What They're Up To Out There

HEY CBS SPORTSLINE .COM: NEED ANOTHER EDITOR?
"Analysis: When Lee [a pitcher] is locked in and his defense is playing well behind him, he can be one of the best hitters in the American League. Unfortunately, he can get unhinged rather easily sometimes and that is probably due to his still young age."

It seems like 27 has been young for decades now. At least.

(I mean, those Pilgrims kicked it in their 30's.)

AND, IT'S TIME I START CREDITING HIM
So, from News Of The Weird .com, Chuck Shepherd:

"Brian Blair is now a Republican county commissioner in Tampa, Fla., but before that was a professional wrestler for 20 years. He now says it wasn't the dropkicks, pile drivers or neck breakers that ended his career, but rather tripping over a tray of dirty dishes at a Carrabba's Italian Grill in Tampa in 2001, which he said injured his head, shoulder and knee, and his lawsuit is still pending. (His previous lawyers resigned in March.) Blair wrestled for four months after that injury, but said the matches were the less-strenuous "tag-team" contests. Also, hospital records show a blood-alcohol reading of 0.089 90 minutes after the incident, though Blair told the Tampa Tribune he only had a sip. [Tampa Tribune, 3-9-06]"

AND SOME WEEKS, HE'S GOT IT IN SPADES
Really, but here's two more excerpts:

"(2) According to the Hartwell (GA) Sun, state Senator Nancy Schaefer, speaking at an "issues day" event in February, said one reason illegal immigrants find work in the United States was because '50 million' abortions have caused a U.S. labor shortage: "We could have used those people."

And,

"Ms. Zulima Farber became the New Jersey attorney general in January even though her public record shows 13 speeding tickets, three license suspensions, and two bench warrants (for failure to appear in court regarding the tickets). Farber acknowledged 'embarrassment' at the record and joked that it might take 'psychoanalysis' to learn why she did those things. (However, a psychoanalyst interviewed by the New York Daily News rejected the suggestion. Farber, said the doctor, just 'needs a spanking.')"

Come to think of it, I have to go.

It seems I, too, need a spanking.

MR

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"We are near awakening when we dream that we dream."
-Novalis

Ozzie Guillen Quote For April

Guillen acknowledges [World Baseball Classic winner] Japan as world champion, since "they're the last one to win."

"But now," he says, "the Japanese people think they're good. Nah, they're not that good. Sorry."

"The [WBC] win was by the team that was prepared best. Japan and Cuba were better prepared than anyone else. They had more time to practice. The team was together a long time and the Cuban team knew it was going to play in the World Classic. But those two teams, they're not that good. They have maybe a couple players who are OK, but they play 162 games at this level, they might win 20 games.

"Ozzie talking shit again, huh?" [Yes, Ozzie said this.] "But that's the truth. I know a little bit about this game. They think they're good. They're great, they play good baseball, fundamental baseball. They play great for one week, two weeks. But if they come over here we'll kick their ass.

"They play 162 games here in any division, they'll finish last. I don't want Fidel to get cocky about this shit, either. They're not that good."

I can't understand it: how can anyone not like Ozzie Guillen?

SEE DONKEYS WEIGH THEIR OPTIONS

CATAPULT

Did you see this? We're going to ask a million people who live in the US to leave and never come back.

Did you get that? America.

Okay: I grant you, it's not exactly dukes and earls leaving.

It's the tired. The poor. Huddled masses. The like.

The New York Times reported it. The masses asked to scram quietly are part of the Republican-backed version of an immigration bill currently being quarreled by the quarrum.

Among other suggestions in the document: about three million would have to leave the country, and get no guarantees of citizenship -- if they make it back in at all. They DO get the benefit, however, of serving in the Temporary Worker Program for six years.

The good news there, if there is any, is certainly not the indentured servitude of a disposable workforce -- if you're the workforce, that is. No, but it does seem likely that the Republicans pandering to their own huddled masses will successfully inable a Democrat to preside over a stable economy in the next presidential term -- assuming, of course, they find one who can win.

Beyond that, I can hardly convey, as a Californian, how devastating, not to mention racist, this could very well turn out to be -- and therefore likely is at heart. "Must speak English," if we're to learn from past experience, is likely a handy method for closing people off from their rights.

And for that, what of the economy? Without these people and their cute little American dreams, we'd be hung by our hamstrings. I suggest this: we look at it as a bad blip in the investment map, mark off ten percent perfect defecit within certain markets and raise minimum wage, give them an education, and absorb them into our community.

I mean, you fucks. It takes one generation, and you've got the next NASA team, Harvard guys, whatever. Do you not realize that? THEY COME FROM EVERYWHERE! You'll beat you're fucking Chinese or your Iranians or whoever it is we're supposed to be worried about next.

I was picturing young Republican aides applauding each other happily as I read the Times piece; it reprinted a two-paragraph quote from future candidate McCain, who jumped into the dividing aisle and pleaded that his fellow Senators might all get along for the good of America.

Y'ever feel like a Dylan song?

* * *

Oh -- and Democrats, I'd like to give the NYT full credit because this is a direct quote, straight from the bottom of the page:

Democrats "said they were still weighing their options."

MR

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"Now gather 'round people, wherever ye roam
And admit that the waters around you have grown..."
-Bob Dylan

Get Manly, Effa's Hot Franks

CATAPULT THE PROGOGANDA

SPRT
An A-Rod update since my last post: after a spate of waffling that made William Jefferson Clinton look like Kennesaw Mountain Landis, Alex Rodriguez (Dominican, maybe American, none of the above, red-blooded American, in chronological order) has now finished his masterpiece by blasting the press for making him look indecisive.

Nice.

Meanwhile, reliable kook (and M. Rowicky doppelganger) Ozzie Guillen skewers A-Rod for the spectacle, moaning, "He's not a Dominican!"

Actually, he is.

Well, no he isn't.

Well, he is. Sort of. I mean, no, he's an American. I mean.....

BHOF
Thought of the day:

The late Effa Manley, co-owner of the Negro League's Newark Eagles along with her husband Abe, has just become the first woman elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame. One of Manley's contributions to her players and the greater Civil Rights movement: an Anti-Lynching day at the ballpark.

They sure don't do promos like they used to.

MR

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"The sports page records people's accomplishments, the front page nothing but their failures."
-Earl Warren

The Unseen Hand of Freedom

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SPRT
Why do they call A-Rod "A-Fraud?"

I don't know. But I'm pretty close to convinced.

I don't mean that his talent is somehow fraudulent, that he's juicing or something. I give him full credit for being one of the very best of our generation, quite possibly of all time by the time he's done. And you get there only with gobs of talent and a tireless work ethic. No exceptions.

But he's got that same sickly, plasticky sheen Tiger Woods has -- the one that says, "This is all I do; I'm a social outcast at heart, but deep down I know I'm better than you, so leave me alone and listen to my smug quote." Creepy.

When he won this year's AL MVP, for instance, he was asked about his reaction upon finding out. He tried to play it humble, and missed. He talked about what a good year David Ortiz had, and said he thought Ortiz had a chance to win even though he was a DH.

Of course, true humility is not saying "I know I could have lost." Closer to the real thing would have been something like: "Well, I'm honored to be in this kind of company, and other guys had great years." I know I might not have won. Indeed.

But, for something a little more concrete: hey, you ever feel like strings are being pulled right before your eyes, but you're just not tall enough to see the puppetmaster?

A-Rod declares he'll play for the Dominican Republic in the upcoming World Baseball Classic (whose eligibility rules are, for this year, anyway, far looser still than Hitler's were for being Jewish), then backtracks and says he'd consider the US. Then he says that to please everyone, he's just not going to play at all. Now his latest move is to declare for the US team, although the media apprently missed his phrasing ("IF I played, it WOULD be for the United States.")

Brought to you by, the people who made Carlos Delgado stand up. (See the METS section of my CONTINUED STOVE RANTINGS entry.)

POL
Flipped back through a journal, back to some time before the Abramoff deals came down and everyone got all moral. My note under BLOG reads,

4 of 5 GOP voters are being duped. (The fifth one is in on it.)

I think this is so true. Think about the implications for a minute. Think, too, about books, if you're familiar, like "What's the Matter With Kansas." 4 out of 5 simply have the wool pulled over their eyes. The fifth is protecting his own interests, advertently or in-, by doing the wool-pulling.

Ancillary: The Democratic populous is hardly perfect (see previous rants on the government-subsidized status quo, for starters) but what they really want more frequently overlaps with what their representatives really want.

POL
Recent news: Osama bin Laden's voice -- confirmed to be his, apparently -- is heard publicly (on Al Jazeera) for the first time in over a year. He says that another attack on the United States is imminent.

In unrelated news, the Hussein trial is underway, and a huge circus.

In other unrelated news, George W. Bush was re-elected based on fear. (Look, the poll numbers bear it out. Or, if it's more up your alley, so do bar chatter and letters to the editor, all of which read, "You're sitting there crying about civil liberties, but where will you be when they blow up a big city?" You can almost hear the whimpering.)

In other, even less-related news, the Bush family continues to be tight with the bin Ladens.

Oh? Don't believe me? Hey, they've been in business together for 30 years. In fact, it's public record that George H.W. Bush was with one of the bin Ladens when the planes hit the towers.

Yes, really. (Mutual business associates include the unnamed Saudi nationals who were secretly spirited out of the country in the days following, when no other planes were allowed off the ground. If you don't know about this, I suggest you stop reading this journal (no one likes a blog) and either pick up Howard Zinn's "A People's History Of the United States" or go bury your head back in the sand.)

Of course, the bin Ladens say they no longer support Osama.

Of also course, we haven't exactly caught him yet (or spent much effort looking for him), either.

Let's go, people. You did it when you were five: connect the dots.

MR

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"He stared at ruin. Ruin stared straight back.
He thought they were old friends."
-John Berryman

2006: Reds 2, Giants 0

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SPRT
Wow, how about that one.

Cincinnati Reds supersub Ryan Freel (good name for a supersub, no?) was arrested this weekend on an alcohol-related charge at a Tampa pool hall. According to reports, police were summoned at 3:35 a.m. concerning a minor fight, and subsequently booked Freel on a misdemeanor disorderly intoxication charge. Freel, 29, was also cited for alcohol-related charges on opening night last season.

Freel's always been one of those guys, like a David Eckstein, who really maxes out his modest potential. This comes as a disappointment, and, frankly, is shocking to me personally.

The really shocking part is that Freel can be wasted in a bar at half past three a.m. in Tampa, but here in the great City By The Bay they boot you out as soon as the clock touches quarter to two.

SPRT
In other news, the Reds came to terms with former Giant Rich Aurelia, who holds this unofficial Major League record: his name is not only a word, but the bulk of an entire conversation.

(-Oh, really?
-Yeah!)

MR

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"If men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament."
-Florynce R. Kennedy

Witchy Women, and the Men Who Love Them

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THTR
So, just to share with you a little anecdote:

The other day I'm at this New Year's party -- filled with government-types and local dignitaries, actually, plus two six foot-odd queens in red pantent leather drag, God bless this town -- and I fall into a conversation with another gay gentleman and his partner about my time in Atlanta, and whether it would be very oppressive for people like them to live there.

To sum up, I agree that the thinking man must write off glacier-sized chunks of the local sapien fauna to survive in comfort; still, I point out, not only is Atlanta, next to San Francisco, the gayest city in the nation -- really -- but it's also got scads of commerce, culture, traffic, and the rest of it, not to mention bundles of Mexicans, Mexicants, Ethiopes, Chinamen and -women, and Original Hippies, all of which amount to five times the population we have in our precious worldly and diverse Don't Call It Frisco.

None of this being the point of today's entry, but just FYI. At this point, feeling I've talked enough about myself and the things I think I know, I ask the fellow what he does. He gets a little queeny on me, unabashedly, in describing his practice as a voice coach and sometime opera singer, preferring, he insists, on sharing the stage with no one.

The last thing he worked on, he says, was a highly successful musical called Wiccan. You know, he says, about the lives of witches.

A musical about Wiccan? Vegetarian lesbians being pulled through the air on second-rate suspension wires, straddling broomsticks and yodeling about sisterhood with the Earth and the ritual burning of Lady Gillettes?

You remember, the musical, Wiccan, about the witches... I decline to suppress a chuckle, and press him about the production.

No, no, he corrects me. "WICKED." From the Wizard of Oz.

Oh. Yeah, I saw that one.

2K6
Have a happy new year yourself. Here's hoping it's less interesting (read: shitty) than 2005.

POL
Abramaoff cops twice (DC; FLA): Good start. Word is they cut him a deal (I was repulsed at first, then realized any jail time at all is much worse than he's prepared for; he got eight years for the DC bit) so they could get to as many as twenty congressmen.

Good thing we got all those Republicans into power, to keep the scope of the federal government from getting out of hand.

Oh, and if you're reading this, federal government: thanks for stopping by again. Help yourself to some candy on the way out, and say hello to your lovely wife for me.

MR

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This, I submit, is the freedom of a real education..: You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't."
-David Foster Wallace

All Elbows On Deck

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Anyone see Kobe Bryant's comments on the Mike Miller play? Seen the replay?

Miller drives the lane; Kobe sticks his elbow straight into the guy's throat. Apparently, Kobe was mad that he'd been elbowed earlier. ("You don't elbow Kobe," Kobe's aura was quoted as saying. "You don't touch Kobe.")

Kobe's mouth said Kobe was "very surprised. Shocked, actually. Very, very surprised" that Bryant was suspended two whole games... and not a single rape was even alleged.

Laker coach Phil Jackson, on the other hand, thought Kobe's postgame comments "contributed to [the suspension] somewhat." The condensed version of Bryant's opinionation: "Somebody comes down the lane, you've got to hit him [actual quote].”

For those who haven't seen the tape... cut to tape.

Of course, Albert Belle got a similarly weak sentence for what was admittedly a far worse foul, blatantly slamming his forearm into the face of a helpless Fernando Viña during a potential double play some years back. Belle claimed equal shock at the league's decidedly mild punishment.

For the record, Bryant is appealing the suspension. Rumors that Bryant's teammates will miss his 40 points per night have been greatly exaggerated.

MR

Happy New the fuck Year. And as Snoop Dogg would say, "Don't drink and drizzle."

QWTOFDY
"Every nation has the government it deserves."
-Joseph de Maistre

Moron the NSA

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NSA
So let me see if I have this right. The president authorizes the NSA and maybe his two slutty daughters to listen in to whatever phone conversations they please, provided they can pretend they thought one of the people talking was in Canada. This goes on all throughout this made up illegal war of his (what? uh, oops? did you hear me? RIDICULOUSLY ILLEGAL war) and then someone reveals that he's bypassed the secret court set up for just such spying by introducing his own double-secret spying.

So the Department of Justice is called in. They're on the case. The Department of Justice is now investigating... what wascally little wabbit leaked the double secret.

Not investigating the secret court -- which has been operating, in secret, for decades. Not investigating the secret decision to secretly bypass the secret court. (For the record, official rationale is that wiretapping citizens' phone calls, though admittedly unconstitutional, was implicitly okayed when Congress authorized "war powers." I don't know about you, but to me that's a mighty leap.)

If we're wondering how governments work, let's look at the reason the Department of Justice -- of all the Departments -- would choose to investigate this legal morass from the outside in.

Indulge a digression.

Know who I voted for in the Democratic primaries in 2004? Not young idealist lawyer John Edwards. Not the effete, well-to-do John Kerry; Kerry makes Mike Dunleavy, Jr. look like the Trojan Man.

Not Dean. Not Wesley, Dick, or Arthur C. Clark.

And not because I wanted this guy in the White House; I didn't.

I voted for Dennis Kucinich.

Why? Yes, to send a message; and, policy-wise, for a number of reasons. Chief among them: he advocates the creation of a Department of Peace.

Silly idea? That's right. Useless, hackneyed, completely without hope of fruition?

Precisely.

Just to get people thinking a little on exactly what it is that a goverment does.

Why do govenments, as we so clearly understand, support war, and not peace? Why would the DOJ ignore an admittedly unconstitutional practice in order to hunt down its whistle-blower? Why does everyone have the sense that Republicans and Democrats are actually so, so similar?

I want you to do a little actual thinking here. Instead of listening to me rant on, like you're so fond of, and telling yourself you're thinking just by reading my opinions and News of the Weird crib sheets.

So this is an email-style scrolldown situation. Sit there, at your stupid corporate desk, pretending to work. Lean back in your ergonomically correct chair, and take a moment to consider:

There are (I learned in a real estate course) two kinds of people: natural people and legal people. Know the difference?

A natural person is, naturally, a person.

A legal person is a corporation.

Much like the one you work for. Legally: a person.

Now, if a corporation can be a person -- with all the rights of a person, and presumably many strengths and flaws comparable to those found in humans -- then the analagy (remember, not a made-up one, but one that's all over our laws, economy, culture, et cetera) could be extended to other, similar bodies.

Like a government.

A government can be thought of -- should be, I would argue -- as a living, breathing organism with loves and fears and very specific motives.

Before the big question, a corrollary question. What is "the American dream?"

I'm not interested in nailing down the precise definition here and now, but let's agree on something like "moving up." Or, more cogently, giving your kids opportunities you didn't have, no matter the percieved obstacles to that improvement.

Okay. So bear that in mind.

Now, here comes the big question. Think about it before scrolling.

Ready?

What is a government's primary objective?
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A government's primary objective is the same as any natural or legal person: to stay alive.

Therefore, a government's primary objective is, at all costs, to maintain the status quo.

Erego, the American government will do anything it can to stamp out the American dream.

...Sweet dreams, Pumpernickel.

MR

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"Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country."
-John F. Kennedy

Where Your Dick Was When You Needed It

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NSA
Good stuff, good stuff. All this wiretapping business ("eavesdropping" is so Emily Bronte) is tearing up (slithering through) Washington, and it's a good thing these people take vacations, because none of it was making any sense.

Here's the gist as I understand it: Congress, who with respect to presidential popularity has noticed the wind don't blow the way it used to, is up in arms because President Bush has been secretly listening in to telephone conversations without so much as a warrant for over four years.

Of course, members of Congress admit that they were informed of this illegal practice, and agree with Bush's assertions that he gave them scads of regular updates. They are now so appalled because... mmm, because some civilian with a typewriter found out. So now elected officials are sputtering things like "Of course, I knew, but they wouldn't really tell me, so how could I really know?" These people couldn't investigate their shoes.

And if you thought perhaps Bush would get off free here: far from it. Even Colin Powell -- who maintains a good chunk of respect from this corner for occassionally bucking the party line, declining to run for office himself, and then quitting when he felt things were out of hand -- says the presidential mandate to forego warrants is peachy, and should "of course" continue.

Bush's own justification has been: we could have gotten those warrants easily.

Great. And, the sixty-four thousand dollar question, sing along with me here, folks: So why didn't you?

(Another nice justification: there are, as far as we know, only about five hundred of these wiretaps going on at any one time. So it's not like they're doing all of us: just some of us, all the time.)

Enough said about that particular news item. Today a related one emerges, and we should have seen this one coming. It seems the National Security Agency also used illegal wiretaps to secure arrests and convictions of actual bad guys. You might figure this is the best justification yet for ignoring laws so completely: results.

You figure wrong.

Because of the NSA's brazen policy, several dozen defendants with ties to al Qaeda are mounting legitimate legal challenges in Florida, Ohio (do these states sound familiar?), Virginia, and Oregon. Meaning we could be faced with thirty or forty al Qaedets walking the streets olly olly oxenfree, thanks to behavior that destroys our civil liberties for the sake of catching terrorists.

Nice work, you fat, white fucks.

POL
And elsewhere on today's front page: prosecutors cut a deal with former high-level ENRON accountant Richard A. Causey, which they hope brings them closer to convictions (or settlements) against ENRON moguls Jeffrey Skilling and Ken Lay.

Well, hey, we should be glad they're going after these guys. After all, if you've been reading your Noam Chomsky or that biting Harold Pinter Nobel speech that's been going around, you know that criminals with names like... well, like Bush, have been wreaking economic devastation and all-out war against innocent nations for decades, and won't see the inside of a jail cell unless it's on Martha Stuart: Behind the Music.

But, as a tax-paying Californian, I have to point out that, in this particular case, the biggest criminals are not only those defendants but Vice President Dick Cheney, who knew about at least some of their massive deception and nevertheless subsidized their anal rape of the California economy -- oh, and then invited them over to help shape energy policy for the nation.

For some reason, Cheney continues to refuse to release any information related to the formation of that national energy policy. We all know about Lay and the rest of them coming over with punch and fruitcake. I think the holdup is that a former Texaco exec's pre-teen daughter bled all over the Lincoln Bedroom carpet, and "unckie Dick" wants to protect her family from undue embarrassment.

MR

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"I can't keep looking at loneliness
And tryin' to call it freedom..."
-Bill Withers

Continued Stove Rantings

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SPRT
Okay. Time for a little reality check, or at least a check-in, for some of these Major League teams.

NEW YORK METS:
"Mets" has replaced "Ba ba ba ba ba bird" as the word on everyone's smackers this offseason. And the Mets' "addition by addition" formula has brought some impressive talent: Carlos Delgado, Paul Lo Duca, and Billy Wagner join an already formidable cast that includes the dangerous Jose Reyes, David Wright, and Carlos Beltran, plus the legendary Pedro Martinez and Tom Glavine. But let's examine this for a minute. Can you simply buy your way into the game?

1997 Marlins: yes. Mets, Blue Jays, Rangers, Orioles, Yankees of recent years: no.

The Mets have gained an awful lot. They're also losing some decent production from Mikes Piazza, Cameron, and Jacobs. Piazza alone, even in his decrepit state, means enough offense to offset Lo Duca on both sides of the ball. That means Delgado is left to make up for Cameron and Jacobs -- no problemo for the big man, but that's not a swing of several players like it seems.

(It's also a genuine shame that Delgado, who politely declined to join teammates for God Bless America in Florida, quickly capuitulated to his New York bosses. America stands for freedom of beliefs -- provided you're in a tiny market where no one will notice that your beliefs differ from their own.)

The Mets also add pint-sized gunslinger Billy Wagner, a significant upgrade over Blatent Pooper, who signed a bloated contract to go back to Saint Lou. All these are good moves. But are they enough?

The Mets were by no means a contender last year, meaning they have more than a single step to make if they wish to sniff playoffs. They are surely counting on a rebirth from Beltran, who fizzled as a free agent a year ago. But it's likely they're also assuming that oldsters Delgado, Glavine, and Martinez will continue to be every bit as good as they have been.

Unlikely.

Delgado is both a very solid man and a very consistent slugger. But if his numbers go anywhere in '06, it will be down. While Florida's no picnic to hit in, a trip to New York (especially for a guy whose previous biggest market was, well, Canadian) often means a karate chop off of final totals. Glavine, who's been terrific as he nears 40, also looked to be finished 3-4 years ago. If we're talking old lefties, look how quickly the end came for former teammate Al Leiter. And Pedro performed a minor miracle last year, but still has a "damaged goods" shoulder and is already sweating a toe problem this offseason. And if Pedro can't perform, look out.

The Mets are also carrying their share of dead weight -- namely Kazuo Matsui, their flop Japanese import at second base, and Kris Benson, best known for a .500 record, a major contract, and a Playboy wife who loves telling the Mets brass how to run their business. Friendly memo to Queens: it ain't over yet.

SAN DIEGO PADRES:
Here's an interesting case study. Trading for Chan Ho Park because you couldn't get Sidney Ponson is a lot like crashing the Titanic into an iceberg because you couldn't find a rocky cliff. (Pure speculation, but it says here the departed Phil Nevin, whiney and aged, is known in that clubhouse to be a juicer, perhaps along with Ryan Klesko, whose power and speed bursts on arrival have been replaced by similar geriatricity.)

The Padres decided that Brian Giles is their man, since his loss of power is made up for by strong character and a ballpark that threatens any batter's mental health. They also jettisoned former Cal star X. Nady, who has good potential to replace that power, but refuses to make the same adjustments Pedro Feliz refuses to make -- the difference being that the Giants are counting on Feliz, in that they compounded their error with their faith in Edgardo Alfonso. (If the Giants are planning on going into the season with those two players, plus a Sweeney-Neikro platoon, they're as good as dead.)

The Pads have also lost a lot, and know it. Ramon Hernandez and Rudy Seañez have departed for greener green, Mark Loretta was inexplicably donated to a drooling Red Sox club -- does San Diego, a year removed from calling him their MVP, know something we don't? -- and the miserable Sean Burroughs has finally been tossed with last week's cabbage. In their place, the Padres have picked up serviceable role players like Geoff Blum and Doug Mirabelli, and confounding failures like Dewon Brazelton, Bobby Hill, and Park.

But the Padres also got a lot today for Adam Eaton, whose big payday a year from now they were disinclined to sponsor. The Padres got the very talented Chris Young to replace Eaton in the rotation. Young, a sinkerballer who received a multi-year deal to keep him from playing power forward for the Sacramento Kings, showed excellent poise last year before tiring late, and may outperform Eaton, given Eaton's new digs, this summer. And while they also sacrificed a top pick from the low level minors and a decent short man in Otsuka, they once again have the underrated Scott Linebrink setting up Trevor Hoffman, and got two good, cheap, Major League-ready hitting prospects in Terrmel Sledge (.267-16-70 in 435 career at-bats) and former number one pick Adrian Gonzalez (.338-18-65 in a half-season in Triple-A.)

With their budgetary constraints, the Pads are once again looking at contention only if the division itself remains below the water line. But despite a crop of shamefully bad roster-fillers, the Padres have shown some guile in bringing in the new blood and successfully coaxing Giles and Hoffman to accept less money and a pre-owned longboard apiece.

TORONTO BLUE JAYS:
This could be trouble. Nine years for four relatively unproven initials (A. J. Burnett and B. J. Ryan). Behind Doc Holliday, one of the game's very best, a shoddy rotation. And, despite the Lyle Overbay move, a DH-1B-3B scenario that still includes both Canadian native Cory Koskie and Eric "Dead Weight" Hinske.

Hey, if they don't compete with Boston and New York in the AL East, at least they should outdistance Baltimore in the Big Spenders division.

CHICAGO CUBS:
Memo to the men in blue: those who sign Jacque Jones deserve what they get. Now go spend $20-odd million on two middle relievers. Oh wait, you've done that.

OAKLAND A'S:
What? Turn around and trade Bradley? No way. There's only so many places Bradley could be picked to weather his own storms, and Oakland is Number One. Find a solution for Swisher (who shows promise, but also struggled) Johnson (who could come back to Earth) Kielty (hot for a while, but a very average player) and Payton (ditto.) With Zito, Bradley, the talented Antonio Perez, and possibly Frank Thomas on board, let's stand pat and give the ball to our horses. We're cheap enough right now.

(Note: horses are not only the youthful veteran Zito, but the nasty duo of Rich Harden and Dan Haren -- plus the wise, round Joe Blanton. Blanton, particularly, is deceptively good; why not thoroughly confuse opponents by setting your rotation according to differing styles, meaning:

Harden, Zito, Haren, Blanton, Loaiza.

In the Giants' case: Schmidt, Lowry, Morris, Cain, Henessey/etc.)

THE THE ANGELS ANGELS OF ANAHEIM:
Brilliant. This team sports the least impressive-looking Cy Young winner in recent history (Bartolo Colon), is built around a star who hit .050 in the Championship Series (Vlad Guerrero), and features an artful balance of beaten-up over-the-hills (Steve Finley, Darren Erstad, Orlando Cabrera -- an offensive downgrade from David Eckstein -- and Garrett Anderson, whose OPS was lower than Casey Blake's) and never-wuzzes (Dallas McPherson and Casey Kotchman.) All this just goes to show you why Chone Figgins should be getting a lot of MVP votes.

But if you see hope in the future of the young Angels infield, forget the smooth stroke of Kotchman or the powerful uppercut of McPherson. The Angels Single-A Rancho Cucamonga Quakes team featured a middle-infield duo that did this:

Shortstop: .321-43-115 (.307, 14 HR in 114 Arizona Fall League at-bats)
Second Base: .384-12-47 (.342-7-42 in Double-A; 25 total steals; .388, .612 SLG in 116 AFL at-bats)

Boy, are these guys good. The shortstop is Brandon Wood, one of the game's best prospects, and his pal is Howie Kendrick. The game is also about playing smoothly together -- see Angles '02, Marlins '03, or for negative examples, the above New York Mets comparisons -- so Wood and Kendrick may already have an advantage when they hit the Show.

LAAofA may have some major flaws, but everyone else in that division is working from behind the 8-ball -- Texas can't keep the ball in the park, the A's can't get the wallet out of the pocket, and Seattle is simply trying to be less bad -- so that means the immovable Sciocsia again has his finger nearest the button.

LA DODGERS:

At least they got rid of the numbers guy. You know, they guy who figured the clubhouse doesn't matter, then watched the game's best record turn into Banshee Night on the WWE. Now the new new sherriff in town, Ned Coletti (the fifth GM in 10 years for the franchise with two managers, Alston and Lasorda, over a span of 44) has seen fit to replace Jim Tracy with Grady Little, plus reshape the entire infield, just for starters. Results?

Mixed. Little deserved another shot after the way he was skewered in Boston, but Tracy's steady leadership will be missed, and Little doesn't appear to have much that Tracy didn't give them already. Of course, if you ask Billy Beane, former mentor to exiled GM Paul DePodesta, the manager's nameplate might as well read "Mickey Mouse," so let's move on.

Here's a team who already had a Gold Glove shortstop who may be a .300 hitter (Cesar Izturis), and replaced him with a mouthy, free-swinging miscast leadoff man with a handful of DUI's (Rafael Furcal.) Furcal's arm is a pleasure to see, and he can still run, and perhaps outhit the nascent Izturis. Bill Mueller may not add much to fantasy sheets, particularly in Chavez, but should at least provide the stability they lacked. Kent did well to last this long at second base, and seemed ready to move to first upon Izturis' return from injury -- until the Dodgers played the famous "big star with question marks signed to play out of position" card, with Nomar Garciaparra.

Nomar should be solid, if not the world-beater he once was as a younger man in a smaller yard. But with Furcal unleashing bebes from short and Kent's famously modest range next to Nomar, the Dodgers may have invited their old problem: inconsistent defense. The recently signed Kenny Lofton still has enough in the tank to contribute on offense -- though he should drop 30 points just on the move from Philly to L.A. -- but has lost range on defense and is terrible going back on the ball, meaning a lot of doubles and triples in the spacious Chavez outfield. In left, the Dodgers seem unable to decide about Jason Werth, whose production and defense is likely on a par with the rest of the league, including whomever they get to replace him.

With Gagne still recovering and his various apprentices pulling Nuke LaLoosh imitations, the bullpen is a mess, so with their average staff, the Dodgers mimick San Diego as contenders only in the weakest of fields. This division remains there for the taking.

AND
And if the A's get the Big Hurt, the Giants had better find a way to talk Texas into Alfonzeliz and a prospect for Brad Wilkerson.

AND
Another load of deep brown poo on the House of White, as BushCo moves to strike Cuba from the fledgling World Baseball Classic. With Piazza joining the Italian squad, A-Fraud bowing to the suits by bowing out completely, and Bonds waddling through a pre-Spring comeback, the Classic is already enough of a joke without one of its greatest entrants being strongarmed back to the Caribbean.

Of course, according to Senator Barbara Boxer and others, Bush has just become the first sitting president to admit in broad daylight to an impeachable offense, so if we can't get Cuba in, or Karl Rove out, there may still be better entertainment out of Washinton this summer than watching Charpee Selig hand out kickbacks to potential Nats buyers.

AND
Why don't I listen to more country music?

Country singer Kenny Chesney, recently divorced by actress Renee Zellweger, says the split has caused him immense pain. The event was so traumatic, says Chesney, that it was "like opening the door to your house and having someone come in and take your big-screen TV off the wall during the big game, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Wow.

AND
AND, while it's true that 30,000 pieces of mail being delivered to the IRS was spilled into San Francisco Bay this autumn when their truck was hit on the San Mateo Bridge, YOU can't prove I was anywhere in the area.

MR

QWTOFDY
"The Contras are the moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers."
-Ronald Reagan

Suburban Alabama Stove Trickle

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SPRT
So, what do you know. The rich get richer, and the smart get smarter.

Milton Bradley to Oakland: a perfect fit. Now watch Paul DePodesta, tuning in on streaming video from his laptop, scratching his head wondering why Bradley's problems are so quickly forigven and forgotten. Helps you don't build a team on Kent, Weaver, and Drew. Meanwhile, Oakland keeps Zito and the rest of the stable, adds Loaiza (I guess if Beane signs him for three years and 21, he must be worth it... which also makes Morris worth 3 and 27) and loses nothing.

In a similar story, the White Sox managed to get the bunificent Jim Thome (if it's not a word, it is now) for the pedestrian Aaron Rowand, and now have added a potentially deadly starter -- think Freddy Garcia with a better strikeout rate -- in Javier Vazquez, and all they've lost from the Major League roster was an aging El Duque. El Duque is the Robert Horry of baseball: if you can carry him through an entire regular season, he'll help you in the playoffs. But baseball doesn't get sixteen playoff teams like the NBA.

Vazquez, as a veteran who'd been traded in the middle of a multi-year contract, had the right to demand a trade from Arizona, and did so. He said he wanted to get closer to his home in Puerto Rico, which is a suburb of Chicago. (Scott Eyre, citing a similar desire to be close to his family in Florida, also signed in Chicago. Chicago, AL?)

And in other news, I actually read on ESPN.com that Julian Tavarez is expected to get a four-year offer. Heck, before the Burnett signing, the last pitcher to sign for more than four years was... Chan Ho Park. So let's keep the hothead middle relief guys down to two years, and if he makes it without Ponsoning, re-up him.

FLM
The talented Michele Yeoh (Crouching Tiger) co-stars in a film adaptation of the book Memoirs of a Geisha. If you know one thing about Yeoh, know this: her husband's name is Dickson Poon.

Fantastic.

MR

QWTOFDY
"The struggle against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting."
-Milan Kundera

Porky Rat

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RAT
New Dehli -- India, for those not keeping track... it's the place where that guy lives who sounds like Apu and helps you make your holiday travel reservations -- has 97 rat catchers on the government payroll. Since 1994, these rat catchers have caught as many rats as my beloved cat Margaret: none. The only difference is, I didn't pay Margaret 97 times fourteen rupees an hour, or whatever the hell they're getting.

They have a hundred ratless stooges, and we, we have Mike Brown, fashion God.

Us 1, India 0.

RAT2
Now Brown has entered the private sector disaster business, and while cynical critics and critical cynics (long-haired hippie sympathizers, all) have suggested that the move is like Exxon pulling a few oil tankers up to a forest fire and offering to help, it says here the idea is a good one. I mean, wherever Brown goes, disaster is probably not far behind.

Now, bored with what's left of the Brown story, some media outlets are focusing on Louisana Governor Kathleen Blanco, whose media people also prepped her on, for one, how to dress in front of the cameras during hurricane coverage. There's a big difference here, of course, and those wondering my opinion on the ridiculous SFPD video scandal can tune in here as well.

The Blanco story is simply a case of everyday behind-the-scenes posturing, which may be tacky but is a necessary corrollary to her job as Important Politician, finally exposed to daylight. There's nothing really wrong with her process -- or did you expect her to walk out of the governmental mansion and up to the podium without bothering to change from her pajamas? -- it just looks bad to us, in the wake of other, real fiascos. (Brown, judging from his emails, was clearly obsessed, plus revealed himself as a complete boob, whereas Blanco's boobs make up only a small percentage of her overall bodyweight.)

In the case of the SFPD vids, like the Niners vids before them, yeah, it's harmful, it's wrong, but the chief error here was allowing the public to see them. We know that cops, like football teams, like politicians, soldiers, strippers, and other narrow segments of the population, are necessarily wired a certain way, or else would not have become what they are. The group dynamic, of course, exaccerbates the conditions in question: imagine a prisoner, for instance, who, through injustice or hard luck, finds himself facing a long sentence among criminals despite an altruistic nature. How do you suppose he might be affected by his new playmates?

In short, I have to ask people to get over it. Then I have to go do something else.

SPRT
One thing about Alfonso Soriano: he's AVERAGED a 30-30 season over the last four years. For a second baseman, that's close to Oscar Robertson averaging a triple-double.

PITH
Nothing pithy to end my entry with today. So, how about this: fuck off.

PS
Oh yeah, I got it! Some skydiving pregnant lady had a parachute malfunction and hit the pavement face-first at fifty miles an hour.

Sweet action!

MR

QWTOFDY
"I'll die young, but it's like kissing God."
-Lenny Bruce (on drugs)

Solid Plastic Wood Comb

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SPRT
Nice job, Alfonso Soriano. Show those suits who's boss. If you're spoiled million dollar ass can't hack it in the outfield now that an actual Major League (read: National League) team has traded for you, just cross your arms and say, "Yeah, José Vidro's an All Star over there. That's you guys' problem. You're not the boss of me."

Back to reality (oh, there goes gravity) where the Nationals have in fact commited three players and about ten million dollars to be the boss of him. Move to the stupid outfield. Do your stupid job.

Sabean: good going so far. Do what it takes to go that third year on Matt Morris (or Millwood, whichever.) Now offer DC's Jim Bowden Pedro Feliz, Brad Hennessey, and two young cow paddies for the Brad Wilkerson Left Handed First Baseman Sweepstakes consolation prize: Vidro.

BLOG
Got eight comments, or about eight more than normal (this means you, Cheesedick) on my "It Ain't Much" post a few days back. Here's two of them; the rest were similar.

brain wave said...
Hi Martin K. Rowicky, taking a little time today to see what plastic comb will send me to that is interesting. It Ain't Much, But It's All I've Got Left looks interesting and is a great read. Will also try plastic comb in my e-travels. Have a super day!

3.12.05


solid wood said...
Hi Martin K. Rowicky, taking a little time today to see what solid wood will send me to that is interesting. It Ain't Much, But It's All I've Got Left looks interesting and is a great read. Will also try solid wood in my e-travels. Have a super day!

3.12.05

...What the fuck is going on here? People are being taken in for millions of dollars a day by these, uh, e-travelers? Jesus. Flush your computer. Eat a tree.

MR

QWTOFDY
"Life's short and hard
Like a bodybuilding elf
So save the planet
And kill yourself!"
-The Bloodhound Gang

Pure Wind

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Hello. I'm Johnny Cash.

LIT
I'm here today simply because I haven't checked in in a while, and while the hundred-odd deaths from the crash of a planeload of journalists into an Iranian apartment building would be news enough for some, this reporter (snigger) has the willpower to let it spiral down the commode of history.

Just following the lead of my government. (The Reagan Revolution was based around small government. Right? Worked almost as well as... well, as Communism.)

So given that the newsmakers refuse to make real news -- at least until Terrell Owens buys McNabb one of those exploding cigars for Christmas -- I'll risk the ire of the copyright police and reprint a little of what I've been reading of late.

So, this is from a George Orwell essay -- if you're not familiar with Orwell's frighteningly familiar fiction, just take a careful look around you -- entitled "Why I Write." (Readers hoping to gain similar insight into this author's motives can go sit on the history pot.)

Orwell, writing in 1946, declares:

"What I have most wanted to do throughout the past ten years is to make political writing into an art. My starting point is always a feeling of partisanship, a sense of injustice." [Note: while "partisan" has become an explicitly dirty word these days, the book's front cover predicts that phenomenon by addressing its source, declaring, "Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind."]

To continue: "When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, 'I am going to produce a work of art.' I write it because these is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing." Or as hardscrabble African American writer James Baldwin penned, "Every novel is a protest novel."

Orwell even reprints a poem he wrote in the mid-30's, purportedly about his own career crisis. The following stanza emerges:

It is forbidden to dream again;
We maim our joys or hide them;
Horses are made of chromium steel
And little fat men shall ride them.

That sounds familiar too. The little fat men, in, one presumes, their little fat hats, are disticntly political figures. That segues into another interesting line from the essay, which states, "The opinion that art should have nothing to do with politics is itself a political attitude." For those who wonder, again, why I get bogged down in political nattering.

Or, perhaps, a better explanation: Orwell lays out "four great motives for writing" by any author, and lists the first as "Sheer egoism." (The others, in order, are: "aesthetic enthusiasm," "historical impulse," and "political purpose.") "All writers," Orwell confides, "are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery." On this he does not say more.

He does confess, "I have not written a novel for seven years, but I hope to write another fairly soon. It is bound to be a failure, every book is a failure..."

I guess if I picked this up hoping to encourage my own writing "habit," perhaps I should have turned to the "For Dummies" series for a tad more ass-patting. But, despite what my high school basketball coach claimed, I've always preferred blunt-force honesty to ass-patting.

Or as the great man puts it, "I knew that I had a facility with words and a power of facing unpleasant facts, and I felt that this created a sort of private world in which I could get my own back for my failure in everyday life."

Quite right, Memory, quite right.

SPRT
Yes. Yes!! Brian Sabean once again proves his mettle. The Giants just traded LaTroy Hawkins -- a hard-throwing,weak-spirited righthander with good numbers -- for Steve Kline, a veteran lefty with a pretty decent history. This is unquestionably good.

Ditto the Tim Worrell signing, which we could only do at two years and $4 million because he ducked out on much of last year to sort out a psychological problem. Worrell is smart, a workhorse, and a guy who, completely opposite of Hawkins, stays comfortable in tough situations, and can therefore close games.

In Kline, the Giants got the closest approximation of a replacement for lefty horse Scott Eyre, who parlayed a fantastic season -- some heaven-blessed sportswriter even gave Erye a tenth-place vote in the MVP balloting -- into an eight-figure deal with the Cubs.

Kline, despite numbers not as consistently stingy as Hawkins', is tough on righties, just as Eyre was, and should make for a solid compliment to Worrell, so a healthy Armando Benitez can go back to blowing games in the ninth.

MR

QWTOFDY
"I dreamed I dwelt in marble halls,
And woke to find it true..."
-George Orwell

It Ain't Much, But It's All I've Got Left

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FLM
"Hello. I'm Johnny Cash."

Okay, you caught me: I'm not Johnny Cash. Doesn't mean I can't get drunk on whiskey, pretend his death made me want to finally drop my steel drivin' hammer, and walk around the house alone, saying somberly, "Hello, I'm Johnny Cash."

That's about what watching Walk The Line will do for you. It'll make you wish that you were the man in black, even though Johnny himself clearly wanted to shed his skin at least half the time.

The flick has its flaws. Cash was a broad-shouldered country boy, not a cleft-lipped waif. But supposedly Cash himself had a hand in choosing Joaquin Phoenix to play him, and the actor brings genuine momentum and confusion to the role, along with a talent for lip-synching that allows us to make the leap of faith as much as can be expected (although every time Joaquin so much as touches a guitar, some girl's head in the audience mysteriously blocks our view.)

Overall, the film never quite lives up to the expectations you built when you saw the preview with Joaquin/Johnny pointing his guitar "bang!" like a gun on the Folsom Prison stage. And, because your early country and western stars only had so many paths they could travel, the plot reads like a knockoff of last year's Ray: hard country work, dead brother, stardom, pills, flashbacks, acceptance, resurrection.

But, along with a performance you never thought Reece Witherspoon could pull off, Walk The Line provides one thing no other film will.

It makes you walk around in your undies at one in the morning, clear your throat, and confess to your cat,

"Hello. I'm Johnny Cash."

SPRT
Okay, thank you, I know the Niners are terrible. That seemed to be the point, finally, of their game this week: to prove that, "on any given Sunday," the local squad can hang with a division leader -- or cave to a cellar dweller. But their latest collapse had the following upshots:

1) Jeremy Newberry has finally been told to go home and get fixed, meaning he'll get a couple of pieces of dried-out kitchen sponge surgically inserted between his knee bone and his other knee bone, as well as all his various shoulder bones, all of which have been smashed around and rearranged to rub on each other as much as possible.
1-A) Newberry's absence means that Eric Heitman shuffles over to center, leaving rookie draftee David Baas to enter the starting lineup at guard. With Adam Snyder and Justin Smiley performing reasonably well, Kwame Harris and poor coaching are now the only excuses for the Niners' miserable running game and atrocious pass protection.

2) Alex Smith finally gets to step in for Ken Dorsey. Between Dorsey and Smith, there's a good quarteback to be had: take Dorsey's calm leadership and check-down skills, and add Smith's arm and legs. Until that surgical graft is possible, we'll just have to take it on faith that Smith lacks only experience on his road to leadership.

In the meantime, the leftover quarterback -- the one with Smith's panicky glare and fumblitis and Dorsey's ridiculous lack of physical talent -- is now the worst player in history.

MR

QWTOFDY
"Show my head to the people; it is worth seeing."
-Last words of Georges Jacques Danton

You Could Look It Up

The name of NL closer Billy Wagner's agent is Bean Stringfellow.

A Little Hot Stove Spittle

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SPRT
I guess I was wrong about Matt Morris. While teams line up to throw money at A.J. Burnett (49-50 career), Morris (101-62) is quietly fielding a modest three-year offer from a single National League team (a few AL teams are said to also be interested.) We all know Burnett's stuff is near tops in the game, not counting Seattle Superfreak Felix Hernandez. But I don't see Burnett going 52-12 on his new team to catch up to Morris.

In short: Matt Morris's beard -- which in football would only cost him fifteen yards, for unsportsmanlike conduct -- is now costing him millions of dollars.

Other MLB bargains to watch for:

Okay, at $24 million over the next two years, there's no way Javy Vazquez is a bargain... but he's officially on the block, just like he wanted. After a tale-of-two-halves 2004 with the Yankees, Vazquez was puzzlingly inconsistent again last year, mixing in a "gem" or two with a "bombed," and finishing 11-15, 4.42. But his peripheral numbers (a hit an inning and a 4-to-1 strikeout to walk ratio) remain strong, except for his homers (35) and won-lost record, both of which can largely be explained by looking at where he was pitching. Two hundred-plus innings six years running -- you can't imagine how highly teams value a number like that -- for a guy with command and strikeout ability.

Elsewhere on the rumor mill:

Kevin Mench for Corey Patterson: a good deal for both teams.

Milton Bradley to be non-tendered: another reason the Dodgers have no idea. It was a bad idea to bring him in, given the nutbags they already had -- and it's a worse one to let him go. Someone with a good clubhouse who can weather his tantrums -- say, the Braves -- is going to get a very good all-around player for cheap.

The Rockies say they want José Mesa to close for them: Oh, good Lord.

MR

QWTOFDY
"Why is it that nobody understands me, but everybody likes me?"
-Albert Einstein

Gorilla Batch

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FOOD
I spoil you.

But, the fine Ms. Brita Rosenheim (no, not Jewish) has been accepted into Food Appreciator School For The Italian and the Future Mrs. Italian, with a concentration in Food Appreciation, and to honor her we reprint four of Martin's secret Guerilla Bachelor recipe successes.

Now remember, I was off in Buttass, France when I did this installment (oh yes, there shall be more, for I have eaten well tonight! Those cookbook writer imbeciles wouldn't know a creole sauce if it crawddidled their gonads) so if you don't recognize the ingredients or aren't interested in the dish, skip on to the next. These were meant to be entertaining as well as a possible guide, so don't send me the bill for your stomach pump, and try not to reflect on why someone might have not only time to cook for himself from scratch, but time to write it all down after.

MR

QWTOFDY
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

-Pablo Neruda

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

STOLEN FROM THE MANUSCRIPT of the GUERILLA BACHELOR

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

RECIPE ONE: Fried Mixed Spinach Pasta Thing With Some Egg Or Not

INGREDIENTS:

1 pkg “Original schwäbische Maultaschen” (four pieces) *(it’s this big spinach filled pasta, like a ‘roided ravioli – if you don’t happen to live on the French-German border, be creative – use spinach ravioli. I’m not your frickin’ ma.)

1 sweet yellow pepper (key ingredient!)

1/2 white / yellow onion

2 cloves garlic

Salt, pepper, cayenne spice to taste (not much cayenne required); basil/etc. optional


INSTRUCTIONS:

Boil some water. Chop the veggies while you wait. Boil the weird pasta things for about five minutes. Then you cut them into small bite size pieces, and fry them in some olive oil with the other stuff.

EXTRA RECIPE, maybe better than the first: make enough for leftovers, add two or three eggs, even a little parmesan or regular cheese; eat for breakfast.





RECIPE TWO: Baked German Noodlen Thing, Alsacian Style** (**will work also for Schpatzle; I don’t know what the original Noodlen thing was, I already threw out the package. Schpatzle is also great and is made, so I’m told, from a simple mix of flour, an egg or two, a pinch of salt, a pot of boiling water. In what amounts exactly is, sadly, a guarded secret. So mix carefully: the wrong mixture can produce a voluble explosive.)


INGREDIENTS:

1 pkg of these very thick pasta things, like large gnocchi but I think they were just pasta. They’re designed to be fried, and they stay soft on the inside.

One whole onion…

…And some garlic. As always.

Some light bbq or other spices; salt and pepper

1-2 Potatoes I imagine (you’re on your own here, I didn’t have any – ditto mushrooms)

Grated Emmental or commensurate cheese (Swiss / Cheddar mix would be good)

Sliced gouda or jack

2 eggs, optional

1-2 pieces rye bread

Bit of olive oil in the pan I’d say


INSTRUCTIONS:

You fry up the shits like you’re supposed to, with the garlic and perhaps the onions. Takes up to 10 min. Crumble the rye bread into homemade breadcrumbs. This goes great. Grate the Emmental / Swiss if not done already. Presumably you boil the potatoes? and chop.
Once the shit is fried, add some more onion and mix together everything but the eggs and sliced cheese in a deep baking pan. Flatten or top off the surface. Then lay the slices of cheese on top, and crack the eggs on top of that.
Bake all at about 175º C for 15-20 minutes and it’ll come out perfect. If you’re reading in American, well, water freezes at 0º C = 32º F, and boils at 100º C = 212º F. (Seems like their system’s a lot smarter, non?) That’s all you need to know; you took algebra.
(Okay, since my own mom can’t do that one, a big fat hint: ºF = ºC x 1.8 + 32. That’s all I’m saying. All temperatures approximate anyway.)





RECIPE: CHICKEN PARM

INGREDIENTS:

Some chickens, preferably dead. Veals work too. Ya heard?

Parmesan

Other cheese, sliced – I’m using shredded emmental with sliced gouda again

1 can tomato sauce, kind you like (with parm I suppose – mine’s arrabiata)

1 onion and maybe 3-4 garlics… duh

The 2 slices rye bread

An egg

Bit o’ flour

Bit o’ olive oil and vinegar, too; optional; ditto hot sauce (just a pinch!)

Bit o’ milk

Spices: basil, rosemary, cayenne, salt, pepper, do you notice I didn’t exactly go wild on the spice rack?


INSTRUCTIONS:

Preheat to maybe 200 Celcius.
Beat the chickens soundly to tenderize them. (Okay, actually this is just for fun. But if they bawk, or moo, you’ve got problems.) Do the two pieces of rye bread along with the garlic and onions, finely chopped, and what spices you like, for the homemade breadcrumbs. Add some flour to make it stick to the birds (don’t forget the killing, plucking, filleting – or most housecats will do this cheaper than you’d think) – perhaps 1/3 part flour to 1 part crumbled bread.
Do the eggs, milk, and optional hot sauce / oil and vin in a little scramble. Dip birds (makes about 3) into eggies and swish around a lot, then roll in breadcrumbs until both sides completely doused. Stick bottom sides up on a cheap ceramic plate because you don’t have a baking pan.
Let bake for maybe 15 minutes. Then flip, add tons of parm and tomato sauce, topped by sliced (and perhaps shredded) cheese. Then let bake some more – roughly forever, so far. **Reader should note, cut into the chicks periodically to see they’re getting cooked. Author assumes no legal responsibility for following this recipe blindly. That is to say, they’re still cooking now, and if I keel over mid-curveball Sunday from Salmonella, consider deleting this item from the record.
(Editor’s note II: no way, José. Make the whole thing just like I told you. Takes a good 30-40 minutes though. Gives you time to learn a new lick on guitar, or to write this. I’d say an even 400º F.) Remember, chicken parm’s hard to screw up, and makes good eatin’s day after. Just make sure the chickens die good, and make it as sloppy as possible.
And I suppose you should first fry the breadcrumbs to a crisp, or sit around and let them stale a couple of days, or something. Hell, the loaf was starting to mold as it was. Anyway, what do I know, I’m just the author.
PS – And did you know it takes rotten bananas for banana bread? Which I’ve usually got on hand; if only I knew the rest of the recipe. Actually I still wouldn’t make it. We’re on meals here.

Serve with Johnny Walker Red Label, neat, water back. Or a choice local red, if you actually have a god damned corkscrew on hand.




RECIPE: Delicious Salad I.

This salad does not take a genius.

INGREDIENTS / INSTRUCTIONS:

Lettuce; I use iceberg but you could do butter, spinach probably, whatever you like. Just remember to wash it – it keeps for a week out here but open it up and it’s absolutely filthy with black grit (where do they grow these things, in the ground?)
Avocado. Half should do. Sliced close.
Fry two egg whites, with some salt and pepper. You’ll thank me later.
Some sliced cucumber.
Onion. What would it be without onion.
Chopped carrot. If that’s your thing. Or shredded, if you can’t decide.
Touch o’ grated cheese. Something exotic but not too.
Olive oil and vinegar: I like it near even but I know most prefer a 3:2 in favor of the oil.

Congratulations.

What I Learned In Gym Class

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SPRT
You know, there's a telling statistic for most any game. Tonight's Phoenix - Golden State game it was this: the Suns went plus-twelve on assists to turnovers, and the Warriors minus-five. You know those two teams, and you look at that, and you can see the whole game in your mind.

The high school football game I covered today for a local second-banana outfit is told more like this: the visitors won the first half 24-0, and lost the second only 23-0.

I love the language -- both the lingo and the numbers -- that springs from these ungeekly endeavors. I still say, if you show me the right guy's numbers, and we're talking baseball here, I can tell you how old he is, where he's from, righty or lefty: basically pick him out of a lineup.

So, for posterity: favorite old-school players, no particular order.

Dwight Gooden
Will Clark
Andres Big Cat Galarraga
Jack Morris
Andre the Hawk Dawson
Eric Davis

...Eric Davis, this dude was incredible. We're talking about a man who stole 50 bases in a season, who scored 120 runs, knocked in 100, went 30-30... but NEVER reached as many as five hundred at-bats. An awesome fielder, and a bat so quick he had to jerk off for two tenths of a second to kill time. Imagine going to an L.A. high school that had to play against him and Darryl Strawberry.

It's late. I'm putting on porn and passing out.

MR

QWTOFDY
"I expect that Woman will be the last thing civilized by Man."
-George Meredith

The Oh, Really? Factor

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TV
Bill O'Reilly has a good idea. The conservative talk show host whose innovative on-air ideas have included flooding the United Nations Building, "and I wouldn't have rescued them," now says that, since San Francisco has voted not to allow military recruiters to buy a place in local schools, the city should be bombed off the map.

"Fine. You want to be your own country?" asks O'Reilly. "Go right ahead. And if al Qaeda comes in... and blows you up, we're not going to do anything about it... You want to blow up the Coit Tower? Go ahead."

I think this is a fine notion. I've long been for starting my own country anyway, although mine was going to be called The Sandwich Country. Since I already live here, this will save me the trouble.

After all, what strikes you as a better target for terrorists, Coit Tower or Times Square?

Of course, O'Reilly's supporters are, one imagines, the type of citizens whose idea of a local landmark is the Ten Commandments obelisk on the courthouse lawn, or perhaps the '79 Camaro on cinder blocks down the road a piece.

But I'm all for it. Let's get all the hippies, the grungies, the radicals, the peaceniks, the beatniks, the artists, and the anarchists on one side of the wall. We'll put O'Reilly safely on the other side, along with Tom DeLay, Bill Frist, Dick Cheney, Rupert Murdoch, and notables from the Wall Street Journal, Halliburton (oops, I've already said Dick Cheney), and Exxon.

Then we tell both the patchouli smokers and the gun toters to drive as many SUV's and wave as many American flags as they please.

We'll see who gets hit first.

POL
The Cheney-Haliburton point still rankles, and I want to address it. Tell me if this strikes you as a conflict of interest.

Halliburton, sufficiently described as "a very large corporation," is one of the companies who has profitted the most from 9/11 and the mess in Iraq, which ARE related... now. I'm compelled to mention that when a company of this magnitude pulls in the kind of contracts they do, safety and workmanship have been known to give way to a ruthless bottom-line mentality.

If this is already too much for you, please reach for your remote and turn back to O'Reilly at this time.

Now, because there are only so many companies of this size, they can often cut corners and get away with it. If a dollar bill falls under my car seat, I reach for it... but when Halliburton's shoddy work results in the US owing Iraq over $200 million to redo it, the causes and effects are lost in red tape.

Oh, and remember when Halliburton charged us almost the same figure for feeding American troops and civilians? Yeah, they didn't do that; they simply pocketed it until an investigation uncovered the theft.

Some of these are no-bid contracts. Clearly the government either has no alternative to Halliburton at all -- and San Francisco alone is home to one, a massive conglomerate called Bechtel -- or Halliburton curries some major favor in a certain white house.

Perhaps this will clarify: every year Richard Cheney, who is our Vice President, draws a bigger salary from Halliburton than he does from the United States.

Sound like a conflict of interest at all? Well, Halliburton's people are very clear on this. You see, they've taken out a policy that insures Cheney will continue to get money even if they fail to draw a profit, or go under altogether. The logic is, that means he has no stake in keeping them afloat.

Therefore he is completely unbiased. Like the Supreme Court judge, who shall remain nameless, sharing a duck blind with other people who -- because I can't remember who it was -- shall also remain nameless, even though one was hearing a criminal case against the other. Antonin Scalia, the judge who shall remain nameless, insisted this was not improper because... well, there's no way it's not improper, so the reason doesn't matter; you just have to say something, anything.

These are the patriots. These are the people you should be inviting to your yoga class.

These are the people that will have major airports named after them.

I'm looking at you, National.

Will José Guillen and Livan "Fat Ass" Hernandez soon play for the Washington Cheneys?

Ooommmmmmmm.......

MR

QWTOFDY
"Every man is his own doctor of divinity, in the last resort."
-Robert Louis Stevenson

One For The Gipper

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POL
Vindication! Californians follow the dictates of obscure blogger Martin Rowicky and vote 'No' on anything chadlike in the vicinity.

Good and bad news follows this manna. We're dealing with the mind of the Governor here. And it's tricky going.

At least he figured out the gist: "It was the law of supply and demand," he concluded. "There was plenty of supply of initiatives, but not the demand."

That about sums it up, unless we're to suppose that 0-for-8 is sheer coincidence. The bad news came when some well-meaning reporter asked if he -- Arnold, Governor Schwarzenegger -- would do anything differently. He replied:

"If I was to make another Terminator movie, I would tell Terminator to travel back in time to tell Arnold not to have another special election."

Oh.

Remember Robin Williams' line, something about Reagan really believing he was in a movie?

Now, to show you who stands where, after what amounts to a Democratic landslide the tone in Sacramento is said to be civil and calm. A freakin' miracle.

There have, naturally, been a few calls for the Governator to aplogize for his misguided deeds. Believe it or not, I'm fine without the apology.

Of course, I do want my $45 million back.

SPRT
May: Rafael Palmeiro tests positive for Stanizolol, a steroid that's only used for exactly what you think it's used for.

All summer: Palmeiro is allowed to appeal the finding before it's disclosed to the public; he appeals but presents no compelling evidence.

August: We're told he's juicing. It leaks that Stanizolol was the substance, making it open-and-shut. Palmeiro begs the public to wait for his side of the story.

September: Palmeiro suggests the findings are due to tainted vitamins supplied by Orioles teammate Miguel Tejada. A confused Tejada replies, "Water fucky say?" Palmeiro, thought two months earlier to be a Hall Of Famer, is instructed by one of the most inept (or, least ept) franchises in pro sports not to bother coming back.

October: Playoffs. White Sox win World Series.

November: Palmeiro admits to testing positive for Stanizolol.

So who says athletes aren't role models? I'm heading off right now to phone Eagles coach Andy Reid on the Super-Secret Red Line. If he doesn't let T.O. back, with a raise, I'm going to hold my breath until I turn blue.

If that doesn't work, I can always apologize.

PS
Want an actual, compelling reason to watch the Niners? Center Jeremy Newberry has played the entire season with no cartilege in his knee, meaning he's bone-on-bone in there every play against the three hundred pounders. Now he's got a separated left shoulder -- and a separated right shoulder, to match.

Newberry does concede he may need some time off later in the season. But not now, during the playoff crush.

MR

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"Man is so perfectible and corruptible he can become a fool through good sense."
-Georg C. Lichtenberg

Stay Off The BQE, Salim Ahmed

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POL
So, the highest court in the land bucks the administration -- again, where were these people, three, four, and, ESPECIALLY, five years ago? -- by agreeing to hear from, of all people, Osama bin Laden's driver, Salim Ahmed Hamdan, on possible governmental human rights violations.

The decision to take the case at all is groundbreaking, and already tramples the administration's endgame goals. On the other hand, in the fine print, an odd twist: the Supremes will only hear evidence pertaining to those being held at Gitmo and elsewhere around the globe who have been CHARGED with crimes.

That makes nine. Out of an estimated five hundred.

Chew on that.

POL
And if the 9/11 report, the OJ trial, or my roommate's parking ticket protests are any indication, this case should drag on long enough for Bush to appoint and confirm the deciding vote himself.

Democracy: the worst system of government ever put into practice... with the exception of all the other ones. (See: Capitalism.)

SPRT
Great, now everybody's going to want to know what you think about Terrell Owens. In a word, good fucking riddance. Vindication! It's never felt so good to be a Niners fan.

Except when they were, you know, not the worst team in the league.

SPRT
DEAR COACH NOLAN,

Please, do not start Mr. Dorsey on his tender ankle this weekend. Mr. Dorsey, while a very nice guy, is perhaps the worst quarterback since Jim Druckenmiller. And he can't tow a pickup with a rope around his waist like Drunkenkiller could.

You want rope? Start the cowboy. Good story, good body, minimum of fuckups.

Coincidence?: Here it is the halfway point of the season, and the number of quarterbacks on the Niners roster who have thrown a touchdown pass this season is EXACTLY THE SAME as the number of gerbils Richard Gere admits to having shoved up his ass.

SPRT
Another question you'd rather not field: the NBA's new dress code.

Yes, the code is racist at heart. But more importantly, dissing a poor, gang-infused audience to court the Personal Seat Liscense crowd will not boost merchandise sales like league bigwigs expect.

And, racism or no, the bottom line is once again the bottom line.

Perhaps they need to pound the global market even harder. Line of the week: Andrei Kirilenko, Utah, yesterday: 20 points, 8 boards, 5 assists, 7 blocks. If Mehmet Okur (31 points) is for real, this team is a point guard away from being very tough.

Sleeper of the week: Everybody's saying this, but Texas TJ Ford, Michael Redd, and the Milwaukee Bucks.

Snoozer of the week: You're the Hawks. You go into the season's first halftime up ten, then yield 75 second half points and get blown out by the Warriors. How can you justify THREE flagrant fouls? This is a team with an acute awareness of how bad it is.

POL
A correction on my last entry. I guess McCain was actually FOR the Proposition, and Wapner AGAINST. Still, getting it mixed up just proves my own point.

SPRT
And finally, this will be known as the week when we thought, really thought, that the Dodgers would make Kim Ng the first female General Manager. Says here they hire a black or Hispanic and get reamed, once again, in the press and on the field.

Meanwhile, the Burger King king is superimposed catching a touchdown for the Dallas Cowboys.

As if you needed another reason to cut out the Whoppers.

MR

QWTOFDY
"Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it. "
-Mark Twain

Title

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POL
Let's see if I've got this right.

1) Prince Charles and Non-Princess Camilla are coming to my smurfy little town of San Francisco. This is an important event, because Charles and Camilla are the heirs to the British throne, which is a lot like wearing a big pointy hat in the middle of Rome: completely futile, yet showered with unimaginable wealth.

Meanwhile, our own President Bush, who could be described quite the same way (if you'll spot me a moment of uncharacteristic generosity) has never, and will never, come anywhere near my backward little burg.

I guess he still has enough stray eggs from his first inauguration.

2) Last night, I found myself asking the serious question, "Who do I trust more, Senator John McCain, or Judge Wapner?" McCain was featured in a TV spot warning me against letting retired judges tackle redistricting. Wapner, whose People's Court is indirectly responsible for me wasting 1,240 hours of my college life watching Jerry Springer, says emphatically that I should trust the retired judges.

A Vietnam vet, albeit a Republican, or a retired TV judge. Tough to call. What would the Kindergarten Cop do?

3) Speaking of McCain -- who still gets my vote over most Democrats; how 'bout a McCain-Edwards ticket in '08? -- he's behind a bill now being weighed by the House of Representatives. McCain's fellow senators have already passed the bill, which concerns defense appropriations ("money for guns"), by a 90-9 margin, a winning percentage not seen since Warriors opponents in the post-Webber era.

Why is the bill so popular? Well, aside from including a lot of money for a bigger lot of guns, the bill bans the "cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment" of prisoners held anywhere in the world by the United States government.

That, of course, is a pretty extreme measure. And must be stopped.

Luckily, CIA Director Porter Goss, who was named for a highly transmutable foot fungus, and Vice President Dick Cheney have already tried to badger McCain into scuttling the torture provision. Also, the Bush White House has vigorously opposed the provision at every pass, and will likely veto the whole thing because of it. You know how dearly Bush likes money for guns, so it's nice to see him put our interests ahead of his own by holding out for our right to lovingly rub disfiguring chemicals on the recoiling penises of uncomprehending inmates who might, possibly, have been combatants for some kind of enemy.

SPRT
Much like the Ess Eff Baseball Giants, the Niners are playing cat-and-mouse with virtual elimination, barely halfway through their season. The truth is that, perhaps like the Bonds injury, the Niners' loss to the Redskins (or perhaps their breaking training camp at all) pretty much foretells a gruesome and fast-approaching death.

But, for the ratings, and because I know you're not going to church, let's say that after last week's upset, this week's game against the New York Football Giants will be an important litmus test.

Critics say a litmus test won't win the West. But what do they know? It might even get them on the Supreme Court.

SPRT
Speaking of local boys, ten minutes ago, after watching Adonnal Foyle botch four plays straight, I e-mailed a friend that Warrior rookie Chris Taft would start at center this season. Five minutes ago, the game five minutes old, Taft is called in.

The Warriors are an exciting team this year, and understand how to play. You know how local sports gets you into following the league nationwide, and I think it's gonna be awesome to follow the NBA this year. Plus, these guys are all such good athletes -- usually, even two or three on the worst teams -- that if you see a game down close, it's hard to go back.

MR

PS
Remember, for all of you Cauliflowernians, Tuesday is Vote Day. If, like me, you don't understand most of the propostions or why we're having this election in the first place, remember that evil Republicans are counting on you to stay home. Do your civic duty, if needs be, by going out (or writing in) and voting 'No' on everything.

Really. It makes a difference.

QWTOFDY
"For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."
-Sir Isaac Newton

Real Brown Vomit

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FEMA
Did you get this Brown thing? I can't stay on it too long. Google it.

The gist is: when the hurricane hit -- and many of his underlings were already on the ground in Mississippi and Louisiana, crisis managing -- FEMA Director Mike Brown exchanged a volley of emails with his deputy director of public affairs. So, yes -- they actually did put this unbelievable bullshit in writing, which should tell you something about the kind of saps we're dealing with.

To wit: This lady, named Cindy Taylor, yes-manned a message declaring, "My eyes must certainly be deceiving me. You look fabulous -- and I'm not talking the makeup."

To which Brown actually replied: "I got it at Nordstroms. Are you proud of me? Can I quit now? Can I go home?" An hour later, he sent a follow-up: "If you'll look at my lovely FEMA attire, you'll really vomit. I am a fashion god."

Brown, you'll remember, still admits no wrongdoing. Reports that the last message also included a picture of Brown in his FEMA attire, including a stretched-out pair of Hanes briefs adorning his head, have not been confirmed.

ART
No, Brown does not have a brother named Ezekiel Rubottom, and the two were not separated at birth. In fact, there's no evidence they've ever met. However, Rubottom, a 21-year-old resident of Lawrence, Kansas, does seem to share Brown's famously tasteful design sensibilities, as well as his knack for viewing deficiencies in a positive light.

Rubottom (also no relation to RuPaul) had a club foot, which he eventually had amputated. Wishing to keep the foot as a memento -- the practice is more common than you'd think; many people, including the author, have pieces of themselves floating in jars at home -- Rubottom dropped the foot into a bucket of formaldehyde and left the bucket on his front porch.

When a neighbor complained about the display -- fearing the foot was evidence of a violent crime -- getting a picture yet of life in Lawrence, Kansas? -- Rubottom objected. He had added a porcelain horse and a can of beer to his bucket, and now found himself defending his collection as "a collage of myself."

Actually, that beats Brown by a lot: I see myself in much the same way.

Don't you?

MR

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"Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl; someday I'm gonna make her mine."
-Last line ever recorded in studio by the Beatles

Lickett, Flickett, Stickett: Pickett!

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SPRT
Well, at least two awesome things went down on the Hunter's Point landfill last afternoon. First, the 49ers flipped a lot of numbers on their proverbial ears, dispatching the 5-1 Buccaneers, 15-10. The Niners never folded, never turned the ball over, never allowed a sack, never let the Bucs break a run, never relinquished the lead.

Stories on the week that was focus on Pro Bowler and perennial Len Eshmont Award Winner (for inspiring teammates) Bryant Young having a "meltdown," making impassioned speeches and twice going after rookie tough guy David Baas in practice. Teammates restrained Young -- although, says fireplug impersonator Anthony Adams, it wasn't him:

"Whatever he said, he shouldn't have,'' said Adams, chuckling. "I wanted to see [BY] go.''

The other thing that happened is good news only to this kind of franchise. With their struggling first string quarterback hurt, and their second traded, the Niners were resorting to former athlete Ken Dorsey to inch them closer to the draft pick that brings them USC runner Reggie Bush.

But Dorsey -- one 49er who plays more like a Scottish Claymore, in more ways than one -- let the wrong D-lineman sit on him, and had to limp off. And so it was that Cody Pickett -- long, lean, strong, and speedy, a former rodeo cowboy, and this year's jack-of-all-trades, went literally from tackling a punt returner on one play to calling signals on the next one.

The crowd was chanting Cody's name; even the US Justice Department employee watching alongside me refused ample opportunities to rescind his ringing cheers at Dorsey's misfortune. (That's right, he's a prosecutor.)

Of course, Pickett's 1-for-1 performance and key scramble still amount to little more than handing the ball off ten times, and, as so often happens in life, the real heroes were the ones bending over and sticking their fat asses in the protagonist's boyish mug.

The good news, other than fellow doormat Houston Texans' win, leaving the Bush sweepstakes status quo (a downtrodden team can't play both sides, but a downtrodden fan certainly can) is that Dorsey's ankle, along with Alex Smith's knee, will continue doing funny things well into next week. So Pickett, who's at least kept a headset airborne a year longer than Smith, gets his chance next week against the Whoever, We'll Probably Lose Anyways next week.

Apparently, in the meeting after last week's shellacking by a decidedly average Redskins squad, Coach Nolan murmured a rhetorical question: "Are you guys still with me?" And everyone in the room shouted, "YES, SIR!" I don't know if that's true, but it beats reading about I. Lewis Libby, or G. Gordon Liddy, or whatever they're calling him these days. (Did he misplace his blue Hello My Name Is: Fall Guy nametag? Has anyone seen a headline like, "Lewis Libby Sinky Shippy?")

The last positive in Ninerville -- you've got to write about 'em when you find 'em -- was the crowd. If you thought Niner fans would stay home, or stay quiet, just because we've spent the millenium as the laughingstock of the NFC, you've misunderestimated the San Francisco sports fan.

In addition to fingering Pickett as the bench's best story (and Pickett-fingering is usually a five yard penalty) the 49er Faithful got good and loud, motivating the retro red jerseys -- a look that says "winners" -- drowning out Buc signal callers, and occassionally even the fourteenth-string announcing team they always throw at us.

The betting action on Niner games this year has centered on when this week's pair of bozos break down into biting remarks over college rivalries as play continues unnoticed. Seriously, they can't find two enthusiastic interns to throw in there?

So enjoy the attention for a week, Niner fans; or, if you're a Bay Area sports fan in general -- how can yesterday be the first day in almost two years that both the Niners and Raiders won? -- for a day only, until we get the bad news that the Warriors have either re-signed or failed to re-sign Mike Dunleavy by today's deadline.

'Til then, I bleed Niner red.

And to all you Jews out there: Chappy Challoween.

MR

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"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."
-Leonardo DaVinci

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, Sucks

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SPRT
Okay, I know I've already wasted far too much cyberspace -- there's only so much to go around -- talking about the Forty Niners, a franchise wallowing at such a meager fraction of its heyday that it's often mistaken for the Sixers.

But while my judgments to date have been lukewarm -- or a downright refinery blaze, given the facts in evidence -- I have to admit that yesterday's performance can be read much like a Wes Craven starlet running up the stairs.

The worst is this: Alex Smith finally made a mistake.

I don't mean his seventeen interceptions, or his sixty-four fumbles. Given the state of his O-line, his paltry experience, and so on, Smith's only statistical goal should be to keep his quarterback rating off the richter scale.

Thus far Smith, sheltered by Coach Nolan's downy wing, has done swmmingly in the one area that matters: not fucking up the press conference.

In the meantime, this season, and probably next, will be spent learning the NFL game, which, for a twenty-year-old QB, resembles Nelson Mandela entering a Korean Halo tournament. In the meantime, Smith needs to impress his teammates with his toughness -- plenty of opportunity there -- and his smarts and reliability, which in this case means showing up on time and never misplacing his helmet.

Since D-Day, Smith has done all of these things. But yesterday, after a game in which he fumbled three more times (recovering two) Smith made his first misstep. Asked if the drops were a sign he was bothered by Washington's pass rush, Smith replied lamely, "I don't think I was rattled... Obviously, we don't get to choose the game balls. We're on the road. The air's a little different."

Smith -- who is big, has large hands, and was picked partly for his ability to run away from other big people -- has watched his undermanned team dry hump the mat in at least two games this year (counting Week Two in Philly, a 42-3 beating, in that Week Five's twenty-five point loss at home to the Colts was hailed as a moral victory) and has to wonder when the team will assign him a number, instead of the Target logo.

Okay. We'll give the rook something he's had precious few of: a free-and-clear pass. After all, as our great President once said, "Fool me once... shame on...? Shame on you... If you fool me, you can't get fooled again."

But for the sake of the franchise, let's hope the Niners don't schedule any games where the air's REALLY weird.

Like Mars.

Or Denver.

MR

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"The media is the message."
-Marshall McLuhan

(R) + 49 = Awful

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POL
Question -- do these scandals happen more to Republicans?

Or to Democrats?

Take a moment to think about it. "Scroll down for answer."

Okay, it's the elephants, right?

I'm reading the CNN article on Fitzgerald, and I guess he has to balance his time chasing Rove and all them against chasing a former Republican Governor accused of taking money.

It happens the other way. Cruz Bustamante, to pick a name, looked to me like someone whose ass pocket could use lining.

But let's be real about it.

Cheney's friends are ENRON... Rove looks like Agnew... DeLay is not only a crook, but rumored to be half orc; I suspect he's really Bill Romanowski's father.

I don't know. These guys are just more ruthless. That's why the Democrats are going to win the next Presidential election -- if not the midterms -- because they may be a bunch of sops, but they do believe in their mission, and only now are beginning to understand what's at stake.

You've heard my theories before. (If you haven't, do your duty and check out the archives. What are you, at work? You've got fuck-all else to do.) The politics of the Republican party make it natural that they counter the masses' best interest. This makes for a hateful bunch.

SPRT
As the Niner game begins, a few thoughts:

*Bruce Thornton is going to shut down Santana Moss and, say, go to the Pro Bowl.

*This is NO WAY to play football. Niners set a record for fewest first downs in a season.

*Brandon Lloyd will be around for a long, long time -- and retire with an unbelievable highlight reel.

*That Gatorade ad they just showed -- 'What if great moments had changed by an inch,' with Jordan's shot missing, Jeremy Giambi safe, and so on -- really cool. The editing is great -- Dwight Clark clutches his head; Jordan stomps moodily to a halt.

*If you can help it, or are on medication or feeling at all unwell:

...try not to watch this team.

MR

QWTOFDY
"Divide each difficulty into as many parts as is feasible and necessary to resolve it."
-Rene Descartes

I'm Speechless

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POL
No.

Voter fucking fraud in the Iraq elections?

I won't believe it.

Call me naïve.

SPRT
Albert Pujols: were you watching? Those who do not watch Albert Pujols at-bats are condemned to repeat it.

MR

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"Even kids cannot stand life unless they have a drink."
-Advertising slogan for Kidsbeer, a cola, marketed by the Tomamasu Corporation, that looks and foams like beer.

"Love Goes Out the Door... When Money Comes Innuendo"

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BLK
Here's what we're looking at.

"People are making serious money in this hurricane but
not the working and poor people who built and
maintained New Orleans. President Bush lifted the
requirement that jobs re-building the Gulf Coast pay a
living wage."

Now if any of you FUCKING ASSHOLES who actually voted for it, and again in 2004? -- HELLO? -- would like an 'I told you so,' I'll be sitting right over here in hippieville, walking my golden retriever in the park, while a tsunami kills all of your hired help.

PS
The "Bush is drinking again" rumors won't go away. What do you think?

Rumor and innuendo.

That's what we do here.

MR

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"Show me the man who keeps his house in hand,
He's fit for public authority."
-Sophocles

Sox Win; Sox Lose; Honeycutt Explodes

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SPRT
So, somebody heard me -- and this time, all the way from the East Coast.

I call John Smoltz perhaps the best money pitcher of all time. So what happens? Ozzie Guillen sees his White Sox load the bases on D, up only a run, in the playoffs against the dangerous Red Sox. He calls on Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez -- half-brother to one of the biggest CHUMPS of all time, Livan "Fat Ass" Hernandez -- and in a series of epic battles, El Duque calmly gets Out One, Out Two, and Out Three.

Now, Hernandez has been denied the chance to compete with Smoltz, Gibson, Jack Morris, and others for "Biggest Money Pitcher" because the United States doesn't like anyone we can't destroy, rendering Communist Cuba and its many talented citizens verboten. But if he fails to end the discussion, it's not for lack of trying. (Oh, I'd better say STARTING pitchers. Otherwise, as El Duque might point out, I'd have an angry Mariano Rivera to deal with -- and you don't want one of those.)

But let's give credit where it's due. Guillen -- who looks hardly older than his veterans, and loves nothing more than a passionate, confusing quote -- is an inspired manager. He's got his charges playing together as a team, maximizing the sum of their parts -- the hardest thing to do on the South Side, or anywhere else. I mean, everyone keeps saying that speedster Scott Podsednik has been the addition the team is built around, yet the Sox are still described as a three run homer outfit. Podsednik's forgettable second half was revealing -- keep in mind, this is a guy who for ten years couldn't hit enough to stick in the MINORS -- but it's still a remarkable contradiction. (Podsednik also set an unofficial record for most balls cut off in the gap, holding guys to singles, in a short series.)

I don't know how Guillen and company got John Garland to turn into Derrick Lowe -- the guy who won twenty, not the guy you saw before and since -- but for a former shorstop, the man knows pitchers. Ron Gardenhire, I hope you're paying attention.

In this age of specialization -- generally considered to have started when Tony LaRussa invented a robot that could throw up to eleven pitches from the left side eighty times a year, and named it #*Rick $_@Honeycutt∫˜html -- Guillen looks for his best pitcher, waits only for the toughest situation, and pulls the trigger.

In Game One, with Dustin Hermanson warm the whole time, Guillen went to Bobby Jenks -- and his two-plus months of Major League experience -- to start the eighth, then sat on his hands until Jenks had finished Boston and the game. Now, in game three, he doesn't care that it's only the sixth, or that his man wasn't even supposed to make the postseason roster. El Duque was the best man for the job, and the job was to get out of that jam.

Wonder how some guys just seem to get more out of their players? Well, the best managers are the ones who manage situations by demonstrating the greatest faith in their guys. Guillen does just that. And that's what players respond to.

It's amazing how, in Chicago or anywhere else, no one's been saying it: Sox for the Series. The White ones. How fitting would it be if the unconventional Guillen is forced to match wits with the automaton LaRussa for all the chips?

SPRT
A post-script to yesterday: apparently the Niners gave -- GAVE -- Jamie Winborn to Jacksonville for a seventh round pick. They don't even get any cap relief, though they do still get to pay a large chunk of his wages.

This is out-and-out robbery, and even the Niners brass must know that. Nolan has his reasons. But nobody will ever know what the hell they are.

POL
In other news, Republicans stall a five minute vote for over forty minutes, while they urge, cajole, and, I would think, blackmail fellow party members -- after all, Tom DeLay was leading the charge -- until one man's will breaks and a despicable energy bill passes, 212-210. (Why it's despicable, I have no idea. Sometimes it's enough to watch who's voting where. By the way, apropos of nothing, Anne Coulter tells Bill Maher on his show that liberals hate black people, and the whole exchange is entertaining. Okay, it's not entertaining. But it is friendly, which is just as unlikely.)

A nice moment after the vote: Democrats stand up as one and actually chant, "Shame! Shame!"

...And set a new Party record for timeliness: they're only three years too late.

MR

QWTOFDY
"Dissent is the highest form of patriotism."
-Thomas Jefferson