The Mets were given up for dead as recently as a month ago. It’s amazing, though, what can happen when Jose Reyes and Carlos Beltran start playing at their expected level. By whomping the Reds on Thursday, the Mets tied Philadelphia for first place in the east, and have become the second-most-likely team to make the NL playoffs.
Huh? Where does that stat come from, Nachoman? From Baseball Prospectus, of course… each day, they update the probability for each team to win its division, or to make the playoffs. As of Friday morning, the Mets have a 57% chance of winning the division, and a 69% chance of making the playoffs at all. That compares to the Phillies’ 35% probability of becoming division champion.
Why, though, if Philadelphia and New York are tied for first, should the Mets be favored so decisively in the division race? Based on their run differential, the Phillies should be four games up on the Mets – that and the Phillies’ stronger schedule to date should, in principle, mean the Phillies are a better team. On the other hand the Mets have been a bit unlucky, allowing more runs than would be otherwise expected from their opponents’ batting stats. The Phillies have been lucky not to have allowed more runs. And, the Mets players project as a stronger set to begin with.
What’s the upshot of all this analysis? If I were a gambling man, I would find a bookie in the Philadelphia area an take generous odds on the Mets to win the division.
It’s too bad I’m not a gambling man.
No complaining necessary
Thursday night, I watched and kept a detailed scorecard for the Mets-Reds game that took 3:43. The Mets scored 4 in the ninth, consummating their third comeback of the night, winning 10-8.
Oh, no, says my reader. Sounds like the Nachoman is going to tee off on the whine-mobile. No, actually not, says the Nachoman, who would never mix golf and automotive metaphors. While I was sad to see the Reds lose, the game was less painful than the box score indicates. To wit:
Sure, the game took an ungodly 3:43, and every member of both teams should do 60 situps for every minute the game took over 2:30. But I watched via tivo, allowing me to fast forward instantly through the pitching changes.
One might suggest that a 10-8 game was poorly pitched. Perhaps it was, a bit, especially by the Mets. Johann Santana gave up five runs in the 4th, in the process walking 8th place hitter David Ross. But most of the impetus for the five runs was good hitting, not bad pitching: Mr. Santana was not falling behind and grooving fastballs, yet the Reds still managed back-to-back homers and two big-time two-out hits to drive in three of the runs.
Similarly, Johnny Cueto did not pitch stupidly thorough most of the game. He made a few critical mistakes. In the 4th inning, a teeny patch of sun shone right on his face. He worked slowly, attempting to fight the sudden blindness, hoping it would go away. (Mr. Cueto had difficulty receiving the toss back from the catcher due to the sun.) Maybe we can blame the walk to Carlos Beltran on the sun, maybe not. The *big* sun-caused mistake came on a pitch to Carlos Delgado, when Mr. Cueto seemed at his most distracted. He hung a slider, which Mr. Delgado nearly deposited into the Ohio River. Mr. Cueto made one other costly mistake… after he waited through the Reds’ interminable offensive 4th inning, Johnny C couldn’t throw strikes to Brian Schneider, walking him on four pitches. That led, of course, to two runs. Boux.
The only truly bad pitching of the night came from Aaron Heilman, who, down by a run, gave up a two-out double (no biggie). An intentional walk put runners on 1st and 2nd, with David Ross at the plate. Problem was, Mr. Heilman walked Ross to load the bases. Oops. That ended Mr. Heilman’s night, but pinch hitter Javier Valentin deposited a double to right field, scoring all three runs and giving the Reds an ephemeral lead.
You are sure that I will here excoriate Francisco Cordero for blowing another save, this time letting the Mets score 4 runs in the 9th. His work cost the Reds 86% of a win: the Mets went from a 4% chance of winning when they were down by two to start the inning to a 90% win probability after they scored 4 runs on 6 hits. Those hits there are why I won’t totally beat up Mr. Cordero. He went right after the heart of the Mets order. A typical Reds pitcher of the last few years would walk two or more in such an inning. Sure, a gazillion dollar reliever like Mr. Cordero should not be giving up a game like this. But give the Mets a lot of credit. As the saying goes, championship teams find ways to win this type of game. Six straight hits off of a premier closer to cement a come-from-behind victory deserve praise.
Death news of the week:
The Cemetery for Cubs fans is now open on the North Side. Don’t laugh – as the article points out, MLB-themed coffins have been hot sellers. As folks’ team allegiance becomes as personally relevant as their church affiliation, this sort of “I’m a fan to and beyond the grave” statement will likely become ever more popular.
Minor league information: Louisville Bats
The AAA club of the Reds is the Louisville Bats, who play 100 miles southwest of Cincinnati at Louisville Slugger field. (Yes, the company who makes Louiville Slugger bats purchased the naming rights to the stadium.) During this all-star break, mascot Buddy Bat won the “UPS Mascot Home Run Derby.” Right now, before reading further, picture Buddy in your mind. What does he look like? Does his head stick out of a Louisville Slugger, or is his head actually the head of the Louisville Slugger? Are his feet at the knob end, or the thick end?
Um, neither. AP English reader and Woodberry professor Nate Ebel graded English exams at the Louisville convention center, and went to several Bats games. He reported to me that the Louisville Bats name refers to mammal bats, not baseball bats. Buddy Bat doesn’t slug baseballs, he eats mice![1]
And people complain that blogs are juvenile and prurient
Headline in the London Daily Mail: “Busted: M&S accused of levying tax on bigger breasts. Why are some Marks & Spencer bras of the same design more expensive above DD?” This from an old, established, print newspaper. Take that, Murray Chass.[2]
The New Gregorian Calendar
The Nachoman here proposes a simple but useful adjustment to the current Western calendar. The Gregorian calendar has been useful to mankind for centuries, of course, and I don’t mean to overthrow it entirely. However, said calendar was developed by feudal and agrarian societies without access to Directv. My proposed adjustment will drag this primitive calendar kicking and screaming into the 21st century.
My issue is not with the progression of months or days, which seem to work all right.[3] Rather, the timing of the year’s beginning makes no sense to me. Each year starts a week and a half or so after the winter solstice. Huh? Ridiculous. Forget about the fact that the timing of the new year causes irreparable economic harm.[4] “New Year’s Day” falls in the middle of FOUR major sports seasons, five if you count the English Premier League. Quick, who won the 2001 Super Bowl? The Ravens, or the Patriots? Well, the Ravens won Super Bowl XXXV, which was played in 2001. But the champions of the 2001 NFL season were the Pats, who won SB XXXVI, which was played in 2002! Aargh! I won’t even discuss the absurdity of college football (where the same anti-correlation of championship years with season years occurs, plus the “annual” Peach Bowl was played twice each in 1981, 1988, 1993, 1995, and 2004).
For the sports fan, right now – the all-star break – is the beginning and end of the yearly sports cycle. For example, this past Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are the only days all year in which no major sport holds a meaningful contest. (The WNBA doesn’t count.) Now, baseball starts up again, and becomes every more meaningful as the pennant race builds. Football training camps start in a couple of weeks, and before we know it, every sport in the universe will be playing. Champions will be determined regularly starting in October with baseball, January with college football, February the NFL, March college basketball, May the EPL and NHL, June the NBA and college baseball… and it will be the all-star break again.
So, my proposal for the New Gregorian Calendar is simply to begin the year at the all-star break. The all-star game itself will be played on New New Year’s day, which will justify Fox’s stupid all-star parade (which was actually LESS interesting than the Rose Parade). The year 2010 will begin on what otherwise would be called something like July 12, 2009.[5] Only then would the calendar actually reflect the cycle of the year as experienced by a sports fan.
Oh, Nachoman, you’re such a character
While I was bored during the all-star break, I checked out the sales of my books on Amazon. (Here! The Everything Kids Football Book and the Everything Kids Baseball Book! Buy multiple copies now! Please![6]) When I clicked on my name as a potential shortcut to the other books, I found that I was mentioned by the Olsen Twins. Really.
Okay, not really really. Greg Jacobs – not this Greg Jacobs, but a *fictional* Greg Jacobs – is a character in Switching Goals, a preteen romp in which two twin girls switch places in order to achieve their shallow social goals. The highlight of the book is on p. 56, when the Athletic Twin crows, “I have a date with Greg Jacobs!” The book is said to be written by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen; and if you believe they rather than their agent wrote it, then I’ll tell you the details about my date sometime.
ASG notes
1. Yes, I did watch the first nine innings of the all-star game, along with parts of the associated interminable pregame show. George Brett gave the AL a long pep talk. I didn’t listen. El Mole asked, how many of these guys are saying “What does he know about winning, he played for the Royals?” Sure, the Royals used to be a winning franchise back in the stone age, but does anyone outside of Kansas City under the age of 30 know that?
2. “Prison Break, premiering soon on Fox!!!!!”… how many times can they break out of that danged prison?
3. The game ended at 1:35 EDT, once again well past the time when the kiddies had gone off to bed. This complaint – that kids can’t watch when the game goes so late – is far more than a bleeding heart parent’s whine. Baseball, more than any other American sport, depends on history and nostalgia for so much of its appeal and profitability. Talk to anyone who didn’t grow up with the game, and he or she will describe baseball as a long, boring string of dirty-looking men in too-tight pants scratching themselves and spitting. People who do not watch baseball as kids do not like the game. Ever. That’s not as true for football or basketball. But...
Consider soccer. Americans can’t quite figure out the game’s attraction. Well, that’s primarily because they don’t have a shared history of the sport. To an American, a Manchester City vs. Manchester United Derby[7] has the same sporting appeal as a badmitten match between Yuma East and Yuma Central High School. Sure, we can recognize athletic rivalry in its many and varied forms, but the game itself leaves much to be desired. To truly appreciate such a soccer match, a fan has to have context. For those who care about the Manchester Darby, probably the whole family has rooted for the same team for decades; they hate the other team, possibly because great uncle Nigel got beaten up by hooligans back in ought four. Years are remembered as much by who won the league as by critical historical events. The players may change, but the uniforms, the grounds, the opponents, the experience of English soccer gets passed on from generation to generation. Lacking such many-layered context, Americans see merely a two-hour yawnfest of forwards acting like their legs fell off because a defender touched them.
Baseball works the same way. Baseball is, to the uninitiated, boring. Without a deep understanding of and connection to the game’s history, all that’s left is three hours of pitchers playing catch with a squatting guy.
In order to thrive, baseball MUST make current fans' kids into fans themselves. The connection to history begins with eight and nine year olds. But, these little folk sometimes can’t stay up even for the beginning of a postseason game! A game that starts at 9:00, finishing after midnight, simply can not be part of a kids’ evening, especially during the school year. Forget about parents granting special permission to stay up that late, kids likely are physically incapable of staying awake that long.
“Oh, but kids on the west coast can still watch,” say pundits. After all, part of the point of starting so late is so that west coast viewers will be home from work and school in time to watch. But, a game that runs 6:00 to 9:30 still eats up a huge chunk of a kids’ evening. And, the all-star game, like so many postseason games, ended extremely late even in the pacific time zone – 10:40! That’s past most kids’ bedtimes even out west.
“Think of the Children” might generally be the rallying cry of the vacuous busybody. However, in the case of baseball, I contend that “Think of the Children” ought to be the rallying cry of the commissioner’s office itself.
Elton John + Muppets = awesome
Elton John once appeared on the Muppet Show. I found the footage of him performing “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” backed by the Muppet Show Band[8], wearing a yellow jacket with green sequin designs, a black top hat with a piano keyboard on it, and green glasses with square lenses. “The muppets look more dignified than he does,” noted Burrito Girl.
Later in the show, Sir Hercules[9] appeared in a muppet swamp, behind a swamp-themed piano, to perform “Crocodile Rock.” This time Mr. Dwight wore a jewel-encrusted 1950s-style swim cap and enormous NBC-style peacock feathers. Once again, it was difficult to pick out who were the muppets and who was the guest star.
MLB.com contradicts itself
MLB.com headline #1: “First half full of surprises in 2008.”
MLB.com headline #2: “Hampton suffers setback in rehab start.”
Next week:
Huh? Where does that stat come from, Nachoman? From Baseball Prospectus, of course… each day, they update the probability for each team to win its division, or to make the playoffs. As of Friday morning, the Mets have a 57% chance of winning the division, and a 69% chance of making the playoffs at all. That compares to the Phillies’ 35% probability of becoming division champion.
Why, though, if Philadelphia and New York are tied for first, should the Mets be favored so decisively in the division race? Based on their run differential, the Phillies should be four games up on the Mets – that and the Phillies’ stronger schedule to date should, in principle, mean the Phillies are a better team. On the other hand the Mets have been a bit unlucky, allowing more runs than would be otherwise expected from their opponents’ batting stats. The Phillies have been lucky not to have allowed more runs. And, the Mets players project as a stronger set to begin with.
What’s the upshot of all this analysis? If I were a gambling man, I would find a bookie in the Philadelphia area an take generous odds on the Mets to win the division.
It’s too bad I’m not a gambling man.
No complaining necessary
Thursday night, I watched and kept a detailed scorecard for the Mets-Reds game that took 3:43. The Mets scored 4 in the ninth, consummating their third comeback of the night, winning 10-8.
Oh, no, says my reader. Sounds like the Nachoman is going to tee off on the whine-mobile. No, actually not, says the Nachoman, who would never mix golf and automotive metaphors. While I was sad to see the Reds lose, the game was less painful than the box score indicates. To wit:
Sure, the game took an ungodly 3:43, and every member of both teams should do 60 situps for every minute the game took over 2:30. But I watched via tivo, allowing me to fast forward instantly through the pitching changes.
One might suggest that a 10-8 game was poorly pitched. Perhaps it was, a bit, especially by the Mets. Johann Santana gave up five runs in the 4th, in the process walking 8th place hitter David Ross. But most of the impetus for the five runs was good hitting, not bad pitching: Mr. Santana was not falling behind and grooving fastballs, yet the Reds still managed back-to-back homers and two big-time two-out hits to drive in three of the runs.
Similarly, Johnny Cueto did not pitch stupidly thorough most of the game. He made a few critical mistakes. In the 4th inning, a teeny patch of sun shone right on his face. He worked slowly, attempting to fight the sudden blindness, hoping it would go away. (Mr. Cueto had difficulty receiving the toss back from the catcher due to the sun.) Maybe we can blame the walk to Carlos Beltran on the sun, maybe not. The *big* sun-caused mistake came on a pitch to Carlos Delgado, when Mr. Cueto seemed at his most distracted. He hung a slider, which Mr. Delgado nearly deposited into the Ohio River. Mr. Cueto made one other costly mistake… after he waited through the Reds’ interminable offensive 4th inning, Johnny C couldn’t throw strikes to Brian Schneider, walking him on four pitches. That led, of course, to two runs. Boux.
The only truly bad pitching of the night came from Aaron Heilman, who, down by a run, gave up a two-out double (no biggie). An intentional walk put runners on 1st and 2nd, with David Ross at the plate. Problem was, Mr. Heilman walked Ross to load the bases. Oops. That ended Mr. Heilman’s night, but pinch hitter Javier Valentin deposited a double to right field, scoring all three runs and giving the Reds an ephemeral lead.
You are sure that I will here excoriate Francisco Cordero for blowing another save, this time letting the Mets score 4 runs in the 9th. His work cost the Reds 86% of a win: the Mets went from a 4% chance of winning when they were down by two to start the inning to a 90% win probability after they scored 4 runs on 6 hits. Those hits there are why I won’t totally beat up Mr. Cordero. He went right after the heart of the Mets order. A typical Reds pitcher of the last few years would walk two or more in such an inning. Sure, a gazillion dollar reliever like Mr. Cordero should not be giving up a game like this. But give the Mets a lot of credit. As the saying goes, championship teams find ways to win this type of game. Six straight hits off of a premier closer to cement a come-from-behind victory deserve praise.
Death news of the week:
The Cemetery for Cubs fans is now open on the North Side. Don’t laugh – as the article points out, MLB-themed coffins have been hot sellers. As folks’ team allegiance becomes as personally relevant as their church affiliation, this sort of “I’m a fan to and beyond the grave” statement will likely become ever more popular.
Minor league information: Louisville Bats
The AAA club of the Reds is the Louisville Bats, who play 100 miles southwest of Cincinnati at Louisville Slugger field. (Yes, the company who makes Louiville Slugger bats purchased the naming rights to the stadium.) During this all-star break, mascot Buddy Bat won the “UPS Mascot Home Run Derby.” Right now, before reading further, picture Buddy in your mind. What does he look like? Does his head stick out of a Louisville Slugger, or is his head actually the head of the Louisville Slugger? Are his feet at the knob end, or the thick end?
Um, neither. AP English reader and Woodberry professor Nate Ebel graded English exams at the Louisville convention center, and went to several Bats games. He reported to me that the Louisville Bats name refers to mammal bats, not baseball bats. Buddy Bat doesn’t slug baseballs, he eats mice![1]
And people complain that blogs are juvenile and prurient
Headline in the London Daily Mail: “Busted: M&S accused of levying tax on bigger breasts. Why are some Marks & Spencer bras of the same design more expensive above DD?” This from an old, established, print newspaper. Take that, Murray Chass.[2]
The New Gregorian Calendar
The Nachoman here proposes a simple but useful adjustment to the current Western calendar. The Gregorian calendar has been useful to mankind for centuries, of course, and I don’t mean to overthrow it entirely. However, said calendar was developed by feudal and agrarian societies without access to Directv. My proposed adjustment will drag this primitive calendar kicking and screaming into the 21st century.
My issue is not with the progression of months or days, which seem to work all right.[3] Rather, the timing of the year’s beginning makes no sense to me. Each year starts a week and a half or so after the winter solstice. Huh? Ridiculous. Forget about the fact that the timing of the new year causes irreparable economic harm.[4] “New Year’s Day” falls in the middle of FOUR major sports seasons, five if you count the English Premier League. Quick, who won the 2001 Super Bowl? The Ravens, or the Patriots? Well, the Ravens won Super Bowl XXXV, which was played in 2001. But the champions of the 2001 NFL season were the Pats, who won SB XXXVI, which was played in 2002! Aargh! I won’t even discuss the absurdity of college football (where the same anti-correlation of championship years with season years occurs, plus the “annual” Peach Bowl was played twice each in 1981, 1988, 1993, 1995, and 2004).
For the sports fan, right now – the all-star break – is the beginning and end of the yearly sports cycle. For example, this past Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are the only days all year in which no major sport holds a meaningful contest. (The WNBA doesn’t count.) Now, baseball starts up again, and becomes every more meaningful as the pennant race builds. Football training camps start in a couple of weeks, and before we know it, every sport in the universe will be playing. Champions will be determined regularly starting in October with baseball, January with college football, February the NFL, March college basketball, May the EPL and NHL, June the NBA and college baseball… and it will be the all-star break again.
So, my proposal for the New Gregorian Calendar is simply to begin the year at the all-star break. The all-star game itself will be played on New New Year’s day, which will justify Fox’s stupid all-star parade (which was actually LESS interesting than the Rose Parade). The year 2010 will begin on what otherwise would be called something like July 12, 2009.[5] Only then would the calendar actually reflect the cycle of the year as experienced by a sports fan.
Oh, Nachoman, you’re such a character
While I was bored during the all-star break, I checked out the sales of my books on Amazon. (Here! The Everything Kids Football Book and the Everything Kids Baseball Book! Buy multiple copies now! Please![6]) When I clicked on my name as a potential shortcut to the other books, I found that I was mentioned by the Olsen Twins. Really.
Okay, not really really. Greg Jacobs – not this Greg Jacobs, but a *fictional* Greg Jacobs – is a character in Switching Goals, a preteen romp in which two twin girls switch places in order to achieve their shallow social goals. The highlight of the book is on p. 56, when the Athletic Twin crows, “I have a date with Greg Jacobs!” The book is said to be written by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen; and if you believe they rather than their agent wrote it, then I’ll tell you the details about my date sometime.
ASG notes
1. Yes, I did watch the first nine innings of the all-star game, along with parts of the associated interminable pregame show. George Brett gave the AL a long pep talk. I didn’t listen. El Mole asked, how many of these guys are saying “What does he know about winning, he played for the Royals?” Sure, the Royals used to be a winning franchise back in the stone age, but does anyone outside of Kansas City under the age of 30 know that?
2. “Prison Break, premiering soon on Fox!!!!!”… how many times can they break out of that danged prison?
3. The game ended at 1:35 EDT, once again well past the time when the kiddies had gone off to bed. This complaint – that kids can’t watch when the game goes so late – is far more than a bleeding heart parent’s whine. Baseball, more than any other American sport, depends on history and nostalgia for so much of its appeal and profitability. Talk to anyone who didn’t grow up with the game, and he or she will describe baseball as a long, boring string of dirty-looking men in too-tight pants scratching themselves and spitting. People who do not watch baseball as kids do not like the game. Ever. That’s not as true for football or basketball. But...
Consider soccer. Americans can’t quite figure out the game’s attraction. Well, that’s primarily because they don’t have a shared history of the sport. To an American, a Manchester City vs. Manchester United Derby[7] has the same sporting appeal as a badmitten match between Yuma East and Yuma Central High School. Sure, we can recognize athletic rivalry in its many and varied forms, but the game itself leaves much to be desired. To truly appreciate such a soccer match, a fan has to have context. For those who care about the Manchester Darby, probably the whole family has rooted for the same team for decades; they hate the other team, possibly because great uncle Nigel got beaten up by hooligans back in ought four. Years are remembered as much by who won the league as by critical historical events. The players may change, but the uniforms, the grounds, the opponents, the experience of English soccer gets passed on from generation to generation. Lacking such many-layered context, Americans see merely a two-hour yawnfest of forwards acting like their legs fell off because a defender touched them.
Baseball works the same way. Baseball is, to the uninitiated, boring. Without a deep understanding of and connection to the game’s history, all that’s left is three hours of pitchers playing catch with a squatting guy.
In order to thrive, baseball MUST make current fans' kids into fans themselves. The connection to history begins with eight and nine year olds. But, these little folk sometimes can’t stay up even for the beginning of a postseason game! A game that starts at 9:00, finishing after midnight, simply can not be part of a kids’ evening, especially during the school year. Forget about parents granting special permission to stay up that late, kids likely are physically incapable of staying awake that long.
“Oh, but kids on the west coast can still watch,” say pundits. After all, part of the point of starting so late is so that west coast viewers will be home from work and school in time to watch. But, a game that runs 6:00 to 9:30 still eats up a huge chunk of a kids’ evening. And, the all-star game, like so many postseason games, ended extremely late even in the pacific time zone – 10:40! That’s past most kids’ bedtimes even out west.
“Think of the Children” might generally be the rallying cry of the vacuous busybody. However, in the case of baseball, I contend that “Think of the Children” ought to be the rallying cry of the commissioner’s office itself.
Elton John + Muppets = awesome
Elton John once appeared on the Muppet Show. I found the footage of him performing “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” backed by the Muppet Show Band[8], wearing a yellow jacket with green sequin designs, a black top hat with a piano keyboard on it, and green glasses with square lenses. “The muppets look more dignified than he does,” noted Burrito Girl.
Later in the show, Sir Hercules[9] appeared in a muppet swamp, behind a swamp-themed piano, to perform “Crocodile Rock.” This time Mr. Dwight wore a jewel-encrusted 1950s-style swim cap and enormous NBC-style peacock feathers. Once again, it was difficult to pick out who were the muppets and who was the guest star.
MLB.com contradicts itself
MLB.com headline #1: “First half full of surprises in 2008.”
MLB.com headline #2: “Hampton suffers setback in rehab start.”
Next week:
Nachoman's column will be full of surprises if I can get Elton John to make a guest appearance.
[1] Or, he would, if he weren’t a dehydrating guy in a polyester and foam rubber costume. Sorry, Nate, for the inexpert use of metaphor.
[2] Mr. Chass is a longtime newspaper writer who just started a blog on which he states repeatedly how much he hates blogs and the people who write for them. No, I don’t think he’s aware of the irony.
[3] After all, February is the most depressing month of the year, and has the fewest days. Well done.
[4] I used to wait tables from mid-December to mid-January each winter. My tips would drop nearly in half after January 1 as the euphoria and generosity of people at holiday time turned into the depression and credit-card-debt of the new year.
[5] A side benefit would be enormously expanded employment opportunities for computer programmers, as “Y2K” issues would pale by comparison to the New Gregorian adjustment.
[6] You can also buy 5 Steps to a 5 AP Physics, but I imagine that this is not exactly the right audience to be pitching that one.
[7] For some reason, I believe the word is pronounced “darby” in this context.
[8] “Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem”
[9] According to wikipedia, Mr. John was born “Reginald Keith Dwight” and is now known as “Sir Elton Hercules John.”
[1] Or, he would, if he weren’t a dehydrating guy in a polyester and foam rubber costume. Sorry, Nate, for the inexpert use of metaphor.
[2] Mr. Chass is a longtime newspaper writer who just started a blog on which he states repeatedly how much he hates blogs and the people who write for them. No, I don’t think he’s aware of the irony.
[3] After all, February is the most depressing month of the year, and has the fewest days. Well done.
[4] I used to wait tables from mid-December to mid-January each winter. My tips would drop nearly in half after January 1 as the euphoria and generosity of people at holiday time turned into the depression and credit-card-debt of the new year.
[5] A side benefit would be enormously expanded employment opportunities for computer programmers, as “Y2K” issues would pale by comparison to the New Gregorian adjustment.
[6] You can also buy 5 Steps to a 5 AP Physics, but I imagine that this is not exactly the right audience to be pitching that one.
[7] For some reason, I believe the word is pronounced “darby” in this context.
[8] “Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem”
[9] According to wikipedia, Mr. John was born “Reginald Keith Dwight” and is now known as “Sir Elton Hercules John.”
2 comments:
Whatever else they do, I'm pretty sure bats don't eat mice. For one thing, I'm pretty sure mice outweigh them (except for the gigantic Asian flying foxes, which eat fruit anyway). Most of the bats you'd encounter in Louisville would eat flying insects, located through the bats' echolocation.
Yeah, well... you haven't seen the size of Buddy. :-)
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