At The Ramble in Central Park. I got a new camera. Holy crap, these come out huge. Click to make way too big.

This squirrel was either posing or using its tail as a coat. Click to turn it into a giant squirrel. I'll have to figure out how to make them fit a regulation computer screen.

A different angle of the same squirrel.

We didn't see the bald eagle today. However, we eventually came across some people hanging around a telescope. We realized it was pointing at...the home of Pale Male. I decided they were probably focused on this building, and snapped a shot of it. When I got home and zoomed in, there he was. He's at the top of the ladder. Weird.

Note: Everything I say on this blog is my opinion. Some shit-heads think they can tell me what to do and say. To them I say, "Go drink pee--also, the Red Sox won the World Series very recently. There's nothing you can do to change it. I know you were basing your whole pathetic life on the fact that 'they'll always choke in the end.' Well, what have you got now? Nothing. Also, when we're all dead, it won't matter how much dirty money you have in your hands.)

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine (another Red Sox blogger) got a mass e-mail. It was from a guy who was starting up a blog called "Not-so-Great Moments in Red Sox History." His little joke was that he was "launching" it on Bucky Fuckin' Dent's birthday. I guess he thought it would be funny to send out his cheesy press release to Red Sox fans or whatever.

Okay, fine. He wants to do a site about bad things that have happened to the Red Sox. People are allowed to do that.

But when I went to the site, I found some odd and borderline disturbing things.

The opening line of the description is: Just because they won the World Series doesn't mean there is no curse.

Yes, some dipshit actually wrote those words. Again, he has every right to write this stuff but I have every right to rip the shit out of him for it.

Then there are the injuries and deaths which he announces casually:

Tony Conigliaro is hit in the face by a Jack Hamilton pitch in a game at Fenway Park. He would miss the rest of the storied 1967 season and all of 1968.

Jean Yawkey, Red Sox owner, dies at age 83 at Mass General Hospital.

I don't know what this guy's deal is. If he was a Sox fan, and showed some remorse over the sad things, it would be (lame but) okay. And he's from Mass, and even once wrote a letter to the NYT about Rice and Evans, that wasn't anti-Sox. Maybe he's one of these guys that got fed up with the team years ago and turned on them. But he's pretty clearly anti-Sox, as you can tell by the description, and shit like this:

April 20, 1912

In the first game ever at Fenway Park, the Yankees record a number of firsts. Guy Zinn records the first walk as a batter and the first run scored. Roy Hartzell gets the first hit, the first single, and the first RBI. Hal Chase and Bert Daniels share the record for the first steal. Harry Wolter had the first sacrifice hit. Cozy Dolan is the first batter hit by a pitch.
The great news: Yankees lose to the Sox 7-6 in 11 innings.
The not-so-great news: It was pretty much all downhill from here, except for the brief and fading moment in 2004.

I can assure you, I commented about that one. In fact, you can read my comments (I'm the only one who has so far) at the end of almost every month.

I have Googled the guy, and it seems he's a slimy businessman type. He invented some cellphone diet or something, and his blog is full of ads. He also has other blogs that appear to be nothing more than attempts to cash in on stuff. Which must be what this anti-Sox blog is about: He knows the Sox are hot, so he came up with this idea to make money. Many of the blogs he linked to, including MINE, are Sox blogs. Most of the ads are for pro-Sox stuff. He has a list of Sox books. One of my comments was for him to please remove the link to my blog. He didn't do it, but it now says "br?" next to my blog's name.

He wrote a "This Day In History" book about the Atlanta Braves that was published in the 80s. So maybe he figures it's an easy way to write a book (or blog) about a team. The whole damn thing is just copied from other sources anyway. Then there's the shit that just makes no sense:

Red Sox 2B Steve Yerkes, who scored the winning run in the final game of the 1912 World Series, establishes the ML record for the longest game with no chances for a second baseman, as he goes through 15 innings without a chance.

Huh? What a fuckup.

And he attempts to cover his ass with this, from his blog description: "Because of record-keeping and reporting inconsistencies and other reasons, we strongly suggest that you not use this site as a definitive source."

On this, the day of Saddam Hussein's death, I give you Not-so-Grand Moments in MarcO History, found at AdolfSaddamOsama.blogspot.com. Go ahead and check it out. It's about evil people who do stupid stuff, and is in no way related to the Not-So-Great Moments in Red Sox History blog.

Also, feel free to comment at his blog what you think of his shitty site. If you go there, though, please, do not click on any of his ads. I don't want this guy getting any more money. If you want to buy a Red Sox book advertised on his site, just cut and paste the name so he doesn't get any kickback. But it's your choice. You can do whatever you want.

UPDATE: The man finally responds! In his comments, he told me he removed my link like I asked, then told me, and I quote, "You need to calm down." So now he thinks he can tell me what I need to do. Also, he added a new post to his blog about the Sox and the Japanese website, referring to the Sox as "we." Terrible job. What is this guy's deal??

Hanged at dawn. He got off easy.

Hey, where's that bin Laden guy?

[Update: From We Move to Canada. That about sums it up for me.]

Whenever they need an old Sock for a quote, they turn to Gedman. Check out his thoughts on universal deity Jim Rice in this article. The Sox are pushing for Jim Ed this year. As we know, these votes can be influenced, and maybe these voters just need a kick in the pants. Or maybe some of the ones who hated Rice have kicked the bucket since last year. Sorry about some form of the word "kick" being in the last two, now three, sentences.

Chan and I were throwing the Aerobie around in Central Park just now. I heard there's a bald eagle hangin' around over there, but I knew the odds of seeing it would be low since Central Park is bigger than Monaco. But I guess we saw the next best thing. At one point, I caught a throw from Chan, and all of a sudden, gliding right toward me was a gigantic bird. I pointed at it while yelling out to Chan (who thought it was another frisbee flying in from behind him). It flew right past my head, maybe a foot above me and a few to my left. I turned right around, tracking it as it almost grabbed a squirrel, but probably realized it was a tad too big. Then it perched in a tree right behind where I was standing. We walked right underneath it and just stared up at it, about twenty feet above us.

It being New York, much like when the mariachis serenade you on the subway, nobody seemed to bat an eye. Two women on a bench right near us didn't even bother to look up. You'd think they'd at least wonder why we walked right up to them and started staring up into the trees.

We just observed it for a few minutes. It was huge, and had a red tail. It was looking for stuff to kill and eat. Finally, it flew south toward the reservoir.

Even though Chan and I had been talking about Pale Male (also menitoned in the bald eagle article linked above) on our way into the park, I didn't realize that's who we saw until now. Unless there's another red-tailed hawk that lives near Central Park. Tomorrow I take my first photo run with my new digital camera. Guess where I'm going?

The amount of digits in your address is inversely proportional to your height on the social ladder.

Think about it:

1 Richie Rich Manor
42 Whitebread Way
406 Middle O' The Rd.
7286 Blight Blvd.
14724 Dirtbag Dr.
33892 1/2 Slimebucket St.

The Yankees continue to act like the Red Sox. Well, they want to win, don't they? Only one A.L. East team has figured out how to win it all in the last six seasons, so Team Dunbar is following the right one. Too bad the curse of Ramiro Mendoza continues to hang over their heads. Anyway, this article talks about how they're close to trading an old pitcher for young pitchers, and how they want Minky and Loretta to round out their infield.

Chan went to the Apollo* today to check out the Corpse of the Godfather of Soul. He said it was so packed he had no chance of getting in. But he did see some actor that people around him were saying is on "that audition show." And his name may have been Michael. Great reporting, Chan.


*The "A" in the ARSFIPT logo is from the Apollo logo.

Sometimes I'll sing a song in my head and I'll use alternate versions of words. But then I'll have to mangle other words, to save the rhyme:

A sucker in a uniform waitin' to get shot by me, or another negro
And with a gat it don't matter if he's smaller or begro.

This mlb.com article, besides being a rehash of one from a year ago, asks the question

Will Daisuke Matsuzaka be on the mound for the Red Sox on April 8, when his team welcomes fellow Japanese megastar Ichiro Suzuki and the Seattle Mariners to Fenway Park for the home opener?

Answer: No. He'll be in Texas where the Red Sox will be playing the Rangers. The Sox home opener is on April 10th. (Unless they already know the 8th will be the ESPN game, and Dice will be pitching that night, and the writer was thinking of that. For that to happen, he'd have to pitch Opening Day in KC. Unlikely, but if it does happen, we know this was all planned ahead of time. In this case, I'll guess it was just a misprint, but still, terrible job on that.)

Looks like Zito will go to the Giants and Foulke to the Indians. Nothing official yet, though.

I just overheard a middle-aged dude in my office say "Oh, we're just rappin' about a few things." I gave the TJ eye-roll, naturally. Then I thought about that Brady Bunch episode, probably from around 1970, where Greg starts to "grow up" and "learn new 60s terms." He casually mentions to mom and dad that he was "rapping" with a "groovy chick," I think. After he leaves the room, we listen to Greg's bewildered parents as they comically review what they'd just heard. At one point, Carol says (and I can't believe this hasn't been sampled by a rapper), "I wonder if that's against the law...'rapping'."

So what have I learned? That the verb "to rap," meaning to talk to your suburban, white friends, was born, has grown up with, and may very well die with one generation. This guy at my office probably had the same experience as Greg did in the sixties. In the 70s, he "rapped" with other couples that he swung with. In the 80's, he "rapped" with his coke-sniffin' buddies. In the nineties, he "rapped" with his kids about not making the same mistakes he made. And today, well, you know, he's just "rappin'" about whatever.

Some terms cut across generations. "Cool" will probably always be at least pretty cool. Others might slip in and out of the lexicon. But some just don't make it out alive.

We'll be seeing it again soon...

[A random pic I took last summer that I didn't post at the time.]

I heard a disturbing line by Ben Stiller on a preview for his new museum movie. I searched it on the web and found the exact line in a review of the movie:

Night At The Museum is rollicking good fun, setting up the characters quickly and concisely before plunging poor Larry into the midst of his museum nightmare ("This is so not worth 11.50 an hour!")

Uh, hello? A little too close to Winston Zeddemore's "This job's definitely not worth eleven-five a year" from Ghostbusters. Don't ya think?

Actually, I read somewhere else that Ben is a huge fan of Ghostbusters. So it's probably a tribute. Okay, it's cool, then. Wow, I'm amazed, and I'm not easily amazed. How you can start a post with one kind of expectation and end up so completely different.

The Bash-o Prize (first place): Yanks Fan in Boston

hub's opening day
signs read: "we love daisuke"
manny asks, "who's that?"

Well, since it's a Yankee fan, we could've expected he didn't know that "Daisuke" is two syllables. Dice-K? Ring a bell? Oh, not paying attention til October, Yankee fan? I guess it wouldn't, then. (Again, note, the correct Japanese pronunciation could be way different, but we've been told "dice-kay," which is clearly two syllables.) Also, great job on the part about Manny not knowing who his teammates are. That's really funny and original and totally accurate. And apparently a hit with the judges! To me, this "haiku" is the perfect candidate for last place.

Then we see the second place haiku:

The Blue Jay Prize (second place): John

Matsuzaka hears
Sox fans on WEEI
Hari kari next

And our brainiac judges went crazy for this poem, which has NINE syllables instead of seven in line two! What the shit, people?

This contest should've been called "Repeat lame shit you've read online about Boston and the Red Sox in a haiku that contains the wrong amount of syllables."

Here's a shitty haiku for you:

Terrible job. Ter
rible job. Terrible job.
Terrible job. Ass.

In 1984, the "PG-13" rating was added to...the movie rating system. Before they chose "PG-13" there was another possible name for this new rating category. What was it? Clue: it was two initials.

Note: I remember hearing this from my friend, when I was eight years old, in the car on our way to see Ghostbusters in the theater. He also thought AfterMASH was called NewMASH, so he could've been full of crap. I can't find any mention of it on the web, either. So this could end up as a "pick any two letters" guessing game. But I'm okay with that. Also, there may have been a whole bunch of other options, but I only remember this one.

Clue, 1/6/07, 8:11 PM: The two letters rhyme with each other.

It's "Armageddon Week" on the History Channel, and it seems like it in New York. Nobody on the roads, nobody on the beach. (By road I mean road. By beach I mean sidewalk. By quoting Don Henley I risk losing readers. Myyyy mistake.)

Wow, I never use "myyyy mistake" on this blog, but I always do in real life. I have to change that. Much like I kept "terrible job" away from you, the person who doesn't know me in real life, for a while before thrusting it upon you, I will now start saying, I mean writing, "myyyy mistake." (Number of Ys may vary.)

Let's test it out. "Chan, terrible job leaving soap residue on the dishes. Oh, it was me? Myyyyyyyy mistake." Also, "yourrrr mistake" will sometimes be used: "Chan, terrible job letting our friend Jim make you a Dunbar fan when you came to this country. Yourrrr mistake." At least Jim's actually from the Bronx. Yet, oddly enough, he's a Celtics fan... Hissss mistake.

Gerald Ford is dead. He was president when I was born. And now the second prez of my lifetime, out of six, to die. To me, Ford will always be...well, Chevy Chase, to be honest.

It's weird how all my presidents relate to things in my life: Gerald Ford--named Gerry. Jimmy Carter--same name as my neighbor, Carter G, while he was in office. Ronald Reagan--I grew up steps from Regan Road. Bush--we had bushes in front of our house, as did Reagan Road. Clinton--we used to play mini-golf in Clinton, CT, when on vacation in Old Saybrook. Bush II--we cut down those original bushes and replaces them with smaller ones. According to this theory, the next president may well be named "Tire Playground."

"Say, Homer, do you like football?"

That's what it says. Read the article here. Or, I can sum it up for you: Hillenbrand to Angels. That guy's bound to put together a one-off monster year at some point.

Dial up the Wikipedia--it's official. The same hat appears on two different Seinfeld characters three seasons apart. Any boob knows that Brian Doyle-Murray, as the father of the bubble boy (The Bubble Boy, season 4, 10/7/92), wears a tan baseball hat that says "W 73." But then I noticed about a month ago that the man that Kramer high-fives after he struts down the street in his pimp outfit (The Wig Master, season 7, 4/4/96) seems to be wearing the same W 73 hat. That episode was on again tonight, and I confirmed it.

Maybe the bubble boy's dad, being a trucker who often passes through New York City, stopped there once, decided he'd had enough of the hat, and gave it to a thrift store, or left it on the street. Three years later it ended up in the hands of the dude who sits on the sidewalk waiting for dudes to walk by dressed as pimps and gets all excited and happy about it.

Double-ironically, right after I thought I spotted the W 73 hat in November, the Michael Richard incident happened, and one of the YouTube Seinfeld parody videos featured that very clip of Kramer high-fiving the guy--who was black. I tried to check for the W 73 in that video, but it was too hard to tell with the resolution being at YouTube level. (Hey, technology people, how about getting on that. We all want perfect quality video streaming on the web. Why can't you just make that happen? Is there a hold-up over at the Internet Factory or something?)

[This post was from Friday night, but I forgot to publish it for some reason. So here it is now. Update: This article claims this Randy trade talk was started by the man himself. (I like the "lowlight list" at the end.) Also, if you didn't hear, James Brown has climbed into that big hot tub in the sky...]

Was watching Conan, waiting for Nellie McKay to come on, and I noticed the MW7 was playing "Dirty Water" as they went to commercials. Thanks to my vast knowledge of how talk shows work, I realized they'd still be playing the song when they came back from those commercials. So I started recording. I give you, ladies and gentlemen, like, three seconds of "Dirty Water." Oh, and making for a full-on Red Sox theme, you'll see Jeffrey Lyons, movie critic and Sox fan, coincidentally, right before the song.

Labels: movies

Looks like the D-Backs want Ran D-Back from the mean streets of El Dunbarrio. I love this line from the article:

The Yankees may be willing to deal Johnson because of the depth they have in their rotation. Mike Mussina, Chien-Ming Wang, Andy Pettitte and Kei Igawa are projected starters, and they also have Carl Pavano -- who the team hopes is healthy after injury troubles the past two seasons -- and several young pitchers that could compete for a starting spot.

These mlb.com writers are a laugh riot. Since when does starting rotation "depth" mean your five-hole contains either Carl Pavano or a rookie? (While assuming another dude who's never pitched in the bigs is your #4.)

I also love how Randy's gone from hired-gun ace to a notch below Wang to trade-bait. I bet he's feeling good inside at this joyous time of year.