Ronin
Something about Jean Reno puts me in mind of such old school actors as Bogie; I think it's the combination of an aloof coolness, mixed with style, overlaying a warmth of personality. (Take that Tom Cruise you soulless android!) Robert DeNiro is...well Robert DeNiro, one of the best ever and Sean Bean plays an a-typical role for him. All action movies should be this intelligent.

46. King of New York
This just may be my favorite Christopher Walken film (and that's going some.) The supporting cast - Snopes, Fishburne, Buscemi, Caruso - are damn good too. Outside of The Godfather I can't think of a better gangster film set in NYC.

59. Rounders
Not enough films feature their main character choosing to play poker over keeping their girlfriends.
It's kind of hard to add to that description. Another rock-solid cast - Malkovich, Damon, Norton.

Seeing a pattern here? On the whole, I'm less interested in seeing the latest Oscar-bound sensation-of the-year film (still haven't seen Titanic and I'll probably duck that new Jim Carey thing) than I am in watching a flick with a)an engrossing storyline and b)a cast of actors using their craft, not doing star turns, to tell said story.

So, onward.

64. Hollywood Shuffle
If you claim to like funny, witty movies and haven't seen this, then shame on you. I give you 'the finger.' It's a goddam crime that Eddie Murphy continues to inflict movies on the public while Robert Townsend seems to have vanished. Go watch this film. Now.

71. Jackie Brown
Tarantino's 'forgotten' film, and in my opinion second only to Reservoir Dogs. I thkn a lot of people were turned off by the fact that this movie was nothing like any of Tarantino's other flicks (Pulp Fiction) or screenplays (True Romance). Give it another look.

72. Super Troopers
The first scene alone will have you crying with laughter. If it doesn't, you must be totally devoid of a sense of humor. I own this film for the express purpose of cheering myself up after a bad day - simply by watching that first scene. Seriously.

78. Point Break
Yes, I dislike Keanu Reeves in just about everything he's done.
Yes, I don't think Zen surfers who rob banks would be that hard to catch.
Yes, the sky diving scenes beggar belief.

But it's fun. A lot of fun. And I will go on record saying that Patrick Swayze has not gotten the credit he deserves. Talent? Maybe not so much - but he shows up in movies that are consistently enjoyabe - fun even through repeated viewings. That goes a long way in my book. I want to be entertained by a film, and I'll take, say, Road House over arty piffle like American Beauty any day.

95. The Prophecy
Second on my list of favorite Christopher Walken movies. This film belongs to that sub-genre of of movies I think of as 'Catholic horror films' that dates back to The Exorcist. There's a war in heaven folks; angels are fighting it and they're not Roma Downey style angels. Viggo Mortensen pops up as a damn sinister Lucifer; Eric Stoltz as one of the 'good angels.'

That's it. You have your homework.

What I'm Wishing For At This Moment in Time

A presidential candidate I could vote for without huge reservations.

That all my friends were happy and at peace.

For an Ipod and new PC. (Because you need Windows 2000 for Ipod, see? So now I need a new PC as well).

A date that is a success. And by success I don't mean 'Boy, won't my friends be alternately amused and horrified when I relate these events to them.'

That the Bitch Goddess (of Women, Whiskey and Gambling) smiles on me during Sunday's game.

But mostly I'm wishing I had not heard Nelly's Air Force One on the radio this morning, before I'd finished my coffee. Because now the damn song is stuck in my head. And since I don't know the words what I keep hearing sounds like:

"blah bla-bla blah Air Force One! (Bomp Bomp)....repeat ad nauseum.

God and baby Jesus, make it stop.

These Are The People In Your Neighborhood

Or in your local, as the case may be. Using my favorite rule of three I present to you:

The Good
The attractive older Irish woman, with the razor sharp wit and killer instinct. Who graced me with a couple of hours of delightful conversation, including many laughs at the expense of the guy hitting on her in an extraordinary fashion. (I was serious about the killer instinct; she ripped this guy to shreds and he kept coming back for more. Hilarious.) Who then told me I have 'absolutely beautiful eyes.' She rocks.

The Bad
The dart hooligans. Who made the front of the local almost untenable with their continued shrieking and gibbering.

The Ugly
The really smelly and drunk guy. Who was so drunk he couldn't operate the jukebox, and therefore asked for assistance. Who after assistance was rendered, insisted on not only shaking my hand, but taking my hand and pressing it against his cheek.

That was just weird.

Once Upon A Time in the Balkans...

...there was a very bored and creative soldier who managed to compile an astounding list of 213 Things Skippy is No Longer Allowed to do in the U.S. Army. Some personal favorites:

7. Not allowed to add 'In accordance with the prophesy' to the end of answers I give to a question an officer asks me.

65. There are no evil clowns living under my bed.

87. If the thought of something makes me giggle for longer than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I am not allowed to do it.

118. Burn pits for classified material are not revel fires - therefore it is wrong to dance naked around them.

175. We do not 'charge into battle, naked, like the Celts'.

202. Despite the confusing similarity in the names, the "Safety Dance" and the "Safety Briefing" are never to be combined.

If Six Was Nine

At the beginning of the year I briefly mentioned the 50 Book Challenge - to read and write about 50 books in 2004. Well, as far the actual reading part goes, I'm half-way there. Here's the list so far:

1. Okinawan Karate - Mark Bishop
2. An Army at Dawn - Rick Atkinson
3. Kingdom of Fear Hunter S. Thompson
4. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay - Michael Chabon
5. With the Old Breed - E.B. Sledge
6. Montcalm and Wolfe - Francis Parkman
7. The Boy's Crusade - Paul Fussell
8. Havana - Stephen Hunter
9. The Pepper-Dogs - Bing West
10. Fighter Boys: The Battle of Britain, 1940 - Patrick Bishop
11. Red Gold - Alan Furst
12. Night Soldier Alan Furst
13. Wartime: Understanding and Behavior in the Second World War - Paul Fussell
14. The Big Blowdown - George Pelecanos
15. The Fall of Berlin - Anthony Beevor
16. The Winter Soldiers - Gary Douglas Kilworth
17. Fearless Jones - Walter Mosley
18. Dark Star - Alan Furst
19. The Polish Officer - Alan Furst
20. Kingdom of Shadows - Alan Furst
21. Blood of Victory - Alan Furst
22. Castles of Steel - Robert K. Massie
23. Beyond Valor - Patrick K. O'Donnell
24. The Duel - John Lukacs
25. Cut Time: An Education at the Fights - Carlo Rotella
26. The Biggest Game in Town - A. Alvarez

As I guessed, the problem hasn't been the reading of 50 books, it's taking the time to write about them. Obviously I've barely started on that end and have some catching up to do.

Shameless Plug

My good friend GC has combined his love of cooking and baking and his desire to own his own business into one: the Brooklyn Cheesecake Company.

That's Brooklyn as in NYC folks. If you live in the area and need some dessert, give it a try. Tell 'em Grover sent you.

And then let me know how the cake was.

Take Another Piece of My Heart

One of my first ever posts here concerned the resurrection of the Avenue Victor Hugo bookstore.

Sadly, the relocation was not enough to save the store, and the doors will be shut again, permanently.

Chris ain't too happy about this either.

This blows. As recently as a few weeks ago, a very stressed Dan sought refuse among the Hugo's towering stacks and thousands of books. It's a damn shame to see another bit of Boston vanish.

St. Patrick's Day Redux

In brief: mistakes were made.

Over the course of a long day I went from my referring to 'iambic pentameter...my ancient enemy' to attempting to order a 'a large hot chocolate...with extra mushrooms.'

Mushrooms...marshmellows...all the same in the end. Right?

I also offered Heather some assistance on the Red Line. ('You mean ionic breeze theory is all a big lie!?)

We started at the local at about noon. Ventured into town at about two or so and made our first stop at the Littlest. We passed up the Burren - 'Cover charges!? We don't need no steenkin' cover charges!' - and hit Redbones for lunch. Following this stop we hit the Sligo and the Field, before seeking the safety of the familar and returning to the local.

It was at this juncture the Dunkin Donuts incident occurred.

Shortly thereafter I danced.

The horror, the horror... like a pub crawl on a razor blade...or a shot of Jameson's whiskey.

A Slice of Randandom

I stole this from someone else having trouble coming with original content. It's an interesting exerciser in free association, and should at least it'll keep you tided over until Friday, o my loyal half dozen.

Emily filled out the list as well.

Bill McCabe and Big Stupid Tommy join in as well.

FIRSTS
First Job:concessions stand, Raynham-Taunton dog track.
First Screen Name:: Dan
First Self Purchased CD: The Beatles, 62-66. (Note: this should read 'or LP' for those of us in the 30+ set.)
First Piercing/Tattoo: ear at age 18.
First True Love: The one I once referred to as My Mostly Companion.
First Enemy: snotty punk that picked on my sister on her way home from school.

LASTS
Last Big Car Ride: road trip to Maryland this past year.
Last Kiss: the very sweet but very unsuitable young lady I dated Nov/Dec.
Last Library Book Checked Out: Castles of Steel by Robert K. Massie
Last Movie Seen: Hell is For Heroes - a very good b & w Steve McQueen Flick.
Last Beverage Drank: Coca-Cola
Last Food Consumed: Snickers Bar
Last Phone Call: Bunny
Last CD Played: War - U2
Last Annoyance: yet another idiot
Last Pop Drank: what the hell is pop?
Last Ice Cream Eaten: Most likely Chocolate Chip.
Last Time Scolded: last night
Last Shirt Worn: brown sweater

I...
am frequently a pain in the ass.
want an Ipod. Still.
have more books than I'll have time to read in this lifetime.
wish my mouth didn't sometimes get ahead of my brain.
hate the Yankees.
fear clowns.
hear it's going to snow again on Friday.
search for peace of mind.
wonder if I'll meet 'her.'
love coffee, sushi, family, friends. Not necessarily in that order.
always write left, bat righty.
am not easy to know.
dance only at home folks. It's best for y'all that way.
sing in the car.
cry very very rarely.

Yes or No?
Keep a Diary? No. Not unless you count this.
Like to Cook No. It's more a chore for me than anything else.
Have A Secret You Have Not Shared With Anyone? Yes.

DO YOU...?
HAVE A CRUSH:Yes.
WANT TO GET MARRIED: Yes
GET MOTION SICKNESS: No.
THINK YOURE A HEALTH FREAK: Hell no.
CURRENT HAIR COLOR: brown
EYE COLOR: Green
BIRTHPLACE: Boston

Favorites
Number: 44
Color: green
Day: Saturday
Month: December
Song(s): Ring of Fire, Bastards of Young.
Season: Fall
Drink: Gin Martini, straight up, lemon twist.

In the last 24 hours have you...
cried? No
helped someone? Yup - door holding is an ingrained habit.
bought something? A book, Positively Fifth Street by James McManus.
gotten sick? No
gone to the movies? No
said 'I love you?' No
written a real letter? No
talked to an ex? No
missed an ex? Yes
written in journal? Again - not unless this counts.
had a serious talk? No
missed someone? Yes
hugged someone? No
Made a girl moan? Sadly no. Unless it was one of dismay.

Let the Good Times Roll

I have tomorrow off. And Thursday as well, prudent lad that I am. So does Heather, if I'm not mistaken. And Bunny has confirmed his arrival on New England soil. Let the games begin...

First order of business - dinner at Bunny's house tonight. One of the perks to be enjoyed when he visits. Bunny's mother is an excellent cook; for a bachelor with marginal cooking skills like myself this kind of opportunity can not be passed up. Especially since as of late she sends me on my way with containers of food for the next few days.

Tomorrow we're heading into Boston. No specific plans or destinations have been agreed on,it will probably be a play-it-by-ear kind o' thing. But if past performance does occasionally predict future results, we could wind up at any one of the following at some point:
The Brendan Behan Pub
Kitty O'Shea's
James's Gate
The Good Life
Lucky's
The Cantab Lounge
The B-Side Lounge
Silvertone
The Littlest

I'm sure I'm overlooking some worthy entries, but as far the usual suspects go, that's a pretty good line-up. No doubt we'll wind up at the local, especially once the crowds come out in the evening. Hard to beat the home court instant service advantage being a regular confers.

See you all on Friday.

The Hat Squad...

...gains another recruit.

We'll change the world, one head at a time.

Cracking the Case

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is a particular favorite of mine. It would be nice if this particular lead pans out and the stolen paintings are returned.

At least El Jaleo remains. I absolutely love this painting and could look at it for hours.

Red Sox Air

I have no way of confirming this, but I suspect SouthWest Airlines may be the 'official' airline of Red Sox fans. At least when the Sox are at Camden Yards.

Providence to Baltimore, round trip: $100.

The chance to see Pedro and Schilling open the season for the Sox.

I see some Nomah Polo in my future.

Prime Directive of Poker

If you know of Will Wheaton at all, you probably remember him as the perpetually annoying Wesley Crusher on Star Trek: The New Generation.

Well, he also has his own blog, which is rather well written. I particularly enjoyed his story about playing in an illegal poker tournament.

I look at my stack: I have about 2200, I guess. Mrs. Beautiful is stacked . . . and is also the chip leader with over 4000. Mr. Director has about 1000 less than she does. He reaches into his jacket, and takes out a Camel cigarette.

"You can't smoke in here, sir," the dealer says.
"What?" Mr. Director says.
"It's against the law." The dealer says.
"We're in an illegal cardroom, and you're worried about me smoking?"
"Sorry." The dealer says. "House rules."

For a moment, I think Mr. Director is going to punch him, but he laughs. "Fucking California," he says. We all laugh as he puts the cigarette behind his ear.

Lying in Odessa, Part One
Lying in Odessa, Part Two
Lying in Odessa, Part Three
Lying in Odessa, Part Four

Requiescat in Pace

I was going to post something about my current fascination with fedoras. But somehow that does not seem appropriate today.

UPDATE
Bill McCabe has some pictures up from Madrid. We're looking at the biggest terrorist attack since 9/11, possibly orchestrated by al Qaeda.

You know what else you should be looking at? The over-turned baby stroller in the second picture Bill posted. That is indicative of what al Qaeda considers a 'crusader' and a valid target: a child riding a train. Keep that in mind the next time you hear someone spout some lame gibberish about 'root causes' or 'understanding why they hate us.'

Walking Down Madison

When you get to the corner don't look at those freaks,
Keep your head down low and stay quick on your feet.
-Kirsty MacColl

I have somehow become a weirdo-magnet. In increasing numbers, all manner of odd individuals are compelled to approach me.

I'm used to this sort of thing at the local, where it's not unusual for a peaceful evening to be interrupted by the likes of Katie Stumblepants or the Pitbull. So I came to believe that it was the local itself that was the root of the problem, functioning as some sort of Bermuda Triangle where strange things just happened.

But it apparently it's me, because the weirdness has of late spread to the laundromat.

The first indication of this came several weeks ago. I was entering the laundromat, baskets of dirty clothes in hand, when I came face to face in the doorway with Happy Crazy Girl. She stopped in the door, blocking me from entering, and stared at me for a long moment. Then she announced "Well look at those big green eyes!" and darted past me into the parkinglot. I shrugged and proceeded in to do my laundry; that particular happening was easy enough to ignore.

But last night's incident was full-blown-capital-dubya-weirdness.

I stepped into the laundromat, intent on grabbing my now clean clothes out of the dryer. My eyes were immediately drawn to the older woman dancing in front of the dryers. The exact row of dryers containing my laundry. She was wearing headphones but I couldn't see any sort of walkman or mp3 player; for all I know she was dancing to some sort of strange music in her head that only she could hear.

The Dancing Queen watched me approach as I came down the row of washers. She was still gyrating in front of my dryer.

"Excuse me, " I said, "I just need to slide by you here."
"Nice night for laundry, " she said.
I nodded. "Yup," I said, "Nice night."
"Are you having fun?"

She reeked of booze. Every shake of her head, twist of her hips, and wave of her arms sent the stench of alcohol wafting at me. Now I was deliberately avoiding eye contact. I had no desire to get drawn into some sort of conversation with this person; all I wanted was to get my laundry and get the hell out.

The problem was, Dancing Queen refused to move. In fact, she was actively impeding me. We were now engaged in some sort of awkward dance, as I shuffled to one side to another, desperately trying to reach the dryer door, and she shuffled with me, boxing me out.

I head faked her. Nice juke, if I say so myself; faked right, went left, ripped open the dryer door, and began shoveling clothes into the basket. Dancing Queen responded by rubbing up against the adjacent dryer, alternately humming to herself and making noises I believe were intended to be licentious, if not sexy.

I ignored her, and out of the corner of my eye watched her wander off. By the time I finished emptying my second dryer she was gone.

I think it may be time to consider patronizing a different establishment.

The Perpetual Adolescent...

...or, Another Reason We Should Bring Back the Hat!*

From an essay in The Weekly Standard:

"WHENEVER ANYONE under the age of 50 sees old newsreel film of Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak of 1941, he is almost certain to be brought up by the fact that nearly everyone in the male-dominated crowds--in New York, Boston, Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland--seems to be wearing a suit and a fedora or other serious adult hat. The people in those earlier baseball crowds, though watching a boyish game, nonetheless had a radically different conception of themselves than most Americans do now. A major depression was ending, a world war was on. Even though they were watching an entertainment that took most of them back to their boyhoods, they thought of themselves as adults, no longer kids, but grown-ups, adults, men." (emphasis mine)

Exactly. Serious men wear serious hats. Or at least know to dress like an adult when the occasion requires. Now contrast that image with what you find today:

"This informality has now been institutionalized. Few are the restaurants that could any longer hope to stay in business if they required men to wear a jacket and tie. Today one sees men wearing baseball caps--some worn backwards--while eating indoors in quite good restaurants."

First and foremost, there's only one reason for wearing a baseball hat backwards: you're the starting catcher.

Secondly, if you don't know when it's appropriate to dress up, you're an ignoramus. Everytime I go to say, Symphony, or a show at the Wang, I'm shocked at the number of people who are attending and are dressed like they're lounging around their living room or catching a Buffet show. Did no one ever teach them to dress appropriately for the occasion? Are they oblivious to the fact that it's disrespectful to the performers to show up for their show looking you rolled out of bed?

"At a certain point in American life, the young ceased to be viewed as a transient class and youth as a phase of life through which everyone soon passed. Instead, youthfulness was vaunted and carried a special moral status. Adolescence triumphed, becoming a permanent condition. As one grew older, one was presented with two choices, to seem an old fogey for attempting to live according to one's own standard of adulthood, or to go with the flow and adapt some variant of pulling one's long gray hair back into a ponytail, struggling into the spandex shorts, working on those abs, and ending one's days among the Rip Van With-Its. Not, I think, a handsome set of alternatives."

Hence the inexplicable inability of certain people to wear body- or age-appropriate clothing.

I could go on and on quoting from this essay. Really, you should just read it for yourself.

*And by hat, I mean fedoras thankyouverymuch.

UPDATE: Heather seconds the notion of a fedora revival. I'm going to have purchase a new one for her wedding though; mine is rather battered.

Operation Roaddogs: Planning and Analysis

As of this afternoon the Planning Committe (i.e. Bunny) has come up with three potential plans of attack for this key operation. They are as follows...

Teddy Ballgame Package
July 2nd (Fri): Dan flies into BWI; depart Baltimore at 7pm or so, heading for Cincinnati.
July 3rd (Sat): Cincinnati game at 7pm, leave for St. Louis
July 4th (Sun): St. Louis game at 115pm. Leave for Minneapolis.
July 5th (Mon): Minnesota game at 710pm. Leave for Milwaukee.
July 6th (Tue): Milwaukee game at 705pm. Leave for Chicago.
July 7th (Wed): Chicago White Sox game at 705. Crash in Chicago.
July 8th (Thu): Hang in Chicago during the day. Sleep. At some point head for Toronto.
July 9th (Fri): Toronto game at 705pm. Leave for Philadelphia.
July 10th (Sat): Philadelphia game at 120pm. Hang in Philly that night.
July 11th (Sun): Head to Baltimore game at 135pm.

Luis Tiant Package
July 2: Leave Baltimore
July 3: Cincinnati
July 4: St. Louis
July 5: Milwaukee
July 6: Chicago
July 7: Chicago
July 8: Toronto
July 9: Baseball Hall of Fame
July 10: Philly
July 11: Baltimore

Manny Ramirez Package
Just wing it. If we get there, we get there.

Some tough choices to be made in the coming days. Regardless of the option selected, we're going to have to cover a lot of ground.

Portrait of A Kitchenista

The grill lady in the cafeteria is a member of that peculiar species of Irish-American that delights in misery, both her own and other's. No doubt she was an unpleasant child; now she has reached a cranky middle-age and will most likely spend her declining years speaking of the many injustices she experienced. Secretly she wishes she had a job scrubbing floors so that her children could tell maudlin tales of the terrible suffering poor old mother endured for them.

If you ask her for a steak and cheese, you will receive a look and sigh suggesting that you just added an extra quotient of tears to her already sorrowful existence.

If you ask her for fries with that, you are now adding yet another occurrence to the long list of persecutions endured by the Irish through out history.

Don't even think of asking for onions.

Tony C

"For the few of us who were listening to the occasional spring training game from the Arizonian desert, one name seemed to be on the lips of announcers Curt Gowdy, Ned Martin, and Art Gleason that March - Anthony Richard Conigliaro. In a region where tribal affiliation has always meant a lot, here was another "one of our own." He was only nineteen at the time, a right-handed hitter and outfielder who possessed a faultless, transcendent swing seeming designed especially for Fenway Park itself. Tony Conigliaro had graduated from St. Mary's High School in Lynn less than two years before but had spent most of his life in the back alleys of East Boston. "

A damn fine piece on Tony Conigliaro.

Operation Roaddogs

Two guys. One fast car. Two thousand miles. Eight days. A lot of ballgames.

This operation is currently in the analysis and planning stage. Tentatively scheduled for July 2004. Destinations (in order): Baltimore, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Milwaukee, Chicago, Toronto, Philadelphia. Updates will be provided as planning nears completion and zero hour approaches.

Note to self: seriously consider getting that Ipod prior to departing. Otherwise you'll be stuck listening to Bunnys' music the whole time, and that just won't do.

His Big Fat Ego

From today's Boston Globe, an article on the passions surrounding the Red Sox and Yankees spring training game:

"...emotions came to a boiling point in a stadium parking area, where Yankees publicist Rick Cerrone and a longtime Sox security guard, Dave McHugh, a retired postman from Portland, Maine, had a run-in.

"Do you know who I am?" shouted Cerrone, contending that McHugh had pushed him. "I'm with the American League champion New York Yankees, and you're a typical Boston Red Sox employee."

McHugh said he was merely trying to pass through a crowd of reporters in order to allow some Yankee players who had driven down from Tampa to leave, and that he'd put his hand out, said "excuse me," and gave Cerrone a small push when Cerrone inadvertently backed into him.

Riddle me this: how can anyone allow the words 'do you know who I am' to leave his or her mouth and not immediately dissolve into fits of laughter? Or at least follow it up by announcing 'I'm Moe Green. You don't buy me out, I buy you out!'

The answer? I think you must a rather inflated sense of how important you really are, to be able say something like that and not realize how petty and ridiculous you appear as soon as you use those words.

Your Weekly Dose

This week's cheddar....

1. Where do you do your best thinking?
Behind the wheel, definitely. There's something very soothing - almost zen-like - about driving, that allows my body to go on autopilot and my mind to roam.

2. What was the last thing you gave away?
A bag of books I sent to the VA hospital.

3. What generation do you most identify with? What generation interests you the most?
My generation. How could I 'identify' with another generation? Although I will say that my grandfather's generation had cooler fashions for men. The fedora needs to make a serious comeback. Generations don't necessarily interest me; events and individual personages do.

4. What was your favorite pet growing up?
Well, we only had one the entire I lived at home. No contest here.

5. What keeps you up at night?
Too much coffee usually.

6. What do you love about your significant other?
That she's a sexy geek who can handle dive bars and high society with equal ease. And she likes to read, go to museums, sleep late, and do crosswords.

Hehe. A man can dream, right?

Stalin's Legacy

On this day in 1953 Josef Stalin died at the age of 73.

But his his evil army lives on...

Millions of giant Pacific crabs, whose ancestors were brought to Europe by Joseph Stalin in the 1930s, are marching south along Norway's coast, devouring everything in their path.

The monster crabs, which can weigh up to 25lb and have a claw-span of more than three feet, are proving so resilient that scientists fear they could end up as far south as Gibraltar.

Reminds me of the movie Them.

Average Joe Gutshot

So looks trumped personality last night on Average Joe. Local boy Brian Worth was kicked to the curb, discarded for a pretty boy with all the warmth and charm of the ball peen hammer currently serving as Keanu Reeves' acting coach.

Was anybody surprised by this turn of events? I don't even have to try to be cynical; all I have to do is wake up.

Those of us watching this down at the local didn't need sound to figure out what was in store for Mr. Worth. It was quite obvious that Ms. Meek was wearing her pity face. You know the pity face - the mask some women put on in an attempt to convince you they really do feel bad about what they're about to do.*

"Even though she told Brian he was "the most interesting person [she'd] ever met," even though they spent a magical day in Fenway Park meeting pitcher Tim Wakefield, even though she had clicked with his four best buddies, Larissa opted for a dull, pent-up dude with the magnetism of a piece of wood. Like Melana from the first "Average Joe," our girl led with her eyes, and not her heart."

That part about Fenway is a tough break. Which is why Fenway Park should be reserved for truly special signifcant others. It is, after all, sacred ground.

*No, I'm not attacking women. Men do the stone (or Steve McQueen) face - if they're trying to act all cool and aloof - or the weepy face - if they're the sensitive artsy bad-poetry-writing type.

Last Lines

Here's another last line - actually a paragraph - that I find memorable.

"Then the Man threw his two boots and his little stone axe (that makes three) at the Cat, and the Cat ran out of the Cave and the Dog chased him up a tree; and from that day to this, Best Beloved, three proper Men out of five will always throw things at a Cat whenever they meet him, and all proper Dogs will chase him up a tree. But the Cat keeps his side of the bargain too. He will kill mice and he will be kind to Babies when he is in the house, just as long as they do not pull his tail too hard. But when he has done that, and between times, and when the moon gets up and night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him. Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods or up the Wet Wild Trees or on the Wet Wild Roofs, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone."
-The Cat That Walked By Himself, by Rudyard Kipling.

Almost succeeds in making cats sound cool. Yes, I likes me some Kipling. Terribly incorrect I'm sure - and truth be told some of his work has not aged well. But the man had the gift of story, thats for damn sure.