Number two: Fireworks
Number three: Big trucks
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Things That Still Fascinate Me Even Though I'm Almost 30
Number one: Helicopters
Number two: Fireworks
Number three: Big trucks
Number two: Fireworks
Number three: Big trucks
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Jesus Don't Want Me For An Album Cover
Why do I feel like Kurt Cobain would be totally ok with this?
Saturday, June 23, 2007
The Shortstop
I was at the Mets game last night with my homeboy Wallace and he wondered aloud what was the etymology of the term "shortstop" in baseball. I didn't know, and I was still wondering this morning, so I did some research.
I'm still not sure the answer is all that clear to me, but as best as I understand it it's a term that's left over from when baseball evolved from cricket. All the other positions are self explanatory. The cather catches, the outfielders cover the outer field, and so on. Pitching has become a verb, so the picher is the one who pitches. This evolved from the area in cricket between the wickets being known as the "pitch" and so it's just a small logical leap from being on the pitch to becoming the pitcher.
But shortstop doesn't make any sense. It doesn't really fit, nor does it really explain itself well. In cricket the guys are all over the field and have position names that don't really match any in baseball. The one exception is that in cricket there is a guy called a "long stop" who seems to play behind the batter to catch the equivalent of foul balls, though there is no foul territory in cricket. There is also a spot on the field called the "short" position, which is closer to the batter than the long position. It seems like there could be a position called "short stop" who just plays closer to the batter than the "long stop", but as best as I can tell, the guy who plays that position is called a "slip". Look at this picture, and it might make more sense to you.
Anyhow, I guess there is conceivably a position called "short stop" in cricket, and I assume that's where the term comes from, but the evidence is shaky at best. Anyone else want to weigh in on this?
I'm still not sure the answer is all that clear to me, but as best as I understand it it's a term that's left over from when baseball evolved from cricket. All the other positions are self explanatory. The cather catches, the outfielders cover the outer field, and so on. Pitching has become a verb, so the picher is the one who pitches. This evolved from the area in cricket between the wickets being known as the "pitch" and so it's just a small logical leap from being on the pitch to becoming the pitcher.
But shortstop doesn't make any sense. It doesn't really fit, nor does it really explain itself well. In cricket the guys are all over the field and have position names that don't really match any in baseball. The one exception is that in cricket there is a guy called a "long stop" who seems to play behind the batter to catch the equivalent of foul balls, though there is no foul territory in cricket. There is also a spot on the field called the "short" position, which is closer to the batter than the long position. It seems like there could be a position called "short stop" who just plays closer to the batter than the "long stop", but as best as I can tell, the guy who plays that position is called a "slip". Look at this picture, and it might make more sense to you.
Anyhow, I guess there is conceivably a position called "short stop" in cricket, and I assume that's where the term comes from, but the evidence is shaky at best. Anyone else want to weigh in on this?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
Well said, sir
In lieu of some repetetive Mets rule/yankees suck crap, I think this picture says it all.
Friday Classic Video: We're back, baby
Thanks to Chuck for putting up those two (lame-ass) videos the previous two weeks. I just hadn't seen anything new that blew my skirt up.
This one is an oldie but a goodie.
This one is an oldie but a goodie.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Halcyon
First of all, halcyon has about 5 different definitions. It can really mean anything you want. It can alternately mean calm, prosperous, carefree, joyful, or refer to a mythical bird. Anyway, I decided on a whim this morning to listen to "Crash" by Dave Matthews Band. I haven't listened to that whole album in years and when I put it on I had a literal visceral reaction. I don't recall having that type of reaction to music since I was 17 and this album came out. It was strange in an unexpected way. It wasn't like hearing a song you love and thinking, "Wow, I love this song" (like when I hear "Don't Stop Believing" the Journey classic. I know what you're asking yourself, Side Bar, and the answer is no, I will never let this go.) Anyway, this post isn't about a Dave Matthews album that none of you like, just about the feeling.
I was immediately brought back to my senior year of high school and I was just thinking about how awesome that year was. It wasn't quite nostalgia, but I guess that's the best word for it. I guess another piece of the puzzle is that all the seniors at my school are graduating and I've been signing lots of yearbooks recently and asking them what they're going to be in life and such (for the record they're all going to Queens College or Queensboro Community College or LaGuardia Community College).
So the question really is, why do all of us generally look back at those times as the best of our lives? This is hardly a deep thought, nor is it a hard answer, but I never really thought about it until just now. The reason my senior year of high school was one of the times I look back on with such joy is because the ratio of freedom to responsibility was enormously high. The combination of having a drivers license, access to a car, a minimal amount of school work and essentially no responsibility at home (even though I had more than most at that point) leads to being able to do anything I wanted within minutes of thinking of it. Add to that the fact that I'm not hard to please, and it's a recipe for happiness. Today I wouldn't be able to attend every single varsity basketball game at all corners of the state, but in 1996 I did. Today I wouldn't be able to decide to see a 9pm movie at 8:50, but I did a lot of that back then.
And I don't think that was the best year of my life, or the most fulfilling, it was just the most freedom I've had. So it was fun.
Anyway, I don't have a point. Sorry for wasting your time.
I was immediately brought back to my senior year of high school and I was just thinking about how awesome that year was. It wasn't quite nostalgia, but I guess that's the best word for it. I guess another piece of the puzzle is that all the seniors at my school are graduating and I've been signing lots of yearbooks recently and asking them what they're going to be in life and such (for the record they're all going to Queens College or Queensboro Community College or LaGuardia Community College).
So the question really is, why do all of us generally look back at those times as the best of our lives? This is hardly a deep thought, nor is it a hard answer, but I never really thought about it until just now. The reason my senior year of high school was one of the times I look back on with such joy is because the ratio of freedom to responsibility was enormously high. The combination of having a drivers license, access to a car, a minimal amount of school work and essentially no responsibility at home (even though I had more than most at that point) leads to being able to do anything I wanted within minutes of thinking of it. Add to that the fact that I'm not hard to please, and it's a recipe for happiness. Today I wouldn't be able to attend every single varsity basketball game at all corners of the state, but in 1996 I did. Today I wouldn't be able to decide to see a 9pm movie at 8:50, but I did a lot of that back then.
And I don't think that was the best year of my life, or the most fulfilling, it was just the most freedom I've had. So it was fun.
Anyway, I don't have a point. Sorry for wasting your time.
Mets Rant
Ok, so I know I have been accused of a little too much Mets focus on this blog. That's a fair point. We didn't start this blog merely to chronicle the Mets (side note: if we had, we would at best be worthy of a bronze; check out http://www.metsblog.com/, and http://www.yankees2000.com/ for solid Mets "e-zines"), but I can't help it . . . I've got to rant.
What the f*ck? I mean, WHAT THE F*CK?!?!?!
The Mets have lost 5 in a row, 9 of 10, and are simply god awful in June.
I blame everyone.
I can't possibly identify everything wrong with the Mets at this point, so I will focus on the few things that are particularly troublesome right now:
1. Delgado. I warned you. I F*CKING warned you . . . Flag Day is today motherf*cker. I know you've had a few big home runs in the last few weeks, but give me a f*cking break. You're supposed to be a hall of famer. Hey a**hole . . . Dallas called, they want their area code back (side note: sigh . . . I hate that I have to explain this one, but here goes: one of the primary area codes in the Dallas area is (214); the humor is in the fact that Delgado -- who f*cking sucks -- is hardly batting better than .214. Hence, he stole the .214 from Dallas, and they want it back).
2. Beltran. F*ck you. I have been so patient with you and that f*cking mole orbiting your left ear. What? Sorry, I couldn't hear you because I don't speak scrub. What? You feel like you are only at 75%? F*ck you. Kiss my a**. Derek Jeter wouldn't miss a game if he had been in Iraq the day before and had his leg blown off by a motherf*cking IED. You need a day off when you stub your toe. P*ssy. How much are we paying you again? F*ck you. Hit one home run before Gemini sets and Cancer rises and we might talk.
3. The Bench. Willie, I have tried. I swear to f*cking G-d I have tried to keep you out of this. But are you kidding me? Are you f*cking kidding me? Here is what we have to offer off of the bench: Ruben Gotay (puke), Ramon Castro (who isn't that bad, but who we never use on the off chance that the game goes 37 innnings and you need a backup catcher; idiot), Julio Franco (the lunacy of Julio Franco being on this team is worthy of its own post, nay, its own blog, but suffice it to say that Father Time is not the answer in a big spot), Carlos Gomez (too easy), and -- wait, is David Newhan really still in the big leagues? Ugh. F*ck them all. There simply must be -- has to be -- a better pinch hitter available than Julio Franco. Someone call Mike Gray.
Look, the Mets have been fortunate. The Braves have been mailing it in for two weeks, and the Phillies, Nats and Marlins are a joke (interesting run out of the Phils, though). The Mets could be 3 or 4 games out of first, rather than 2 games up, given how they have played this month. Fine. Great. If the Mets clinch the division in September and play ball in October, I will be first in line to cheer them on. But this is bullsh*t, and if they aren't careful, they are going to dig a hole out of which they shouldn't have to, or worse, can't, escape.
Oh and by the way: Easley, Green, LoDuca, Wagner, Heilman, Sosa, Feliciano, Sele, Horowitz, that guy who sells beer in section 12 of the Mezzanine, Wilpon, Milledge, El Duque . . . you all suck too.
What the f*ck? I mean, WHAT THE F*CK?!?!?!
The Mets have lost 5 in a row, 9 of 10, and are simply god awful in June.
I blame everyone.
I can't possibly identify everything wrong with the Mets at this point, so I will focus on the few things that are particularly troublesome right now:
1. Delgado. I warned you. I F*CKING warned you . . . Flag Day is today motherf*cker. I know you've had a few big home runs in the last few weeks, but give me a f*cking break. You're supposed to be a hall of famer. Hey a**hole . . . Dallas called, they want their area code back (side note: sigh . . . I hate that I have to explain this one, but here goes: one of the primary area codes in the Dallas area is (214); the humor is in the fact that Delgado -- who f*cking sucks -- is hardly batting better than .214. Hence, he stole the .214 from Dallas, and they want it back).
2. Beltran. F*ck you. I have been so patient with you and that f*cking mole orbiting your left ear. What? Sorry, I couldn't hear you because I don't speak scrub. What? You feel like you are only at 75%? F*ck you. Kiss my a**. Derek Jeter wouldn't miss a game if he had been in Iraq the day before and had his leg blown off by a motherf*cking IED. You need a day off when you stub your toe. P*ssy. How much are we paying you again? F*ck you. Hit one home run before Gemini sets and Cancer rises and we might talk.
3. The Bench. Willie, I have tried. I swear to f*cking G-d I have tried to keep you out of this. But are you kidding me? Are you f*cking kidding me? Here is what we have to offer off of the bench: Ruben Gotay (puke), Ramon Castro (who isn't that bad, but who we never use on the off chance that the game goes 37 innnings and you need a backup catcher; idiot), Julio Franco (the lunacy of Julio Franco being on this team is worthy of its own post, nay, its own blog, but suffice it to say that Father Time is not the answer in a big spot), Carlos Gomez (too easy), and -- wait, is David Newhan really still in the big leagues? Ugh. F*ck them all. There simply must be -- has to be -- a better pinch hitter available than Julio Franco. Someone call Mike Gray.
Look, the Mets have been fortunate. The Braves have been mailing it in for two weeks, and the Phillies, Nats and Marlins are a joke (interesting run out of the Phils, though). The Mets could be 3 or 4 games out of first, rather than 2 games up, given how they have played this month. Fine. Great. If the Mets clinch the division in September and play ball in October, I will be first in line to cheer them on. But this is bullsh*t, and if they aren't careful, they are going to dig a hole out of which they shouldn't have to, or worse, can't, escape.
Oh and by the way: Easley, Green, LoDuca, Wagner, Heilman, Sosa, Feliciano, Sele, Horowitz, that guy who sells beer in section 12 of the Mezzanine, Wilpon, Milledge, El Duque . . . you all suck too.
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