Thursday, July 31, 2003

A Couple of Quotes

The Daily Show's Jon Stewart, on homosexual marriage:

"It's not mandatory, is it? Because I don't think my wife would like that..."

and on the uproar surrounding it:

"Unless they're forcing you into man-sex, I don't know why it's keeping people up at night..."


From a bumper sticker I saw on a Volvo today:

"Lowlander: There can be a few"

And: This is not a quote, but has anybody else noticed that if you put a black cloak on Pope John Paul II, he becomes Emperor Palpatine?
From the I'd Never Really Thought About It file

You're Ireland!

Mystical and rain-soaked, you remain mysterious to many people, and this
makes you intriguing.  You also like a good night at the pub, though many are just as
worried that you will blow up the pub as drink your beverage of choice.  You're good
with words, remarkably lucky, and know and enjoy at least fifteen ways of eating a potato.
 You really don't like snakes.

Take the Country Quiz at
the Blue Pyramid

Seen first at Missives Anonymous
Braves Lose!

We hit a Braves game down in Atlanta tonight. They lost to Houston 7-3. We just got back home after the drive. I'm not so sure about the coherence of my thoughts banana trampoline gumdrop.

A goodish game. The Braves playing catchup...I was rooting for the Bravos as the Cubbies lost to the Giants earlier in the day. Alas, the damn Astros gained a game back on their lead.

Got to see Billy Wagner pitch for the Astros, which was a treat. You want to talk about a bullpen that can bring the heat, by the way...Lidge hit the radar gun at 96, then Dotel came in and lit it up at 98 once. And then Wagner came in, and he hit 101 twice.

A weird point in the sixth or seventh inning. Dark clouds covered the sky, and we heard a rumbling. But soon, we realized it wasn't thunder, but rather a big jet on its way to Hartsfield flying uncomfortably low over Turner Field.

They even noted it on the radio broadcast, which Mom was listening to.

Just that they haven't seen many jets flying that low over the stadium in a couple of years.

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

Dogs that I have known

These are the ten most influential dogs in my life, in chronological order.

1. Mitzi. She was my parents' pomeranian. Mitzi never got over that whole "Tommy taking the spotlight" thing from her. As such, she never cared for me much, and was always trying to bite my fingers and face. I didn't care much for her, either.

2. Abbadog. Abbadog was a mutt. But he was a good dog. Named when I was toddler after my favorite band. I don't remember Abbadog very much.

3. Charmin. She was my grandparents' poodle. Come to think of it, Charmin never cared much for me, either. Charmin lived to be very old. And very mean.

4. Tramp. Tramp was a mixed-breed who liked to explore, so he was perhaps the most aptly named dog I've ever known. Tramp belonged to Nicole, the girl who lived across the street (who got offended when I would say Dammit). Tramp and I played ball quite a bit, and we'd go "squirrel hunting," in which we'd walk around in the field behind our house carrying large sticks. Tramp was a good dog. I don't remember what happened to Tramp.

5. Ted. Ted was Samoyan (I don't know how to spell it). I don't remember too much about Ted, except that he was an exceptional tug-of-war player, and that he got hit by a car and survived. He ate everything. My mom told me a story about how Dad was planting potatoes in the garden, and Ted was going behind him, digging the potatoes up and eating them. Sadly, Ted probably met his end because of something he ate. Mom thinks he may have eaten an aluminum planting tray that she had been using.

6. Sue Lee/Suzie. An aunt's dog. Possibly two dogs, I'm not sure. Very little. Pekinese. Chased me. Very scary.

7. Cricket. My grandparents' dog after Charmin died. Another pomeranian. Another dog that ate everything. Dollars. Cigarettes. Newspapers. Loved those little doggie treats that looked like hamburger patties. Didn't like the Ronald McDonald doll with the whistle that I had. Also didn't much care for our fact few dogs like our basement...I've got a couple of ghost stories to share later on...dogs are a little more sensitive to such things.

8. Molly G. Molly was a really good dog. Golden Retriever. We got Molly when we moved out to the cabin on the hill. She was about a year old. Molly's favorite things were dry dog food with a little water poured on it, chasing the occasional cat, and rolling in cow manure. Also hated the water hose. Molly died about three years ago. Dad called me the morning they found her. It was one of the worst days of my life--I got mad at Garrett at work, and when I explained why, he understood. Her hips pained her at the end. I miss Molly.

9. Sally. Sally's one of my parents' current dogs. Sally's got a lot of black lab in her, but she's got a little something else, and they found her running along the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. They asked around and ran ads in the newspaper and eventually decided she was dumped on the side of the road. She's probably the offspring of somebody's hunting dog that got away from them. Sally's probably the smartest dog I've ever known. She's also very polite (won't bark or beg...she'll wait patiently for whatever she's needing). She's a little possessive. She doesn't like other animals (dogs, cats, people, and elephants, I would assume as well) getting close to her food. She's a little jealous of Maximus, as well. Sally was good at fetch. But it's a little beneath her now. Sally is a very good dog. And she has a pretty belly, and needs to be told so regularly.

10. Maximus. (Max for short). Max is a pug. Max is a guilt trip machine. He'll stretch out on the floor and roll those giant eyes at you. He has two speeds: stopped and 100 miles an hour. He has about 14 balls, dog toys or stuffed animals that are "his," and are scattered about the living room in various degrees of disarray at any given time. But what he wants most is an empty box or a bag or a hickory nut from outside, and anything else you've told him not to touch. He's a good boy, but he also has to be the center of attention, and that need leads him astray, occasionally. He farts more than any other dog I've ever known. Max likes everybody.

Honorable Mention:

Dawsey and Dawsey, Jr., the german shepherds owned by the Greens.

Patch, a big shaggy sheepdog owned by Tregg Kirkland, who once ate a Frito we'd dropped in a pile of cow manure (Patch, not Tregg.)

Unidentified white dog--belonged to a neighbor in Suburban Hills. Bit me while riding my bike. Didn't care for it.

Franz, a big german shepherd owned by my Uncle Charles.

Sasha, a neighbor's Dalmatian. Good dog, but a little deaf.

Rex, a neighbor's Doberman. Sally's friend. He looked like the Devil.

Smokey, a neighbor's Chocolate Lab. Very Big dog. Will eat Sally's food, if Sally's not around. He craps as big as me.

Doofus, who's not a dog, but a cat of my parents' who's currently banished outside for spraying in the house. I spent an entire summer trying to convince him that he's a dog...any time he tried to eat out of the cat's bowl moving him to the dog's dish; calling him dog, saying "good dog"; trying to make him fetch. My attempts were unsuccessful.

That's the list. Don't know why I wrote it. Maybe because Max and Sally were both right at my feet when I started trying to make up another list of silly town names.

I don't remember much about Abbadog, but since I named him, I figured he should rate.

My eyes teared up when I wrote about Molly.

But Max and Sally are good dogs. So it's all good.

Monday, July 28, 2003

Just a quick update on the License Plate game, since I know you all are waiting to update the fantasy leagues:

I got 38 of the 48 continental states, plus the District of Columbia...which means I scored 78 points!

Also, I got Alberta, Ontario and Quebec, which are part of a country called "Canada."

I know....I'd never heard of it either. I looked on a map. It's so easy to miss...all tucked away down there.

Update: The 10 states from the 48 contiguous I was missing: New Hampshire, Arkansas, North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Washington, New Mexico, Nevada and Wyoming. If you see them, tell them I was looking for them.

Sunday, July 27, 2003

An idea

How would I improve upon the standard lodging experience in the American hotel/motel industry?

In-room pizza ovens.

Friday, July 25, 2003

My priorities/Friday Five

Proving that I have my priorities in order, I've gotten internet access just long enough to set the players on my fantasy baseball team and do this weeks Friday Five:

1. If your life were a movie, what would the title be?

Police Academy 8: the Son of Tackleberry

2. What songs would be on the soundtrack?

Well, the score to the Police Academy series, of course. But also "Joe Bean," sung by Johnny Cash; "Who Made Who?" by AC/DC; the theme to Transformers, by White Lion; "I got You Babe," the duet with Cher and Butt-head, from the first Beavis and Butthead album, and the Chili's Baby Back Rib song.

3. Would it be a live-action film or animated? Why?

Live Action. It would be ridiculous to try to animate the presence that is Bubba Smith. He's a human cartoon as it is.

Actually, though, I think it'd be neat to see a day of my life re-done anime style.

4. Casting: who would play you, members of your family, friends, etc?

I think I should be played by either Tommy Chong or Will Sasso. Or maybe Betty White.

Bill could only be done justice by Clancy Brown.

My Dad should be played by Wrestling's "Double A" Arn Anderson, circa 1993.

My friend Jason bares an uncanny resemblance (in both personality and appearance) to Bruce Campbell.

My friends at Tennessee Overhill, Diane and Shyam, must be played by a resurrected Lucille Ball and Vivian Vance.

My sister should be played by Mr. T.


Bubba Smith as Hightower
Steve "What else am I doing?" Guttenberg as Mahoney
Michael Winslow as Jones
Marion Ramsey as Hux
Bobcat Goldthwait as Zed
Tim Kazurinsky as Sweetchuck

And the Village People would play themselves.

5. Describe the movie preview/trailer.

The screen would be dark, and then lightning would light the screen and thunder would roll across a cityscape. And while different scenes of the violence that is marring the city cross the screen, the movie guy voice would say:

"In a world, fraught with violence and discord, in which, there is no hope...."

"They have lost one of their own..." And it would show the Police Academy crew around the grave of Eugene Tackleberry (who was played in the previous 7 movies by the late David Graf).

"And they must now meet their biggest themselves..." and here, Mikhail Gorbachev. And Gorbechev says "New York City....will be mine....."

Voiceover: "Or do they?"

And then I appear on the screen, bursting through the wall like the Kool-Aid Pitcher man, carrying a bunch of guns, firing them into the sky....laughing a laugh that is a cross between Eddie Murphy's and James Cromwell's laugh in the first Revenge of the Nerds movies.

And Mahoney looks at Hightower and says: "Tackleberry had a son?"

And then a quick cut to Bobcat Goldthwait, who says "I thought he was a virgin!"

Then there's a shot of my saying to a perp: "You're under arrest!"

The movie voiceover guy: "There's only one problem...."

Mahoney says to Jones: "He's not a cop," followed by a montage of several different characters saying "You're not a cop!"

"And now," the voiceover guys says, "their job is simple."

A shot of Gorbachev laughing maniacally.

"They've got to make him into a cop, or lose everything they hold dear..."

Then ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" starts booming in the background. And I show up in a police uniform.

And then you see half-second glimpses of the zaniness that follows. Me falling down the stairs. Sweetchuck being chased by some dogs. Hightower and Mahoney in a strip club. Jones making machine gun noises. Zed looking at a girl in a bikini. Me saying "No, No, No," and then me shooting a really big machine gun.

Voiceover guy: This summer....

Another shot of a girl in a bikini.

Voiceover guy: The Police Academy Crew is Back....

Shot of Sweetchuck getting his head slammed in a police car door.

Voiceover guy: And they're training....

Hightower pulling his foot out of toilet.

Voiceover guy: The next Generation of Recuits....

Me with a whole bunch of spaghetti and spaghetti sauce all over me, asking "So when's our date?"

Voiceover guy: On July 23....The Son Rises

Zed says to Sweetchuck: "This ain't gonna be easy...."

Jones says into the camera: "Here we go again....," and then as the marquee for Police Academy 8 flashes up on screen, you hear Jones doing his megaphone voice saying "This is the police..."

Hell yeah.

Thursday, July 24, 2003

South Cakalaki

Just wanted to drop a line. I'll be out of town for a couple of days. I'm heading to South Carolina for a long weekend. Don't know how much internet access I'll have. Owing to all the stories I've heard, this particular Carolina is a deserted wasteland...and I'll be so busy fighting off the Fudge Mutants and the Radioactive Trogs that I'm probably not going to have time to post while I'm down there.

I've got so much to do before I go: Some laundry. Eat all the cheese in the fridge so my roommate won't get it. Lock the toilet. Exchange my Tennessee scrip for South Carolinian money (there's a guy down at the Texaco station who told me I should do this and that he'd be happy to do it for me, because he had lots of South Carolina money just sitting around).

A quick note: Saturday is the blogathon. I'm throwing some support to Emily at Give War a Chance. If you have a spare moment, get in there and look around. Find somebody to support.

Another quick note on the Cubs: In his first game as a Cub last night Aramis Ramirez made his 24th error of the year on what looked like a routine grounder. And I realize that I made probably the dumbest statement ever yesterday in regards to Aramis' lack of mental focus, soft hands and multitudinous errors. It made no sense (even to me, re-reading it today). You should disregard that completely.

Wednesday, July 23, 2003

The Next Ron Santo....v. 98.0

In the midst of the Cubs trading for Aramis Ramirez, I found this page on the Cubs 3d basemen since Ron Santo.

And it made me smile. I've been a Cubs fan since 1984, and in that time, I can remember a few of the second (or forty-fifth) comings of Ron Santo. My personal favorite was Steve Buechele, who played third in the early nineties for the Cubbies. I thought he'd stick on a while. And I was kind of high on Kevin Orie, too, in the late nineties. I always liked Ron "the Penguin" Cey, too. But he was old when the Cubs got him....

I think my least favorite in the last 20 years was Keith Moreland. Or maybe Vance Law. Can't rightly guess why, though.

I hope Aramis sticks. He's got some pop in his bat, and despite his multitudinous errors, he's got soft hands and a nice arm at third. I think the errors are mental. I wonder if the Cubs can make him focus a little more. He's 25. He has all the potential in the world....more than Kevin Orie, Craig Worthington, or Cole Liniak ever had.
Backtracking yet ever Obstinate

I got to thinking about it, and I guess, in a roundabout way, we all are potentially criminals. I mean...who's to say what the future could hold and what a man could be driven to? I say all this after having tried to read quietly in my room, and the man with the lawnmower decided to park the mower (still running, mind you) under my window while he ran inside his apartment to do something. In my imagination, it was to microwave a footlong pizza sub...because nothing goes together like mowing the lawn and eating a pizza sub.

And I guess it all has to do with who's making the laws, too. I mean, if I were king, it'd be illegal to talk on your cellular phone while driving 38 miles an hour in the left hand lane. Grounds for execution.

However. What I should have said is: Not all of us are actively plotting against the government.

I reserve my active plottings to be carried out against private individuals.
The House tells Ashcroft to Stick It

Found this link on Say Uncle:

Could somebody please tell John Ashcroft that we're not all potential criminals?

Fortunately, the House of Representatives has fought back, ever so much, by rejecting the Ashcroftian Urge "To Protect My Stuff from the Bad Guys by Taking The Bad Guys Out First."

The House overwhelmingly voted to roll back the provision in the Patriot Act that allowed law enforcement to do "sneak and peek" searches of private property.

From the Post article:
The move would block the Justice Department from using any funds to take advantage of the section of the act that allows it to secretly search the homes of suspects and only inform them later that a warrant had been issued to do so.

Ummm...Good. It's nice to know that somebody else recognizes the fact that the law doesn't just pertain to the terrorists; John Ashcroft doesn't have magical powers (as much as he might believe that he does) to recognize terrorists, and that the authorities could just as easily search your home, as part of's quest to unearth the "bad guys."

And don't give me that crap about "if you have nothing to hide you having nothing to worry about."

Isn't it my right to live my life and have a private area where only I tramp? I just don't want people messing around up in my stuff, digging through my undies, looking at my comic books and unearthing my trove of porno just because I don't fit somebody's mold of what's normal. I thought that's what separated America from...I dunno...a fundamentalist regime.

I don't know how good an argument I'm making. I'm not terribly political, so making a political argument, to me, is kind of like wearing a suit made of out noodles. It's unnatural. I just feel like the more and more you want to see the devil, the more you're going to see him. Like looking at the pattern of a wood grain that looks vaguely like a face....the more you convince yourself of it, the more you're going to see the face.

And anybody (even law enforcement) can convince themselves that something looks suspicious if they think about it long enough. Even Big Stupid Tommy.
Cubs Are Trying to Win!!!!!

The Cubs traded Jose Hernandez (who added nothing), and two minor leaguers to Pittsburgh for Kenny Lofton and Aramis Ramirez.

What a great, great thing!

I was a little peeved when they traded for Hernandez. I kind of figured when they weren't playing him a lot, they were loading him up as trade bait.

Lofton is a true leadoff guy. That's what the Cubs have needed up top. He could stand to be a little more patient (especially since he's a veteran now), but anything's better than having Mark Grudzielanek leading off.

And Aramis Ramirez (whom I remember playing for the Sounds for a couple of seasons) has quietly put up nice numbers at third base for Pittsburgh. He's a very streaky guy, though. For now, I wouldn't think of putting him any higher than seventh in the batting order, especially if Moises and Karros have hot bats..

Speaking of Karros. What worries me about this whole deal are reports that in order to open a roster spot on the 25 man roster for one of these two new fellows, they'll be sending Hee Seop Choi down. I can't help but think this would be detrimental to the feller's confidence. Go with Karros' hot bat, but keep Choi on the roster.

Here's an idea:

Release Lenny Harris

Or make him a coach. I think that's why Dusty and Cubs GM Jim Hendry have kept him on the roster. He's a smart, smart player. And he's tried taking a couple of younger guys under his wing, showing them a couple of things.

He just hasn't been performing on the diamond, that's all.

This is good news, and it makes me feel a little better about the Cubs' chances.

Tuesday, July 22, 2003

A Few Random Thoughts

What's with all these people moving to Wisconsin, already? My buddy David's moved to Beloit. My friend Alex is moving up (near Madison, I believe) next week. My friend Joebo has family up that way. The Packers play in Wisconsin. I'm starting to believe that the universe is a swirling vortex, with its center sucking everything toward it. Somewhere just outside of Milwaukee.

If there's anybody reading up there, tell me if my theory's correct. I think it's all the cheese and beer, making some large gravitational bodies up there.
As much as I hate reality TV, I've really gotten sucked into the Last Comic Standing. The difference between this and every other reality show I've watched is that there is no enemy. At least for me. I like everybody on the show. You know. The first Survivor had the naked Richard Hatch. And the second Survivor had that really evil Jerri girl. Flintstones had Betty Rubble. The Today Show has Al Roker.
The Cubs are getting beaten by the Braves as I write. 8-2 in the fifth.
I finished Christopher Moore's The Lust Lizard in Melancholy Cove this afternoon. I'd never read any of Moore's stuff. This was lent to my by Steven along with Island of the Sequined Love Nun, which didn't grab me right off. But Lizard's a fun read. He reminds me a lot of Vonnegut, with his story structure and his unwilling, flawed heroes. There's a little bit of Douglas Adams. Reminds me a bit of Hiaasen, too, though not as zany.

I don't know what's up next on the to-read list. I might give Island another try. My sister got me a couple of Bernard Cornwell's books, and I started Faulkner's Intruder in the Dust, but left it laying in my parents' sun room a couple of weeks ago and forgot to bring it back to Murfreesboro with me.
Is there anything that looks more sad and formulaic than Whoopi Goldberg's new show in the ads being run on NBC? Whoopi was funny once, wasn't she? Is she cursed by having associated herself so freely with Bruce Vilanche?
I put my apples in the fridge. And then I tried to eat them. And was surprised when they were too cold to bite into comfortably. That's why it's called Big Stupid Tommy.
I watched Devil's Playground earlier this evening. It's a documentary about the Amish youth, who reach their age of reckoning. At the age of 16, they're allowed to partake in the "English" world. They drive, and play video games and whatnot. But they also smoke, drink and (in Faron's case) do and deal the drugs.

It's informative. There were parts that rang a little...Idunno...staged to me. Faron's girlfriend Anna. At a couple of points, her inflection just seemed off. Like maybe she was reading from something.
Everyone in the documentary smoked. Just something else I noticed.
I was pretty proud of something I thought about. I wrote it on the TNA Thoughts page.
This is probably the most boring blog entry ever.
Do you like underdogs? How about movies about underdogs? What about movies where the underdog is multiplied by four? How about a movie where the horse is too small the jockey's too big the trainer's too old and I'm too damn dumb to know the difference?

It's just been shoved down my throat. I don't want to see Seabiscuit.
My Christmas tree is on top of the fridge. It's 24 inches tall.

I'd spoken with a couple of people who read this site regularly about the blogathon. It's being held this Saturday and there are a great number of good causes you can support by sponsoring a blogger who will be posting at least once every thirty minutes over a 24 hour period (which starts, I believe, at 9 AM Eastern, 6 AM Pacific).

I'd thought about participating, but it ends up I'll be out of town this Saturday, so I can't.

Head to the blogathon site to see if there's a site you can help out. I signed up to throw some support to Give War a Chance...though I may have screwed up during the signup process, so I'm not entirely sure what's going on--if my signup went through, etc. I'm on a library computer right now, and who's to say what it's done for me.

But not knowing what's going on. That's just me on a normal day, isn't it?
Who had 70 sextillion?

Alright? The results are in...who had 70 sextillion in the "Number of Stars in the Universe Contest?"

It wasn't me. I guessed 34 bajillion.

70 sextillion is 70 million million millions.

(In best Beavis voice): That's not that much, really.

Monday, July 21, 2003

Batman! Batman! Batman! Batman! Batman! Batman!

Look at this stuff from Aintitcool: A Batman short film has emerged.

And it's the best looking stuff ever! I crapped in my pants! Just a little. I am a grown-ass man, afterall.

I saw it anyway, but Bill also alerted people to it.
Mark Prior goes on the Disabled List

Do you know when it all went bad for the Cubs? It was the series with the Yankees at Wrigley Field. It was that Saturday. And I was watching on the television. And Kerry Wood was having himself a helluva game.

And I said to myself: "You know. Maybe the Cubs actually have a chance this season."

The words had fallen out of my face about 12 seconds...and then Hee Seop Choi got injured. He collided with Kerry Wood chasing a pop up and he got that nasty concussion that had him out a few weeks.

And Kerry Wood couldn't get a win, to save his life.

And Lenny Harris hasn't had an extra-base hit since the middle of May.

And Shawn Estes is pitching with the old Chicago-style 9 inch wide softball.

And they've gone something like 11-23 since that series. (I don't know the exact record)

And now Mark Prior goes on the disabled list. It's not bad. He'll miss a couple of starts...possibly just one.'s scary to see a guy with his talent get hurt. But then...he's a Cub. I should have no fear at this point.

C'mon. Admit it. It's not that egocentric, is it?
Here is a short list of my favorite people that I saw yesterday when I went to the Tennessee Aquarium. In no particular order, though I've saved the best for last:

1. The family who was looking into the Nickajack Lake display, and pointing out the different kinds of fish they've caught. I overheard at one point one asking another "Doesn't that look like what we caught over next to the dam?" and the reply "Yeah. That tasted good."

2. The guy who kept trying to take pictures of the fish with his girlfriend/wife posed sexily next to the tank. I expect I'll hear from Steven say these were posted at the Fish Geeks site he reads.

3. Somebody was farting. They weren't my favorite. But I liked the two guys next to me at a display. One asked in a whisper that was meant to be quiet but had to be overheard over all the people: "Did you fart?" and the reply from the other guy, also in a very loud whisper: "No."

4. There was a display where you could touch a sturgeon. And there was a little kid who was complaining about coming to the aquarium when he could have been at a movie. And he touched the sturgeon. And was completely unimpressed. And then he dipped his hand back into the water. And all four sturgeon in the little pond came quickly to him. And he ran away, disgusted.

5. My Dad, who thought it was funny to trap me in the revolving door.

6. The guy who overestimated the distance between his head and the aquarium glass at the Gulf of Mexico Display. He hit the glass hard.

7. The pipefish from the Australian reef who camouflage themselves by looking like seaweed. They aren't people, but I liked them a lot. Also, the spider-crabs. And the beluga sturgeon and the snapping turtles.

And finally

8. There are a lot of narrow corridors in the museum. Space is a consideration, but if I were planning, I'd have kept from doing that as much as possible.

And there were a lot of people with strollers there.

We're going down one corridor, and there's a couple with a stroller in front of us. And we reach the revolving door that will take us to the next exhibit.

The guy with the stroller (which is empty, by the way) is deciding whether or not he can fit through the revolving door with the stroller. Despite the big sign right next to the door saying "take strollers through handicapped entrance," which, incidentally, is right next to the revolving door.

So he wedges himself and the stroller in the little compartment. He maneuvers and he crams and he tries to shimmy his way around with the door. For about twenty seconds he tries.

It is not until he looks up and sees about six of the 30 or so people who've gotten backed up in the little tiny corridor who are pointing at the handicapped door.

As he pulls the stroller out of the door, he protests: "But I'm not handicapped."

Where's Bill Engvall when you need him?

The aquarium is pretty cool. I'd like to go when it's a little less crowded. Or at least when the largest portion of the clientele hasn't been brought there against their will.

Sunday, July 20, 2003

Swingin' at the Drive-In

Boy. If you thought Ang Lee's Hulk movie was long, overwrought and generally not a lot of fun....try watching it a second time.

We decided after a long day of mowing that it was Drive-In Movie night with the family. The sister (April) and her fiance (Jeff) came, too (the little nugget of their impending nuptials was delivered earlier in the weekend--I offer my congrats). They brought pizza.

Legally Blonde 2 was the first half of the double feature. It was enjoyable, though Luke Wilson's character gets cheated out of a wedding at Fenway Park. And nobody who does that to a guy should be regarded as the "heroine." That's just vile to do to a person. No matter your reasons.

Hulk was the second movie of the twinbill. I'd seen it before, but none of the others had. By the time it was over, April and Jeff had left, and Mom had gone to sleep.

Skeeter Count: 11 dead ones. Despite using the Deep Woods Off.

Friday, July 18, 2003

Theo was cursed with an artist's soul but no talent. He possessed the angst and the inspiration, but not the means to create."

--Christopher Moore, from his The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove.

It's a good book. But I've never smiled more at the description of a character's makeup than I did when I read that line. And, drawing from the many moments of creative frustration I've had in my life, empathized more with a character.

Thursday, July 17, 2003

Ben Affleck, Man Among Men

Ben Affleck is now my hero.

On the Dateline NBC interview with Affleck and J-Lo, Pat O'Brien (who's like the Walter Cronkite of fluff pieces) asked about the green dress that Jennifer Lopez wore to the Grammys a few years back (you know, the one with all the cleavage).

And Ben asked "Is that the titty dress?"

I've never been more proud. It's gotta be a nice position to be in to be able to say the word "titty" in polite conversation with J-Lo.

Actually, some of the stuff between Kevin Smith and Ben Affleck on the commentary to Mallrats and Dogma is funnier than anything Affleck's done on screen.

The best part of this post? The fact that since I've included the words "titty" and "Jennifer Lopez," I'll probably double my hits for the day.
Diane Hutsell, 41, Truth or Consequences, NM, writes:

> I was surprised not to see any comment on on
> the following:
> 1.) TV talk show host Jerry Springer has officially
> filed papers to run for the US Senate for Ohio. He
> was on GMA yesterday am and seemed surprised when
> Charlie Gibson wanted to ask how he was going to get
> people to overlook the moron-ness of his show.

Okay guys, set your feet. Here's another uninformed Big Stupid Tommy opinion:

I'm of two minds on the subject of Jerry Springer being in the Senate.

He was Mayor of Cincinnati and he is an (semi-)accomplished journalist. So he's got the background for it.

His show might hurt him the the way Diane mentioned. People may stare down their noses at his syndicated television programme and he might not be taken seriously by the press or voters.

But he's also not your traditional candidate. All elections are nowadays are popularity contests. Who looks good on TV? Who gives the best sound bites? And most importantly: Who's recognizable? People know who Jerry (Jerry! Jerry!) is. People watch his show. People buy his videos.

Are they the same people that get out and vote? That's the important question. Probably not, is my first inclination. But if Springer could somehow get his audience motivated enough to make it to the polls....

Also, there are people (not unlike myself) who would like to see the system derailed somewhat, and would vote for Jerry (Jerry! Jerry!) along those lines.

I'd vote for him.

What it would come down to for Jerry (Jerry! Jerry!) is whether he would get enough voters out to support him. To do that, if he would have to turn enough heads with those voters who are initially undecided and not already firmly set against him.

Because he's gonna have his fanbase support. And he's gonna have an already set group against him. And my instincts tell me that the two groups are roughly the same size. I have no evidence to support this theory, but I'll fight you nonetheless.

That being said, here's the other mind.

I'd be a little ashamed of any constituency that voted Jerry Springer into office. Because you'd know that his election would be due in large part to the popularity of his television show, and not on the strength of any political or philosophical leaning of Jerry (Jerry! Jerry!).

Also: Would Steve still get to be his security guy? He'd be neat to have on the Senate floor. Breaking shit up between John "If he's on my lawn again I'll shoot him" McCain and Hillary "He Ain't My Baby-Daddy" Clinton. Tackling Teddy Kennedy when he goes to attack Bill Frist.

> 2.) Rush Limbaugh is joining ESPN's Sunday NFL
> Countdouwn as a host and commentator starting in
> Sept. (or don't you follow football?)

Of course I follow football. I'm from Tennessee. I was in Football class fifth period my Freshman year with Ms. Diane West. I minored in English and Football my first go-round at MTSU.

I don't see what Rush can add from a football point of view. I mean, I understand that he brings with him an established following (kind of like Jerry), but how many of them are going to watch a show about football unless they're football fans?

But then, I've never been impressed by the Dittoheads. Maybe they'll follow him to football just as mindlessly as they follow him on the radio dial.

Well. Them's my thoughts. Thanks Ms. Hutsell for writing. Your check is in the mail.
It's the 4:13 AM Joke of the Day

Yeah. Still can't sleep. Though this joke made me smile:

A blond, a brunette and a redhead are sitting down for lunch one afternoon. The redhead says to the others, "I found cigarettes in my daughters room! I can't believe she's a smoker!. The brunette says "That's nothing. The other day I found beer in my daughters room. I can't believe she's a drinker!. The blonde looks at the other two and says, "Well you two are lucky. Just yesterday I found condoms in my daughters room. I never even knew she had a penis!"
Can't Sleep

Hello! And salutations from the ass-end of the night!

Haven't had an insomnia night for a couple of months, now.

This one's bad.

I went to sleep around 11:30. And I had a dream. I don't remember what the dream was about. It was one of those that as soon as I woke up, it all kind of fluttered past me, and I lost it like the tide receding or a train going away from you hurriedly.

But I woke up badly a little while ago, and I just had the absolutely worst, profoundly sad feeling. That was the only thing left from the dream. I don't know how to explain it. It was about an hour ago. I still haven't quite shaken it all the off. Would it make sense if I said that how I felt when I woke up, that it went bone deep? Just that I don't remember often ever having felt that low. I'm having trouble even coming up with words. Just that I felt absolutely horrible, and the first few minutes were like struggling out of a net, or a pit or something.

And I've still not quite shaken it off. I wonder if we've lost somebody?

I'm not doing a very good job of describing it. You'll excuse the 2:40 ramblings of an insomniac, huh?

It's very hot in my bedroom. Air doesn't flow well back there. I think I'll try sleeping on the couch.

I had a dream last night about walking around an antebellum era Athens, TN. And there were people I knew there, all gearing up for the War of the Northern Aggression. And there was also an antebellum era McDonald's and Blockbuster Video. I'm still not sure how that works, but in dream logic it made only perfect sense.

I also had a dream where I'd been cast in the newest season of MTV's Real World, to take place in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The newspaper says its in San Diego. I think differently.

It's not very long what I've written here. Mostly because I am tired, and I'm typing slowly and having trouble picking my words. I'm also having to back up and fix mistakes a lot.

Antebellum is a hard word to write when it's this early and you're fighting off perhaps the oddest emotional swing in a long, long time.

But I'm feeling a little better.

Wednesday, July 16, 2003

There are eight Homers on top of my bookcase.

The first is the Stonecutter Homer. He is Sgt.-at-Arms.
The second is Pin Pals Homer. He Secretary of War.
The third is Yoda Homer. He is Vice-President.
The fourth is Underwear Homer. He is the Cook.
The fifth is Dancing Homer. He is Secretary of Recreation.
The sixth is Radioactive Homer. He is the President.
The seventh is Sunday Best Homer. He is the Treasurer.
The eighth is Homer. He is my hero. He is the Secretary of Beer.

18 Tennessee Counties have flunked a smog test. A couple of counties caught my eye.

My current home, Rutherford County, is on the list. I got a few thoughts as to why, and and how we can get rid of the biggest cause.

1.) We get a lot of the traffic into and out of Nashville, and we house a great number of the Davidson County workforce: Murfreesboro is town built for 50,000 with about 80,000 stuffed into it. So we have a lot automobile traffic and a lot of the pollutant output from all the extra homes in the area. Lawnmowers and such. But this is not the largest cause.

2.) And while we have emission standards for our vehicles, there are a lot of exemptions for diesel-powered vehicles. But this is not the largest cause, either.

3.) Murfreesboro (the county seat) is also a college town, so during the school year, we have anywhere from 8 to 10 thousand folks from other counties within Tennessee and from outside the state coming to MTSU study, and their vehicles don't have to meet the same emissions standards. Neither is this the largest cause.

4.) Plus, we have a Nissan Plant in Smyrna. But they give so many people jobs that it's not possible that they pollute. There's a ratio. For every seven jobs created, harmful emissions are reduced 3.1%.
So that's definitely not the largest cause.

But I'm not blaming cars. Or lawnmowers. Or even industry, necessarily. I leave that to SKBubba.

Here is our biggest pollution problem in Rutherford County:

I blame Bill Bacon. For his flatulence. He needs to eat healthier. Have you ever smelled it when he goes to the bathroom? He's half to blame for all the global warming we've had here on Earth. "I think I'm gonna eat nothing but chicken, beans and sugar!" Talk about environmental irresponsibility.

Also: on the list in the article, Meigs County. Which borders my birthplace McMinn County to the west. And I had to think about what's in Meigs County. Three things came to mind.

1.) It's got more than its share of junk cars on the road. And I don't say that as an insult. It's a strange county for incomes. A lot of high income families; a lot of low income families. And a lot of good ol' boys who just don't give a shit. But they got a good football team at Meigs County H.S.

2.) We got a Nookuelar plant over at Watts Bar. You know, it didn't open for like a hundred years because they couldn't meet safety standards. But I won't mention that.

3.) But personally...I wonder about all those boats out near Watts Bar every weekend. I mean, they're building a four-lane highway from Athens to Decatur just so the weekend warriors can get their boats out there more quickly. How much carbon monoxide does a boat engine put out?

What I recommend is this: Changing the values of everyone in McMinn County (and Meigs and even parts of Bradley and Monroe Counties, now that I think about it) so that that end-all/be-all of human existance isn't owning a boat and going to the lake on the weekend.

And if I get behind a guy at a red-light who's pulling a boat on a trailer who won't turn right on red when I have to go the bathroom one more time.....

Tuesday, July 15, 2003

I'm Ruined!!!!!

I can't believe it. I blew my entire $186 fortune betting on the National League to win this year's All-Star game.

The American League won 7-6 in what was definitely one of the more enjoyable All-Star games in a while. Maybe the whole thing where "This Game Counts" added a little something after all. Mike Scoscia definitely played the matchups a little better. I guess when Dusty got that 5-1 lead, he started feeling a little confident, so he said "matchups be damned" and started putting everybody in.
The next thing you know, they'll give us the right to free speech!

Emily, over at Give War a Chance, has happened upon some intriguing correspondence between the Rev. Pat Robertson and the Almighty. Not for the faint of heart. Ye've been warned.
Why isn't This stuff on America's Funniest Videos?

Bill pointed me in the direction of this article. Link from

A vicar headbutts a photographer down, marring a couple's wedding.

Also, from the Drew Carey Show:

Oswald (running out the door, afraid he's eaten poison): I'm scared! Everything's going dark!

Lewis: It's called "night," you moron!
Just a touch of stream-of-consciousness for your reading pleasure

The neighbors woke me up this morning. I was up late reading. Harry Potter's a whiny so-and-so. When will he ever learn that Severus Snape is just looking out for his best interests, because Harry's just so much more talented than he is, but Harry doesn't work at it at all? The neighbors were going out to their car and they were yelling to each other through the windows. Grab the tickets! They're on the nightstand! I wonder where they're going. Hopefully far enough away where I can't hear them. I got up and went for a walk. It was 6:45 and it's already hot. I don't like the summertime anymore. What with the humidity and the bugs. There was a weird spider in my bedroom yesterday. The families on Family Feud should all be sterilized. By Richard Dawson. I'm so sleepy. Why did they have to yell? If they're in such a frigging hurry it's only another 20 feet!

Monday, July 14, 2003

Mind Warp!!!!!

Just wanted to point some of you in the direction of Mind Warp, the blog of a feller who e-mailed me this evening. I liked his blog. I give it seven bags of movie popcorn, 2 big sodas and a Snickers.
Home Run Derby

You know, I really enjoyed tonight's Home Run Derby. In the past, I 've always thought it was kind of a let down, and I thought sometimes it took away from the All-Star game, as it gave all the immature fans all the candy they wanted. It's sugary baseball, the Home Run Derby is.

But I thought the exhibition put on by Albert Pujols and Garrett Anderson was excellent. Jason Giambi showed himself well.

No Magglio? It's Comiskey for God's sake!

No Sammy Sosa? It's Chicago, for God's sake!

And I'm watching the celebrity softball challenge. And my all-time hero Ryne Sandberg is not acquitting himself well. I blame former Bears QB Jim McMahon. Defer to the Major Leaguer when going for fly balls.

Also, at the behest of a couple of new readers who've e-mailed me, I'm testing out the comment system again. Don't mess with it. Or I'll hunt you down.
Happy Birthday, Julie

I just wanted to publicly call attention to the fact that my friend Julie was born several years ago, today.

I've asked her, but not gotten a satisfactory answer, if since her birthday falls on Bastille Day, she ever gets sentimental for prison riots.

We went to Chili's last night, where she threatened certain death if we'd alerted the restaurant that it was her birthday.

Can any restaurant come up with something more than the wait staff clapping at your table?

Actually, she threatened "to pop the bulbous melon perched precariously on (my) neck like a bloated tick if you tell the waiter anything about my birthday."

Later, we watched Office Space at her apartment on her new DVD player. Every time I see that movie, it gets funnier. Just the part where Peter is walking down the hallway, Lumbergh steps into his path, and Peter just swerves to the left and walks right around him.
Lazy. Very Lazy.

SKBubba's too lazy to blog. So am I.

I'm too lazy to even post links to look around the blogworld.

SKBubba's not.

Actually, there are a couple of things I'd like to draw your attention to:

I've been reading A Moveable Beast lately. I got a kick out of her response to the "so-called-homosexual-agenda."

And Mike Reed took a kid to the pediatrician. I don't think it was meant to be funny, but I kept returning to the line "her head size is off the chart." It made me smile, along with the phrase "she'll grow into her head."

Take it from a feller with a size 8 melon, Mike: People with larger craniums are merely smarter. Also, more witty and they're gud spellrs.

Wearing a turtleneck, however, is out of the question.
One of my Favorite Jokes

This is one of my favorite jokes. It's making the rounds again. I heard it on Bob and Tom when Bill Scheft was a guest a couple of weeks ago, and I read it on the joke page of Maxim or FHM or one of those magazines.

But I first heard it on the David Letterman Show a long time ago. I don't know if it was the current Late Show on CBS, or the old Late Night on NBC. But Tony Randall told the joke. He was in fill-in guest mode, and he wasn't pushing anything. And Dave asked: Do you have any jokes to tell? And here's the joke he told (more or less):

A woman went to her doctor for a follow-up visit after the doctor had given her a prescription for the male hormone testosterone.

The woman was a little worried about the side effects. She says to the doctor: "I've been experiencing a little hair growth," and asks: "Is that normal?"

She opens up her shirt and shows the doctor. And sure enough, her chest, and indeed the front of her entire torso, is covered in a fine layer of dark hair.

"Well," he says after studying for a minute, "a little hair growth is to be expected. How far down does it go?"

A little pensively, she answers: "All the way down to my balls, and that's something else I wanted to ask to you about....."

Sunday, July 13, 2003

Priorities....being all out of whack

We're having all manner of bad weather in Middle Tennessee this afternoon. I'm reading, and I'm listening to the TV, which is showing today's Tropicana 400 NASCAR race. And we've had myriad thunderstorm warnings, but WSMV, channel 4 has been waiting until commercial breaks to update viewers on the weather situation.

The funniest update, though, came a few minutes ago. It began not with the weatherlady giving out information, but with her admonishing all the NASCAR fans who'd called the station, asking why the race was being interrupted. She said: "Let me remind you that we are not interrupting the race. We are broadcasting during the commercial breaks. You don't need to call us."

Well, currently, a couple of counties south of here are under tornado warning. Which completely warrants breaking into coverage of the NASCAR race. In the course of my writing this, WSMV has gone to a split screen, with weather in the big split and the race on the bottom screen.

But, apparently, WSMV is still being inundated with angry calls.

I love NASCAR fans. If only I had that kind of dangerous loyalty. Willing to brave hellacious weather and fiery damnations in order to make sure Dale Jr. is still running good.

I worked with a guy named Larry. The straw that broke the camel's back in Larry's first marriage was an argument over racer Rusty Wallace.

Update: Wow! I wish they were showing the race on the big screen. Bobby Labonte's car just crashed and was engulfed in fire! FIRE, y'all!!!!

Now do you understand why I watch?

This would set me to pillaging

If I lived in New York, this would kinda piss me off. Not because I'm real big on drinking in public (recent citations to the contrary not withstanding), but because I despise rich people so much. With their wine and their owning their own homes.

I saw the link on Tainted Bill, who spins it Baseball style for me.
Top 10 Town Names (North America) that I bet you've never heard of:

10. Pig's Knuckle, Kansas
9. Living-in-Sin, Vermont
8. Douchebag, Texas
7. Sourdick, Montana
6. Leon Spinks, Manitoba, Canada
5. Boobsville, Georgia
4. Autobot City, Mississippi
3. Tinker Toy, Tennessee
2. Thbpbpbpbpbpbpbp, New Mexico
1. Bull Shannon's House, New Jersey

Saturday, July 12, 2003

League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

I've spent the better part of the last 15 minutes trying write a cogent, well-thought-through review of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

But I'm not smart enough.

I'll say that very rarely do I get so self-righteous that I'm offended by a movie. But League really insulted me. Partly because I really enjoyed Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill's original comic series. But mostly because I'm able to see plot holes. Especially ones big enough to drive a huge-ass submarine from London to Paris through.

Can I just ask if I look grotesquely stupid? Can I not be expected to understand the concept of an invisible man?

Let me just get this straight: The guy is sneaking around in a submarine taking daguerreotype photos with the magnesium flashpans, and nobody notices?

All in all, League is a disappointment. Mainly because Alan Moore's original source material is so good. Among the best comic stuff out there. I recommend you pick it up and give it a look. It's not your typical comic book.

It's disappointing because James Robinson, a decent comic writer in his own right, adapted it for the screen. If anyone should have respected the source, then it should have been Robinson.

Mainly, it's a disappointment because there are so many good comic books out there that wouldn't make bad movies. But when a studio takes the really good ones and turn them into bullshit flicks like League, it makes it less and less likely that the really good properties will get made.

And here's the thing: since the success of the X-Men and Spider-Man movies, the rights to a lot of stuff have been snatched up. I feel like the really good ones will now languish in limbo, while studios pass them by because people were so turned off by this garbage flick, but hold onto the rights just the same.

In the end. Save your ships. Save yourself. Avoid League at All Costs!
Convicted Child Murderer Seeks Caring Person for Pen Pal Fun!

Susan Smith wants a pen pal, apparently.

"I love rainbows, Mickey Mouse, the beach, mountains and waterfalls," Smith's ad reads. "I consider myself to be sensitive, caring and kind-hearted. I'm currently serving a life sentence on the charge of murder."

Friday, July 11, 2003

Tim Burton/Willie Wonka

You know, Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory really is one of the best movies ever made. And if you say different, I'll fight you.

What's more, I don't know how Tim Burton can improve upon it? He turned Planet of the Apes into a turd. My friend Alex mentioned that for some directors, that one would have been a Career Killer.
Friday Five Time in Big Stupid Tommy Land

Playing along:

1. Do you remember your first best friend? Who was it?

The Incredible Hulk. He was invisible, and could sometimes turn into a bumblebee. We played in a mud puddle one time, but mostly sat in the back of my parents' old yellow pickup truck and talked shop.

2. Are you still in touch with this person?

One night, a couple of years ago, I got a phone call. Real late at night. Like 2:30 in the morning late. And I picked up the phone, and said hello? There were voices yelling in another language. I think it was Portuguese. And there was glass breaking and (I think) a gunshot or two. I said "hello" again, and a voice, really far away, like it was talking through a garden hose, said "Fallen so far. I've" There were some sobs, and the line went dead.

3. Do you have a current close friend?


4. How did you become friends with this person?

Cellmates in Turkish Prison. I say cellmates, but there were about 50 of us in that hole. But the two of us made it through because we both knew the theme song to Golden Girls inside and out.

5. Is there a friend from your past that you wish you were still in contact with? Why?


There was a cryptic message the answering machine one night from a feller I went to high school with, saying that he was in-state. But he never left a return address or phone number. He always had a unique way of looking at things.

There's a friend from college I really miss. After she got engaged, I didn't hear much from her. I haven't heard from her at all in a couple of years. She was one of the first friends I made all on my own up in college (in case you haven't noticed, I'm painfully shy, dammit).

Davey Jones? He never calls. He's got Monkee Business to attend to.

And, of course, I never got to say goodbye to Buddy Ebsen. I've been down all week about it.

I was bored. So I searched Big Stupid Tommy on Google.

Here was the most entertaining resulting find.

Thursday, July 10, 2003

And she can vote.

Found the link via Give War a Chance:

A grown woman had to be rescued by emergency services after she tried to make a magic potion, in order to be more like Harry Potter. Read the whole story.
In Which Big Stupid Tommy also writes for another blog....

My father's complaint about my blog is that I talk about pro wrestling too much. Just because everything in my life revolves around, is related to and can be connected within two steps to professional wrestling, I'm being condemned for it. There's lots of entertaining, enlightening stuff on my blog.

Like that time I talked about being locked out of a toilet at McDonald's?

Or how about that time I asked about whether somebody throwing the Famous Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest would be referred to as a weiner-shaving scandal?

And then there's my list of all the Hardee's I've ever eaten in.
And I talk about the Chicago Cubs a lot more than I do wrestling.

But as such, I'll be limiting my pro-wrestling thoughts on this page. I've joined TNA-Thoughts. You can read my inner-most pro-wrestling thoughts (at least as they pertain to the NWA-TNA, the Nashville based promotion) there. My Dad joined us for last night's show, by the way. I think he enjoyed it, even if it was a just a so/so showing.

One of the great things about NWA-TNA is the relative lack of crazy theatrics. It's 85, 90% in the ring. And I think Dad liked it in that respect. As much as one can like watching guys pretend to fight.

Wednesday, July 09, 2003

Potty Problems

This is why people suck.

Some sumbitch at McDonald's thought that it would be funny to lock the toilet stall from the inside, and then leave the stall empty. So when Big Stupid Tommy is nearing an explosive incident, he can't make it into the toilet.

I made it through without soiling myself. However. To the person who played that little prank: There's a special place in Hell for you, buddy.
Over at Inn of the Last Home, Barry tells a somewhat disturbing story. It made me shake me head. I guess I'm sheltered and ignorant. But isn't 2003 the future? And shouldn't even the cretins be more enlightened than this?

Is that so stupid?
Today's Funny

You probably think I've talked too much about baseball lately.

Well...I don't think I've talked enough about baseball lately.

But, to lighten the mood:

Three baseball fans were on their way to a game when one noticed a foot sticking out of the bushes by the side of the road. They stopped and discovered a nude female dead drunk.

Out of respect and propriety, the Cubs fan took off his cap and placed it over her right breast. The Red Sox fan took off his cap and placed it over her left breast. Following their lead, the Yankee fan took off his cap and placed it over her crotch.

The police were called and when the officer arrived, he conducted his inspection. First, he lifted up the Cubs cap, replaced it, and wrote down some notes. Next, he lifted the Sox cap, replaced it, and wrote down some more notes. The officer then lifted the Yankees cap, replaced it, then lifted it again, replaced it, lifted it a third time, and replaced it one last time.

The Yankee fan was getting upset and finally asked, "What are you, a pervert or something? Why do you keep lifting and looking, lifting and looking?"

Well," said the officer. "I am simply surprised. Normally when I look under a Yankees hat, I find an asshole."

Thanks, folks. I'm here all week.
Big Stupid Tommy's Southern Translation Service

Here's a link to that story about the guy, Terry Wallis, who was basically comatose for the past couple of decades who suddenly began to speak recently. And he wasn't entirely comatose. He was responsive and alert, I guess, for a few years.

But he did suddenly begin speaking.

What I would like to draw your attention to in the story is the quote from the boy's mother, Angilee, about about a third of the way through the story.

In the story, Terry has just spoken when asked a question by the nurse. Here's Angilee's quote:

"He just said, 'Mom,'" Angilee said. "I like to fell over."

You know, I've heard the phrase "I like to fell over" a couple of times in my life, and I think I've even seen in a story, probably by James Agee or Flannery O'Connor. For the unwashed, it is simply an expression of surprise.

I will admit that it did take me a half a second to let my mind reconcile the writing style of the news story's writer with Angilee's speech patterns.

And don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to ridicule Terry's mother. She talks like just about everybody in Riceville, Tennessee talks. It's what I've grown up with.

It's just odd for me to try to switch codes like that, especially in a news story. I don't know that it was the best quote that CNN could have used for the story, especially in this day where Southern still equals Not as Smart in the eyes of many.

Here's a boring story:

I was in a Grammar class in my third or fourth year of school at MTSU. And I opined in a paper that Southern English was just as viable a language as Black English/Ebonics. I wasn't bashing Ebonics, necessarily. I truly felt (and still do) that if Ebonics is getting credit as a lingual pattern, then Southern English should likewise be studied as such. I had quotes and sources and citations and everything to back me up.

However. Not only did I not get a good grade on the paper, when I went to discuss the grade with the professor, whose pet cause was Ebonics, I got a pretty good dressing down. Apparently, she thought I was trying to insult her by associating her vaunted Black English with the low speak of us Southerners.

Ultimately, I've decided that I like Anglilee's quote. Even if I like to fell down when I saw it.

Also, Terry, the kid who was comatose, has become a bit of a horndog in his time under.
The Sounds Lose! Big Stupid Tommy Wins!

For the second time in three days, I hit a Nashville Sounds game at Comparatively Lovely Greer Stadium. Tonight, I went with my Dad, who's up in Murfreesboro to show the inner workings of new handheld devices Mayfield's routemen use in their daily travels.

We got to the stadium a little before game time. We both got bratwurst for supper, and we snacked on peanuts over the course of the game.

It doesn't matter how long I've been going to baseball games. I still am not satisfied with my skills at shelling the roasted, salted peanut. I think I drop between fifteen and twenty percent of the peanuts as I'm crushing open the shell. Which is a problem because my natural instinct revolves around the "five-second rule." Generally, I'm able to stop myself, remembering that I am at a rather poorly kept minor league baseball stadium.

The Sounds got spanked. They were playing the New Orleans Zephyrs, the AAA affiliate of the Houston Astros. Ryan Vogelsong pitched for the Sounds, and he did well early on, getting strikeouts for seven of the first nine outs. But I'm thinking they figured his stuff out, because they scored four off him in the fourth and another three in the fifth.

Here's the part where I win!

In the seventh inning, Tony Alvarez steps up to the plate. He takes a strike, and then kind of bloop fouls a ball over behind first base. Luckily for me and my Dad, we were stationed about eight rows up behind first base. The ball makes a slow, looping arch. It goes over the outstretched hands of about five fans and lands in the aisle right behind us. It rolls behind my seat. And I snag it! And I didn't even have to get up!

Actually, it was a smaller crowd than I thought there'd be. And about 20 people got foul balls over the course of the night.

But that doesn't diminish it.

Big Stupid Tommy gets a foul ball.

And I ignored the cries of the little children: "Let me have the ball!"

Actually, there were no cries from the little children. Except for one little smartass about four rows down, and he was quickly cuffed by his father for being obstinate. I almost gave the ball to the father...I was so proud.

It's a typical ball. There's a black mark just above the Rawlings Logo, where the bat struck the ball. There's a blue mark directly opposite the Pacific Coast League logo, where I assume the ball took a little paint off the steps.

Oh yeah...the final score of the game was 8-2. From the Sounds recap:

New Orleans knuckleballer Jared Fernandez (6-8) lost his shutout bid with two outs in the ninth inning. Nashville’s two-out rally started with singles by Rob Mackowiak and Aaron Holbert. Humberto Cota followed with a double into the left-field corner to score both runners. Z’s reliever Rob Stanifer came in to record the final out.

You can read the whole text of the recap here.

So, in closing: I got a foul ball! I'm rather happy.

Do you want to know the best part? The smell. It has a nice, leathery, new baseball smell.

My baseball smells good.

Tuesday, July 08, 2003

Here is the wedding gift registry for World Wrestling Entertainment Heiress Stephanie McMahon and Paul Levesque (aka WWE Superstar Triple H).
The Real Reason I Dislike Michael Savage

Just so we're clear on things.

I don't like Savage's politics. I don't like his show. I don't like his venom.

But this baseball season, WGNS 1450 here in Murfreesboro will wait for Savage Nation to go off before switching to the Atlanta Braves broadcast. So you're joining the game two or three innings in.

Not to invalidate anything else I've said. But he messed with my baseball. He and the programmers at WGNS.

Some things in this life are just wrong. You gotta take a stand.

Monday, July 07, 2003

Corey Patterson

I guess I should note, too, that the Cubs' Corey Patterson's gonna be out for the season. We were having thundershowers yesterday during the Cubs game. The electricity blinked during Corey's at bat. And when it came back on, Corey was writhing in pain at first base, holding the knee.

Now he's out for the year. Partially torn ACL, if I heard right.

Here's what I think: Turn this situation into a positive, if it can be molded suchly. I felt like the Cubs had a log jam in the outfield. No table-setters has been my argument for them this whole year. They lose a lot of games 5-4 after they've hit 4 solo home runs. Nobody knows how to get on base or manufacture a run, it seems.

Now we have this opening in the outfield. See how many teams out there are willing to trade off a good leadoff man who can play center. The Marlins were looking to trade Lowell early on. They've backed off that proposition...but where does Juan Pierre's contract stand? What about Jenkins in Milwaukee? He's not a prototypical leadoff guy, but he gets on base and is a fairly patient hitter. He's a situational hitter, at any rate, and he's always struck me as a guy who can adapt. I think a Jenkins/Grudzielanek/Alou top of the order might work.

Ah, well. I'm running at the mouth.

Just make it into an opportunity.
Okay, now we can ignore Michael Savage

Michael Savage got canned by MSNBC for calling a caller a "Sodomite."

Good. I'm all for free speech, but this guy's brand of poison is rather sickening. The fewer outlets he has to spew his venom, the better, as far as I'm concerned.

The problem is all the coverage. Hell, I'm talking about him. I saw the link above (or similar links) at four different sites. (I got the one above from Warren Ellis' Die Puny Humans, and I think SKBubba linked to the same). And since we talk about his getting shitcanned, there are going to be people who want to see and listen to this guy whom "they aren't letting you listen to."

As far as I'm concerned, this guy is perfect fodder for "the List." Except that he's not even going to give him that kind of attention. It's fun to ignore Rob Schneider and Spike Lee, but their exploits are up for debate (I kind of like Spike's early stuff, just not his politics of late). See, Schneider and Lee annoy me. Michael Savage is dangerous. To spew that kind of hate, yet still be viewed as a relevant political commentator. It's not fun to ignore Michael Savage, it's just necessary.

So. He's not going up on the vaunted list. Because he doesn't even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Rob Schneider.

Just ignore him. And he, like all the other Hitler Youth, will give himself stomach cancer and fade away.
A typical conversation around casa de Big Stupid Tommy

This is how it went. At least, this is how I remember it. Hey! I've got a degree in Journalism! You must listen to me!

Me: What is that smell?

Bill: Probably my lunch in the microwave

Me: Are you cooking garbage out of the trashcan?

Bill: It's a Vegi-Burger.

Me: (un-impressed) Oh.

(And then Later)

Bill: It doesn't taste much better

Me: I wouldn't think so.

Bill: It kind of tastes like compost.
Legally Blonde

My friend Stephanie Denton is featured in today's USA Today. She was also just interviewed on a segment on CBS' Early Show.

She's one of a few blonde attorneys asked to review Legally Blonde 2.

We went to high school together. McMinn County High School class of 1995. She was a valedictorian. I was not.

Sure...she's an attorney. But who's the one with the Goofy-Ass Webpage? Huh?

What if I got an e-mail from about a dozen people I went to high school with giving the link to Stephanie's much higher quality Goofy-Ass Webpage?
R.I.P. Uncle Jed

I call for an International Day of Mourning.

Actor Buddy Ebsen passed away today.

Sunday, July 06, 2003

More Baseball Thoughts

Julie, Jason and I hit a Nashville Sounds game tonight. The Sounds won 7-1 on the strength of John Wasdin's pitching and a couple of timely homers, including a monster shot to center by Randall Simon, who's down from the Pirates on rehab.

We got free tickets. That was awesome! A Little League team (or other such group) had three extra and they gave them to us. I felt like Blanche from Streetcar.

I ate a bratwurst. And a hot dog. And I had a beer. And I didn't have to pay a $50 fine to do it.

Julie ate cotton candy and Jason ate ice cream out of a tiny baseball helmet.

And we were all much calmer afterward. Baseball is very soothing.

Except for the All-Star teams.

I just saw the rosters for the All-Star game, to be played July 15th.

Not good, which is typical of Bud Selig and his contrivances. Not terrible, but definitely not good.

On the American League squad: You cannot tell me that Lance Carter deserves to be the Devil Rays' representative over Rocco Baldelli. And though I hate Frank Thomas, he's having a decent year. And for neither he nor Magglio Ordonez to make the A.L. squad to play in their home park is a little sad for White Sox fans.

This new selection process kind of sucks, I think. The only way this method will work properly is if we abolish the rule where every team has to be represented. Let's make it so that the only team required to be represented is the team hosting the game.

Also: that stuff where Hideki Matsui of the Yankees is voted to start the game is absolute bullcrap. And you can't even call it the stupidity of the fans, unless you're calling the entire nation of Japan stupid. I hate to make it an us vs. them thing, but all of Japan was voting for Ichiro and Matsui, while America was voting for Ichiro and about 12 other people.

But ultimately, it's a fan thing, and it's simply a popularity contest, and there's no sense arguing the winner of a popularity contest.

On the senior circuit: I'm not that impressed with the National League's squad, either. I realize that Dusty and MLB (like Scoscia on the A.L. side) were handcuffed by the selection process and that pesky rule that each team be represented. But neither Armando Benitez nor Mike Williams is an All-Star.

As for the thing where you go to and do the E-Topps voting for the 32nd man, I suggest voting for Corey Patterson in the N.L. and Frank Thomas on the A.L. side. I'd never have thought I'd say vote for Thomas, but the SouthSiders are hosting the event. Give 'em some love.

Saturday, July 05, 2003

I hate what Phil Mushnick does. He's one of those self-righteous sunsaguns who doesn't believe anybody can think for themselves. He knows that everybody's biggest enemy is themselves. He doesn't include himself among those ranks.

He hates wrestling. Violence in movies. And he's not big on the whole people responsibly consuming alcohol. He thinks people are just accidents waiting to happen. I generally ignore him, but the headline caught my eye, in this article published in the July 4 Online Edition of the New York Post:



July 4, 2003 -- LIQUID Gold: According to local beer industry sources, the Mets' and Yanks' concessionaires purchase half-kegs in bulk for approximately $29 per half-keg, roughly half the cost charged to bars and restaurants. Each half-keg holds 1,984 ounces, or 124 16-ounce servings.

So, if the teams sell 16-ounce servings for about $6.50, which they do, the profit over the initial purchase price of each half-keg begins when the fifth beer is sold and that profit, per half-keg, is nearly $800.

And that's why, regardless of the escalation of brew-fueled episodes of incivility at ballparks and arenas, those who call for the ban of beer sales are wasting their breath, ink and time.

I understand Mr. Mushnick's reasoning behind publishing this story. He's trying to make Major League Baseball and the Owners of the Yankees and Mets out to be bad guys: They Cheat You! He does this so that you won't want to attend their baseball games.

But here's what bugs me. I've never done the math before. Holy Crap! $800!?!?! For a $29 keg?

Don't tell me the owners aren't making money!

That little guy from the Land of the Rising Sun won the Famous Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest again. Read about it here.

A long time ago, I made a post wondering about these contests, and if they were ever thrown for purposes of gambling.

Or what if wars were settled over battle of competitive consumption?

Also, I pondered just how many hot dogs I could eat in such a contest. Especially if I were being threatened. Or if my family were being threatened.

But Blogger ate that post.

It was good, though.

But my point is: We need to work on getting this title back. America! I nominate Jennifer Aniston.
Here's the Day I'm Having

Have you ever sat down to do something? It could be anything.

Write. Watch TV. Pay Bills. Talk to a Midget. Read a book.

And you sit down with a beverage. You drink your tasty beverage. And in doing the things that you're doing, it takes longer to do it than it does to drink one tasty beverage.

You say to yourself: I'd like another tasty beverage.

But you neglect to take the empty can from the first tasty beverage, in this case a Diet Pepsi, to the trash. When you sit back down, and you open up your second Diet Pepsi, you realize that you are now sitting in front of the computer with two open Diet Pepsi cans. One of them is full and cool. The other, is empty, and it mocks.

And you write your funny little stories (or pay bills or talk to midgets) and over the course of time, you go to take a sip of your tasty Diet Pepsi.

And every time you do so, without fail, instead of grabbing the ice cold mostly full can, you grab the empty can of Diet Pepsi. They are sitting one next to the other on the table in front of you. It's an honest mistake.

But a feeling of anger washes over you. You begin to question yourself: Why didn't I just throw this can away? and Why don't I throw it away now? But being the Instant Satisfaction Child of the 80's that you are, before you throw the empty can into the wastebasket (which is seven painful feet away), you grab the full can of Diet Pepsi, and take a drink of it.

And really, when you think about it, your mind can only handle one thing at a time. And by the time you've taken a sip of the cool and refreshing Diet Pepsi, you are instantly sated. So refreshed and relieved by the Diet Pepsi are you, that you've forgotten that milliseconds ago, you were Mad as Hell and Not Going to Take It Anymore!

And you set the slightly less full can of Diet Pepsi down on the table, next to the empty can.

And so the cycle continues. For as long as it takes to drink that second Diet Pepsi. Until you've managed to drink every drop in the second can. But you're forgetful. And you write, and go to get a drink of Diet Pepsi.

And there's nothing in the first can. Anger and resentment follow. You pick up the second can.

Stupid, impotent, yet, all-encompassing rage hits you like a mallet. You've managed to trick yourself! Not Once! Oh no!

You've tricked yourself twice! (Or as my close, personal friend Flannery O'Connor once wrote: Twicet)

That's the kind of day today's been.
Bring Me the Head of Mark Grudzielanek

And the liver of Lenny Harris.

If I ever, ever see the Cubs leadoff man swing at the first pitch again, so help me Jeebus! Does it make you wonder why there were three solo home runs hit? Home runs are great, but I like them to have a bunch of people on base when you hit them. Makes them mean so much more.

And why do we have Lenny Harris playing at all? How many errors?

Oh, my stars and garters! See...I'm not going to get on Kerry Wood for having a bad day. Even the best of them are going to come out tired. I'm disappointed for him, because I think this hurts his chances of making the All Star team.

But we need to see more consistency on the fielding and batting sides of the ball. It is possible to be smart and aggressive.

Now, it's dangerously possible that they might go 42-120.

Friday, July 04, 2003


Hey! I'm all for celebrating America and all its freedoms.

But could we pass laws against setting off fireworks at 3:30 AM?

The problem is that the apartment complex I live in is arranged roughly in a ring, and all those flat surfaces reflect sound remarkably well. I don't know how it works, but the circlular shape forms a funnel, and any time a firecracker explodes outside, it channels the sound directly into my ear.
I'm so Stupid

A week and a half ago, I made an impassioned plea for you to go read the Neo-Whig Manifesto. It professes to be the smart party for smart people.

And in my infinite smartness, I managed to not link to the site. I thought I had, but I didn't put the link in the quotes and as such, if anybody clicked on it, they came to the top of the page. Which is some slaw.

Mea Culpa. But the site is called Big Stupid Tommy.

However, I have linked to the Neo-Whig Manifesto four or five times in this post alone. Go read it.

Thursday, July 03, 2003

The World's Most Unusual Store

I saw a transfer truck this morning while out job hunting. It was from Dollar Store. And it said that Dollar Store was "the World's Most Unusual Store."

Not to pick nits, but Imbalanced Abe's House of Spitoons and Cotton Candy was the most unusual store I've ever been in.

And Bill's idea for a restaurant called "Cheddar Bacon" might qualify, if he follows through with his idea to have his restaurant inside an ambandoned warehouse, and to also give haircuts. To those that want them.
Browsing the Rocky Top Brigade

Just a few things that I enjoyed when looking around the Rocky Top Brigade:

Say Uncle goes shopping. I'm just glad I don't have a pantry.

Over on One Hand Clapping, they're looking at their military options. I remember the ASVAB. And I score in the 99th percentile, and I couldn't get the military to stop calling the house. The Air Force was particularly interested in my coding scores. The recruiter said he'd never seen canybody get them all done and correct. Best of luck over there.
Gud Grammer

Part of it is that I don't actually proofread what I write. Another part is that I write everything pretty much stream-of-consciousness-style, letting it flow out my fingers as it falls out my head.

But still, it's a little annoying to be writing one post, look down at the previous post, and see an egregious grammatical error such as writing: "And then get a ice water."

Here's what's daunting about that to me:

I am not a good college student, and never was. Here's how I have written almost every paper in my college career.

1.) Paper is due (for instance) Wednesday at 11 AM.

2.) Sunday night, realize that paper is due Wednesday. Keep watching Simpsons.

3.) Monday night, realize that paper is due Wednesday. Keep watching Monday Night Raw.

4.) Tuesday morning, realize that paper is due Wednesday. Look at syllabus and "class notes" and see what paper has to be on. Think about thesis while sitting on the crapper.

5.) Tuesday afternoon. For about five minutes, wonder why I'm such a bad student.

6.) Tuesday evening, sit down at computer and write thesis statement. If I'm feeling froggy, I'll write the whole opening paragraph.

7.) Tuesday night, go to bed.

8.) Wednesday morning, 5:30 AM. Get up. Make pot of coffee. Go on writing session. Write paper in roughly two hours (depending on paper length). Get up, take shower.

9. Wednesday morning, 9:00 AM. Go proofread the paper. Disregard the fact that you're still close enough to the writing and it's still fresh in your mind and you'll miss any typographical errors.

10.) Wednesday morning, 11:00 AM. Turn paper in. Stomach churns slightly in case professor can smell the bullshit wafting off the paper.

11.) The Next Wednesday: Get paper back. Grade: A-.

And that's the typical schedule. Move the clock back a ways if it's a night class.

My biggest success story? I had a Folklore class about four years ago...heh...And the final project was worth about 40% of the final grade. And my interviews fell apart in the last of the storytellers I was set to interview actually had a massive coronary a couple of hours before I was going to interview them.

So I had to find a subject and link everything to my professor's pet theory about the Modern American Myth.

And I used Adams, Tennessee's Bell Witch as my subject, and over the course of a 24 hour period, starting Tuesday night and ending about three hours before 6 o'clock classtime, I read, found articles, linked everything together using the criteria set up by the professor for his own pet theory, and wrote a 20 page paper.

Twenty pages.

I went a little mad that day.

And you want to talk about worrying. I was praying hard, guys. Please Jesus...if you get me through this, I'll turn over a completely new leaf....Please Jesus.

We go to class next week, and Professor Wolfe gives a huge long lecture about how disappointed he was in the class. How it doesn't seem like anybody gave themselves any time at all to do their projects. He even had suspicions that a couple of folks had even made up the stuff they'd used in their research. He wasn't thrilled that as many people used internet sources as they did.

My heart, the whole time he was speechifying, was pounding. And with that last statement, I about had a stroke. See, one of the facets of Dr. Wolfe's whole American Myth criterion collection was that a story shifts over time. That's not his idea, it's a given. And I was using the internet to show how much a story can shift, even after it's been written down someplace else. I was positing that the internet is largely an extension of the old oral tradition. My whole argument would have been destroyed by the fact that when you write something down, it's permanent. I was saying that it's just an extension of the oral tradition, though by using something written down as evidence, I was putting myself up as an example of Dr. Wolfe's argument against the internet. When you go back to something written down, you give it creedence.

It's not my argument, it's his.

But I digress.

Dr. Wolfe goes to hand back the papers. He hands me mine, and pats me on the shoulder. I was crestfallen. I'd taken the pat as "good try, but I'm smarter than that."

I open the paper, and read through it. There are the obligatory little red marks. He's underlined a couple of things. But he's made no comments. Dr. Wolfe was huge on writing red comments on papers.

And I make it to the back of the paper. And here is what was written:

"I enjoyed your paper immensely. You obviously did an incredible amount of research. You used excellent sources of information when citing the internet, but your legwork with the written word is astounding. I looked at a couple of your sources and I actually plan on using them in a piece of work of my own. This is first rate work, Mr. Acuff."

And written in a big letter at the bottom: "A+."

I almost dropped a load in my pants right there.

But here's the funny part. If you're still with me.

I sat down that night to read through the paper. And it was pretty good, if I say so myself. But as I'm reading somewhere along the thirteenth or fourteenth page, I read a paragraph. And here's the sentence I found:

"...this things all combined with Charlse Bell's account that he wrote himself establish several viable written resources that a researcher might use."

"This things?" "he wrote himself?"

I also mispelled on of my principle source's names.

That's bad enough.

But here's the kicker. The paragraph that this line appears in? It appears twice in the paper. I'd gone to cut and paste the paragraph, moving it down in the paper. Well...I'd pasted it. But I hadn't cut it. I'd copied it.

In my first rate work.


My point? My educators never corrected me, and gave me good praise even when I wrote utter tripe.

You should likewise pay no attention to either the grammatical makeup of my page, nor its content, and do your best to be dazzled by the B.S., and let my true intent soak through to your brain via osmosis.

Hey, I have a college degree.

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

In Which TDOT makes an enemy of BST

You know, I really enjoy living in the great state of Tennessee. But I gotta tell ya, the Tennessee Department of Transportation (TDOT, for the unwashed) has a bad habit of closing roads, bridges and exit ramps without warning. But never before did it become such a problem, as when they closed the access to the Rest Area on top of Monteagle Mountain this afternoon.

We can add another Hardee's to my list of Hardee's in Tennessee visited: Across from Northgate Mall in Chattanooga, when I stopped to take a whiz in their toilet, and then get an ice water. Well, they wanted to charge for ice water, so I said just give me a large coke.

Little did I know that they served their large cokes in five-gallon trashcans.

The 40 ounces or so of soda only needed the short trip from Chattanooga to Monteagle to complete the tour of my digestive tract. My bladder's the size of a coffee cup, so you can see my problem.

There were no signs. There were no warnings. I just rode along, looking anxiously forward to the time when I might be able to empty my bladder in the relative safety of a rest area urinal. Then, what to my wandering eyes should appear? A big sign right on the ramp to the rest area that said: Rest Area Closed. And they were paving the ramp and the parking lot. There were a few of those orange barrels set up. There was a guy standing in the grass leaning on his rake. With mocking eyes.

I made it to Altamont. Where I peed at an Exxon station.

But I'm driving the folks' truck this week. What if I'd ruined the upholstry?

Tuesday, July 01, 2003

Vote. It's your Duty

I command ye, my loyal legions of winged monkeys and intelligent alligators:

Go to

Click to Vote for the All Star Team!

And Vote: For Bret Boone. For Javy Lopez. For Corey Patterson. For Gary Sheffield.

Do not, under any circumstances, under penalty of Luke Bushwhacker Underarm Torture, vote for a New York Yankee or a Cardinal of St. Louis. Lo, I care not that Albert the Pujols is a legitimate Triple Crown threat, nor that It is Debatable that Bret Boone is having a better year than Alfonso "God's Gift" Soriano.

Brought to you by the Commission to Give Corey Patterson Some Respect.

Don't hate the Playa. Hate the Yankees.
Maybe the Cubs....

Maybe since we're out of June, they'll stop this ridiculous swoon of theirs. Maybe we'll get Big Choi back and he'll start producing runs. Maybe we'll trade for a closer, or perhaps a leadoff hitter. Maybe Dusty will stop being overly aggressive, and as a by-product, third base coach Wendell Kim will stop running the Cubbies out of innings.

Maybe the Cubs will learn to manufacture a run.

Maybe Sammy will break out of this slump.

Maybe Corey Patterson will get some respect and rank somewhere in the top 15 in All Star voting.

Maybe some kind soul will make themselves my patron. And pay me. For my art. So that I might afford a trek up to Wrigley.

Maybe the rest of the N.L. Central will stay mired in the slump they all seem to suffer from, and maybe the Cubs will go on a win 9 out of 11 tear, and put themselves up 4 games.

Maybe Albert Pujols will break a leg, and the tandem of Williams and Morris will develop a severe agoraphobia, and will no longer be able to pitch, and the Cardinals will fall out of contention.

Maybe the Reds will forget how to hit.

Maybe the Astros will develop a collective sty on their left eyes (or right, if they're lefties), and that'll keep them from hitting in Enron. Or maybe Atlantis will rise up in the Gulf, invade Houston and the Astros will have to be drafted into service against the Atlantean Overlords.

But I'd be impressed if the Cubs could just score some runs. Jose Hernandez is not the answer. He's only struck out something like 11 times already in the service of the Cubs and driven in how many runs? Zero? Do I hear Zero!?!?!?!!!

It's frustrating. But then, you'd think I'd be used to it.