A while ago, I did a post about the Bodies exhibit, titled "I'm Not An Animal." The corresponding quiz was "What the hell do I mean by the title of this post?"

One answer was that I was going for an Elephant Man theme. Which makes sense. Weird-looking bodies on display, like the Elephant Man, hence, the famous line from the movie about him, (Although that line was "I am not an animal.")

What I was thinkng of, though, was the Sex Pistols song "Bodies." The chorus of the song is "Bodies/I'm not an animal".

The tune is about abortion. Specifically, a mentally challenged woman who is impregnated repeatedly as the men around her take advantage. Besides the fact that it's an awesome song that should be played at eleven, it brings up quite an interesting topic. I searched a little for the history and meaning of the song, and found a really insightful article about it. That article can be found right here. (It seems like the page doesn't always load up, so, please, keep trying if it doesn't work at first.)

The author delves into the meaning of each line of the song. He pretty much sums everything up with "Without question, the right of all women to safe, readily available abortion must be defended on all fronts, perhaps doubly so by men."

I totally agree with this.

(Isn't it funny how the dust from the divisive Bronson issue finally settles, and then I go and talk about abortion?)

I was thinking, though, did the song's author, John Lydon, use the "I'm not an animal" line, not only because it fit, of course, but as a tribute to the Elephant Man's line as well? Well, the movie The Elephant Man was released in 1980. The song, as any good punk knows, came out in '77. But, still, I thought, Maybe the "I am not an animal" line was already famous, the catch phrase of the actual "elephant man," Joseph Merrick? But I haven't found any evidence that the line wasn't just thought up by the screenwriter.

Ironically, the author of the article linked above mentions the Elephant Man when talking about the song!

But unless someone can prove A. that The Elephant Man's famous line was either an actual sentence he was known for saying or that it was written somewhere, perhaps in a book about him, before 1977 AND B. that Lydon specifically took that line from Merrick or a writer who attributed the line to Merrick, nobody gets any points for this quiz.

Still, I like how this all tied together, as I'd been meaning to do a post about abortion rights, what with what's going on in South Dakota right now. The governor of SoDak, as my college roommate from Sioux Falls used to call it, signed into law a bill that makes it illegal for a woman to get an abortion, even in cases of rape and incest. In other words, if you are, say, a 15 year old girl, and your uncle rapes you, and you become pregnant, you are punished--for doing nothing wrong--by having to carry a baby in your womb for nine months and then give birth to it. Failure to comply makes you and your doctor a criminal. In the United States of America. In 2005.

It's time to put down the flag and stop talking about other people "hating freedom," and start allowing people to actually have it. Yes, South Dakota, even people without a dick.

Fortunately, people are fighting back.


Quiz Apple Pi: What the hell do I mean by the title of this post?

Left: Mr. Dunbar on Hell, No on TV. Right: Sox on NESN on laptop. Out of frame: An annoyed Chan.

I think the main reason I hate UConn is the fact that I witnessed the bandwagon go from a Camaro on blocks in the yard to a Rolls Royce up close, having been born and raised in Connecticut. Actually, that metaphor doesn't make sense. Because the people who got on when the vehicle was crappy should get credit, whereas none of the people I grew up with should get any. (Barring a couple of my friends who actually attended the school.)

It seems like that school was a joke until the day the basketball team gained popularity. Then, all of a sudden, everybody had the perfect excuse to get a gray or blue "Connecticut" sweatshirt. And as people's "love" for "their" Huskies grew, so did my hatred.

Also, my dad taught me to not like UConn for some reason.

So seeing their basketball team win a couple of times has been rough, especially since the other team could have put them away. Some of these teams would be better off with me on the court. Because at least I wouldn't be careless out there. Terrible job by these kids and coaches.

It's funny, my friend, Jon, who I've known since elementary school (pictured, sitting between ref and event staff guy) has such a prominent position in the Big East now, he sits at the scorer's table at all these NCAA tourney games. He's in DC now and will be at the Final Four. He literally has the best seat in the house, at center court. At one point tonight, they showed the ref reviewing a play on a little TV on the sideline, and my friend is sitting there, on screen for quite a while, and the ref is pointing at him and talking, like "Get me the correct replay, Jere's friend from elementary school!" Chan (who has known him since high school) and I got a real kick out of watching him do his really important job--in our living room, and in front of a live national audience. (Here's the part where your average blogger would put in some lame phrase that's obviously a joke that only his or her friends get. I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, how would I work the phrase "water bucket" in anyway? Come on.)

yankees.com has done a serious ticket "dump," as they're hilariously called. Up to four seats are now available to ALL Sox games, except for the one weekend series, which is, of course, the one I really want to go to. It actually gives you the option now of entering "4" for the weekend games, too, but then it says none are available. But that might mean they will be added soon. Or that they all got nabbed already. Check it out for yourself. Seems like late-week is their time for dumping.

2-run homer by Luis Matos beats us in the bottom of the ninth. Which is good because you don't want to play extra innings in spring training.

Rodrigo Lopez appears to have pitched a complete game, two-hit shutout against us. [Update: Sure enough, mlb.com had that wrong. It was only six innings. Regardless, the following lines still apply.]

Maybe Tito said, "Okay guys, you need to get used to being dominated by Rodrigo Lopez, because it's gonna happen a lot. So don't get any hits or anything."

"HOME RUNS: MIN - TERRY TIFFEE (1) OFF RANDY JOHNSON IN THE 4TH"

I'm sure Randy was just working on his gyro-pitch.

Four shutout innings by Lenny DiNardo so far, too.

You can now get pavilion box seats to almost every game, 90 bucks a pop, over at redsox.com. Singles only, though. You can just order one, then "add another game," and get another one, though. Since they just went on sale, you can get two close together, and on the home plate side of the boxes. Many of these that come up right away are Row A, too.

I think I'm out for these. These aren't the EMC club or the pavilion club, but the boxes along the sides. I got some 25 dollar pavilion standing room a while ago, which are right behind these. No point in paying the extra 65, unless you have a problem with standing.

Morrison and the Zags just lost in heartbreaking fashion. Should've won. Hopefully he comes back next year and gives it another shot.

Colbert was really fun tonight. I recommend going to a taping. They didn't show the audience, but I did get recognized by the warm-up comic. First, he joked about how a certain section of the audience just didn't have enough energy. He started narrowing it down, and drew the good/bad line right next to me. He said I was "obviously a goof, got a Bad News Bears jersey on..." and said everyone to the right of me was a little too tight. To be called a goof is the highest compliment to me. This was the second time in my life I've been called this on a first impression. The other time was by Brian, who, along with his girlfriend Jessica, and Chan were at the taping with me. I remember asking him after we'd become friends what he'd thought of me when he firts saw me. He said, "I thought you were a goof, with your South Park shirt on." (I got mine in 1997, before you had one.)

Anyway, the comic wasn't done with me. He came back over and said "I can't stop looking at your Bad News Bears jersey, and you got the oldest-looking Red Sox hat on...when's that from, Carl Yastrzemski's rookie year?" He asked if there were any other Sox fans, and several pockets of people throughout the crowd went nuts.

Also saw a guy today in a Sox hat carrying his little boy. He had the kid in a Red Sox jacket. Last week I saw two different women in Sox hats, pushing strollers. I like this new Red Sox demographic. Raisin' 'em up right in enemy territory. Nice.

Yes. I just bought tickets to the Futures at Fenway doubleheader this summer, which will feature a Lowell game and a PawSox game. I realized today that I'd watch any teams if it meant sitting in sweet seats at Fenway at a discounted price. In fact, they could show movies on the Green Monster (an idea I've suggested before), and I'd pay to get in.

So I grabbed a bunch of seats right behind the visitor's on-deck circle for 20 bucks each. You can actually get up to eight tickets, and they range from 5 bucks to 30 for front row Monster or the new pavillion boxes. Both of which would have been cool, but I didn't want to miss a chance to sit so close to the field, and for 10 bucks less. Now watch all my friends will say "I would've gone if you got Monster seats."

The reason I got this chance is because I'm a 10-Game Plan holder. Which, in this case, makes me a season ticket holder. I'm not always included in this elite bunch. When it comes to free parking for season ticket holders, I'm the average Joe/Josephine. For, I'm "one of them."

I was pysched when I got the letter in the (actual) mail yesterday. And I'd like to offer this public service to any season ticket/10-Game Plan holders who didn't check their mail yesterday, or who's mail carrier is slow or whatever: Click on the link for the Futures game at redsox.com. Your password is "BRS" followed by your season ticket account number. Your password is your zip code. This will work if you've got a 10-gamer. Maybe it's different for "real" season ticket holders, I don't know. But, I just thought since I got the letter yesterday, and the special time to buy was today at noon, maybe I should give people a heads-up.

Also, ARSFIPT Ultimate Chan Pack members may remember I had tickets to a Colbert Report taping a while ago, which got messed up due to Brian's car being towed, and then we got shut out anyway because so many people showed up. Tonight is the "make-up" night. We were given "VIP" tickets since we got screwed the last time. Colbert rarely shows the crowd, but occasionally he'll high five the front row on his way to the interview table. If he does, look for me. I'll be wearing a Bad News Bears jersey and a Sox hat. Tonight at 11:30 on Comedy Central. I hope I do get on TV, because then I can go home and watch myself, and that will negate the fact that last night I watched my shitty, loud, rude neighbor playing in the backup band of a major national artist on a major network TV-show. That's New York for ya. One night your neighbor's on TV, the next night you are. Maybe.

Walking over to the laundromat, I passed one of the many bars in my neighborhood. The sign outside read "YANKEES VS. RED SOX 7 PM. Here we go again!"

I knew I'd only be seeing the first hour of the game, since my friend Mike was coming into the city to eat dinner with Chan and I. The Yes broadcast began with a shot of Babe Ruth signing his yankee contract. Oh, dear lord. Here we go again, indeed.

Then Michael Kay's intro went on to describe all the other players who went from Boston to New York, and how they all rode around the field on horseback in their new pinstriped glory. This, of course, all led up to a million shots of Damon, and a million more hair references. Kay ended the intro by saying that "when we come back, we'll get to know him even better." At this point, my laundry was about ready, so I gladly sacrificed seeing the Damon behind-the-music. However, when I got back, Pat called me, needing to tell someone just how cheesy it was.

Michael Kay no longer has a chin. It doesn't appear he got off the couch all winter.

Moving on, I got to see a little of the game, and listening to Kay made me want to puke as usual. It's not even April. I understand Stern hit a homer, as did Wily Mo. And Papelbon did fairly well.

While it was definitely exciting to see some of Sox-yanks--as soon as Kay said the two team names I felt the old familiar rush--what happened at the Food Emporium topped it.

Chan and I met Mike, his girlfriend Gigi, and Nancy Wong at a place called the Panorama Cafe. We had a great time, just hanging out, telling tales of our various near-death experiences. Then, Mike came out with a profound statement: "It's impossible to swallow six saltines in a minute."

Whoa. If there was one thing in all the world I knew to be certain at that moment, it was that I would be attempting to prove that statement wrong, and soon.

We finished the meal (during which we caught a little of the game--on a TV across the street. People who aren't huge baseball fans can be very impressed when you can tell them who's batting not only from 100 feet away, but through the windows of a bus between you and the TV) and headed to Food Emporium, which is a chain of supermarkets here in New York.

Chan located the Saltines--we decided they had to be "Premium" to be legit--and Gigi made the purchase. We took a position just inside the exit door and got ready to take our shots at dispelling the six-saltine myth.

This is what's great about New York. In the quaint town I grew up in, a supermarket manager would kick you out fast for doing anything but shopping. In New York, as long as you remained clothed, it's a free-for-all.

The official rules: You must eat and swallow six saltines in one minute. No water allowed. Just the six saltines. Nancy Wong took the first shot. After much conferring, she went for the 2-2-2 method. We quickly realized this myth might not be a myth. A minute passed, and she'd barely gotten four crackers into her mouth, let alone swallowed all six. I was up next. I figured 3-3 was the way to go. Here's the thing: it takes a while to get the saltines into a swallowable form. By the time you've made it to your fisrt swallow of your first 'tine or first group of 'tines, there's just no time to repeat the performance with your remaining 'tines.

Mike held the watch, and it was quite amusing hearing him give updates as to how much time was left on the clock, while each person took their turn with giant cheekfuls of starch.

The frustrating thing was, none of us ever really was on pace for success. You've got to eat one every ten seconds, and no matter how you break up the six--or even if you literally break them up--you'll always fall behind scedule. You can't play catch-up in this league. Once you fall off the pace, you're screwed.

I came up with the "eat all six at once" method. (Remember, this is all being done as shoppers walked by with their purchases, and with the other four people in the group trying to make the eater laugh.) I stuffed them all in, and quite fast, I might add. But that minute flew by. Around 45 seconds, I gagged and coughed up half the load into a plastic bag Chan had grabbed from the end of the aisle. I was done at that point.

On one attempt, Nancy Wong actually was ahead of schedule. Four down, 28 seconds left. But even in a case like this, she didn't swallow all six until the 90-second mark. This remains the record for our group.

I don't know where this came from, or how word spread, but it's true. You can't swallow six saltines in one minute. It sounds easy. But it's impossible. Try it and report back to me.

Needless to say, my tummy hurts. I ate 24 to 30 saltines tonight.

Update: Apparently, it's not impossible. And now that I think about it, a lot of you know all about this thing. Oh well. If I can reach just one person...

I just saw on the New York news (and of course I flipped around and saw it on each network) that the book Game of Shadows not only tells the whole story of Barry Bonds' steroid use, but tells more about Sheffield and Giambi's as well. Something about receipts for shipments to Giambi's house and his parents' house. And about how Sheffield didn't just "unknowingly" use the cream and the clear. [Update: Here's an article.]

All stuff we've known for a while. But maybe they will finally be punished for it.

I noticed an article a little while ago, when the excerpt from the book came out, in which Joe Torre was asked about Bonds. Instead of saying,"Hey, two of my guys did the same thing," he gave some righteous remarks about how it's bad for the face of baseball. Tonight, he was interviwed in the dugout, and he said "I haven't read the book," and "You shouldn't believe everything you read." He didn't look very comfortable answering the questions.

So I will hope Sheffield and Giambi finally start getting talked about when people talk about Bonds. BSM wrote a magnificent piece about that when the excerpt came out, which I meant to link to at the time. It pretty much sums up my feelings about the Bonds thing. I know BSM's also a proponent of the "Hello, Shef and Giambi did it, too, people, wake up..." So I look forward to hearing his thoughts on this newer info.

Speaking of BSM, ARSFIPT is proud to be the first Red Sox blog to wish The Broseph a happy birthday. Ha ha!

The Red Sox' Sally League team, the Greenville Drive, will be playing their home games at a mini-Fenway Park.

(I like how they say it even has a Pesky Pole. So, that's like, the tall, yellow kind?)

All this talk about Wily Mo, while leading to very interesting electronic conversation, is getting us off my main topic, which is the way Bronson Arroyo was treated.

I know that supposedly there was no "handshake agreement." And I know that Bronson will turn out fine, move on to his new place, and make a go of it over at Grover Cleveland, so to speak. (That reference would've been perfect if he'd been traded to Cleveland. Damn, I should have thought of that for Marte.) Maybe we and Bronson were never meant to be, just maybe think of him once in a while.

Talk about getting off topic.

So...

I'm not saying we should feel bad for Bronson. But, you know what? I do anyway. I read his reaction to the trade and it made me sad. As I thought he would, he showed a lot of class (I hate that word, with it's meaningless connection to the yankee organization, much like how WCSG always points out how hard it's become to listen to "Enter Sandman") in his departure. It was hard to read his words--saying how he just would've loved to be here, even if he had to come out of the bullpen. And how much he loved coming to Fenway, and the fans, and how he just thought he'd be here for a while.

I really don't know much about business. But it seems like common sense to keep a person like that on your side. Especially since, on top of all that other stuff, he helped win us a World Series, which is the ultimate goal.

I'd like to propose the following notion: Baseball is not a business. There, I proverbially said it. "Major League Baseball" is a business. The game played within that league is, obviously, baseball. But that doesn't make "baseball," as a whole, a business. If it was, we wouldn't go to the games, sit in the stands, cheer, boo, or write pages and pages about it. We wouldn't cry either of the two tear groups over it.

The difference between the Red Sox and Microsoft is that the stock we put into the Sox is emotional. Stockholders of a company get paid in actual currency when their favorite does well. We get something, good or bad, that can't be measured in loonies and twonies.

The "nerd" thing was cute at first. Theo came in here with a crapload of knowledge that a lot of other teams are still trying to figure out. But if you take it to the point where you're trading away David Ortiz for an infant because "in the past, babies born with large femurs have developed into great opposite field hitters," well, you're going to piss some people off.

The message Theo is sending is that even if I do fall in love with Wily Mo, and he takes us to another championship, and he says "I'll take less money to be here because I love it here so much," Theo will have no problem staring him in the face and saying, "Sorry, we found a guy with more potential. He's totally unproven, and you're the king of the town, but, sorry, business is business. Bye."

I want to like players and be able to grow attached without thinking that they're just going to be tossed out as soon as they have a bad month. I love seeing my team win because they had more heart than the team that was meticulously put together with computers. And I don't just blindly love every guy. Read my thoughts on Edgar Renteria. I just think there should be a lot of factors that go into building and maintaining a ballclub. It shouldn't all be based on stats, and projections that mean nothing.

If baseball were a business, the teams would just go strictly by stats, getting the exact player they need for each specific situation, and play the games in a big vacuum with no spectators. The winning front office at the end of each year would divide up their money, and have a little private party. The stockholders would get their checks in the mail.

And that's the way it looks to be leaning. The problem with doing everything by the book, and not considering players' or fans' feelings, is that the players will stop coming to your team, and the fans will stop coming to your park.

Eventually. People like me and you--a person who cares enough about the Red Sox to go searching the internet to find other fans' opinions on a transaction--will always be there. But we're getting old. Young kids don't care about baseball. They're too busy having sex with their teachers and thinking there's something independent about indie rock. So what these teams are doing is playing a dangerous game, stretching every dollar out of our loyalty. They seem to want to win so that they can make more money, not to make us happy--which should be their number one job. They didn't stop to consider the fact that some people would rather see someone they've grown attached to.

Theo proved me wrong with Nomar. But that was in a situation where something needed to be done right away, he made the call, and we saw immediate results. (Although had Dave Roberts eaten one less Wheatie on the morning of his fateful steal, who knows what crazy alternate universe we'd all be living in.)

That was the old Theo, though. I am starting to think that when he left, he was buried in the old Micmac burial ground. Once they're in there, you have to leave 'em there. You can dig 'em up, but they won't be the same.

The thing is, even if he "proves me wrong" with the on-field results of this trade, I'll still be kind of pissed at how this all went down, and what it really means for the future of the Red Sox.

More Bronson talk to come, but here's a quick update. If you sprung for the 60 bucks to get the "Ultimate Fan Pack," you can go now to the special ticket window that you should've gotten an email about. Kind of a sneaky move by them here, since at first they had claimed it would open yesterday at noon. That didn't happen. Then, up until at least noon today, there was just a message that said this magical ticket window would open "later this week." I checked it for the hell of it around 3:00, and it was open. So, go there quick. Don't miss your chance to see Bronson Arroyo and the 2006 Boston Red Sox! Oh, wait.

Cora, Loretta, Manny, and Ortiz have gone deep today.

There are literally three different ads on the main page of redsox.com (and all the other mlb sites) right now to "get the WBC on DVD!" That didn't take very long.

This has been the second biggest day in the history of my blog, after Johnny Damon day. Thanks. It's been very interesting to see people's differing opinions. Some love the trade, while I'm sitting here still thinking it really might be a practical joke. I know that projections have become a huge part of baseball stats, but, as someone who has yet to subscribe them at all, I just can't see why this trade was made.

How can we assume David Ortiz is going to teach this guy how to stop striking out? I'd love if Papi came right out and said "I'm supposed to do what now?" How do we know how he's going to do in pressure situations? How do we know how a dude who strikes out a lot is going to handle the fans of Boston? How do we know he's not going to get pissed when Tito uses someone else as a pinch hitter over him? The day projection stats start telling us this stuff in advance (as well as freak accidents, natural disasters, unforeseen illness) is the day it stops being fun for me. The players might as well just play out the games in video game-form at that point.

What we know about Bronson: Not a superstar, but a good pitcher, who can throw a lot of innings, will do what you ask him to, and loves to play here. Has pitched in the postseason, has become comfortable playing in front of the Boston fans and dealing with the media and with the biggest rivalry in sports. Is a great clubhouse guy, and great with the fans. Still has the potential to be a great pitcher. We have a lot of starters, yes. But with injuries, we may need another. Also, if Bronson had given us some more quality spring training starts, and some nice long-relief efforts, he could have been in the rotation.

What we know about Pena: Potential to be a star player. But, a lot of people have that. The guy played in 110 games two years ago. He hit .259 and struck out 108 times. The next year, in eleven less games, his average dropped five points and he struck out eight more times. Also, his OBP went from .316 to .304. This is all in the National League, mind you. I'm still confused as to why he still hasn't put up good numbers, with all this potential. I've got a little projection system of my own, and they say this dude started at shitty and is gettting shittier. Projection: Will get even shittier. I wouldn't judge him on major league numbers if he didn't truly have a chance yet. But he's got a lot of major league time under his belt. He does have good slugging numbers, I will give him that. But I don't think it's worth all the outs, many of which will come in key spots, and not many of which will advance a runner, unless it's on a sacrifice fly. And he's not very good in the field or on the basepaths, so I've heard, although he can play multiple outfield positions. (But so can Gabe Kapler, who hits 23 points higher.)

As I've said, I can see both parts of this trade being made, just not together. If we'd traded, say, another backup position player for Wily Mo, it would have made more sense to me. And if we'd traded the experienced Bronson for a few more pitching prospects, or a proven major leaguer, that also would have made more sense to me. The fact that we also sent cash to the Reds just makes me feel like somebody's got a Paul Epstein sex tape in their possession.

The weird thing is, Wily Mo is the player Theo taught me not to like. If I were ten years old, I'd be loving this trade. "A big dude who can hit bombs over the monster, sweet! I don't care if he only gets four hits all year, as long as they all go really far!" Then Theo came along and taught me the ways of pitching and defense. (But not stolen bases! That's National League and '98 yankees crap.) Now, all of a sudden, Theo's trying to tell me that young power hitters who K a lot will eventually stop striking out as much. I don't know about that, I think he's just making that crap up. Even if it's true, why is this guy different? This guy could cut down on strikeouts by a fourth and that would still be too much anyway.

I really hope I'm proven wrong. I hope Wily Mo turns out to be this great guy who suddenly develops into what everyone says he will. But I kinda think we got Rob'D 'eer.

Something that got lost today: Mike Mussina 4 IP, 10 ER, 12 H, 4 HR.

Even .248 career hitter could have hit him today, heh heh.

In honor of Bronson, I've selected two of my video stills of him. The first one, from Cooperstown, NY, is funny because he's spitting, and it almost looks like he's spitting on David Wells.
And this one, from the night of the concert at Fenway, is good, too, but also funny because Theo is being interviewed by someone who appears to be Phil Hartman.

The bright young star that is Bronson Arroyo has been traded. The guy who signed a contract because he loved us so much has been shipped away. And what's worse, he's been traded for a bag of magic fucking beans. A guy who hit .254 last year to raise his lifetime average to .248.

You can make fun of the front office for selling pieces of the field, but I make fun of them for doing shitty things like this. I'm waiting for them to reveal the fact that "Oh, how could we forget to tell you, we also got three Reds pitching prospects in the deal."

I thought Theo was back. What the shit is this?

I'm glad they had the sense to trade him to the other league. Because I wouldn't blame him if he pulled a Rick Vaughn and stuck it up our fucking ass whenever he pitched against us.

(Note: I don't hold this against Wily Mo Pena. I will root for him, of course. I just hope he can maybe add 30 or 40 points to that pathetic average. Or at least hit a bunch of homers.)

photo of Adam Stern and Jere being comfortable with their sexuality by Reb, September 2005.

Stern outperformed this blog's new friend, Gonzaga's Adam Morrison, on Saturday, going three for four with a double and a homer. And the pitching is settling down nicely. All the starters have done great recently. I like how two of our brightest spots are Alex Cora and Adam Stern, formerly referred to as "holes." It's like I said a while back, our pitching and defense are good enough so that a lineup with Manny and Ortiz and any seven other dudes will suffice. But we've obviously got a lot more than that anyway. Which I why I was never worried. Of course, no real games have been played yet, so we'll see what happens.

I saw the BODIES exhibition this weekend. Kind of scary. But definitely cool. It uses actual human bodies, sliced up and posed, to show you how things work and what they look like. Imagine looking at, for example, all the arteries in a body, but nothing else. They take the idea of a skeleton to the next level, basically. It was like a Slim Goodbody nightmare. They also show individual parts, healthy and not so healthy. If you smoke, feel free to go check out the black lungs. They also show bodies that are cut up so that you see all of its layers.

Then there's a room with a warning for people who might not want to see fetuses in different stages. This was the most interesting room to me. I didn't see why it needed to come with a warning. At the time, I thought, "I just came from 'cancer of the penis,' this is nothing." The pregnant woman with the front of her stomach cut off making the fetus visible is the highlight of the exhibition. No, that took second place. The real highlight was watching all the live humans staring in amazement at what's inside them.

I did read about how some people are pissed about this, because we're not told where the bodies are coming from exactly. I don't know. I don't think they're going out and killing people just for the purpose of art exhibitions. But the jokes you can come up with about that are endless, I can assure you. Think "How to Serve Man."

Quiz Omicron-kite: What the hell do I mean by the title of this post?

The answer to the last quiz was Brooklyn. As in "Easy Andy took Travis to Brooklyn to sell him guns." JS gets the point for being closest to what I was looking for.

Next quiz: Who played for a team that lost a World Series to the Red Sox and also managed against that team in a different World Series?