double drat - know your place, shut your face!

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bird calls

theyre dropping like flies (no pun intended) in the baseball world today. first phillies and nfl films longtime announcer harry kalas dies in the booth (way to commit!) and now the not so mighty mark fidrych. his death aped his career, it ended too soon.

snark infested

You have to give David Denby credit for bravery: Writing a book titled Snark: It’s Mean, It’s Personal, and It’s Ruining Our Conversation is like writing a book titled Keying My Car: It’s the Wrong Thing to Do or Why Flaming Bags of Dog Poop on My Doorstep Just Aren’t Funny. You invite the transgression even as you decry it; you loose the hounds on yourself. Given Denby’s age (65) and position in the firmament (film reviewer for The New Yorker), he could have written the most concise, insightful, artfully balanced, and expertly argued book about snark and still come off like an Internet-age Andy Rooney, wagging his finger from his rocking chair at the boisterous kids on the lawn. And he has not written the most concise, insightful, artfully balanced, and expertly argued book about snark.

edge fund

"What game-changing scientific ideas and developments do you expect to live to see?"

d.faced

was curious about the facebook phenomenon so i created a page. earlier, i had received two queries (two more than i was expecting) from high school friends neither of which i responded to. but today i was thrown offstride when i got an email from a friend i hadnt heard from or probably thought much about since he moved out of our town in the fifth or sixth grade. he did remind me that we went to soccer camp together, a fact that had been scrubbed from my recollection of that adventure. the thick white bread used for the french toast in the cafeteria remains indelibly etched however.

jumor me

Millie accompanied her husband Maurice to the doctor's office.

After he had given Maurice a full checkup, the doctor called Millie into his office, alone. He said, "Maurice is suffering from a very severe disease, combined with horrible stress. If you don't do the following, your husband will surely die.

Each morning, wake him up gently with a long and passionate kiss, then fix him a healthy breakfast. Be pleasant at all times and make sure he is always in a good mood. Cook him only his favourite meals, lunch and dinner and allow him to fully relax after each. Don't burden him with any chores and don't discuss your problems with him, it will only make his stress worse. Don’t argue with him, even if he criticises you or makes fun of you. Let him be as arrogant as he wants to be. Try to relax him in the evening by wearing see-through lingerie. Give him plenty of ‘full relief’ body massages. Encourage him to watch all the sport he can on the TV, even if it means missing your favourite programs. And most importantly, make full and passionate love with Maurice every evening after dinner and satisfy his every whim. I suggest you also make oral love to him mid morning and mid afternoon.

If you can do all of this, every day, for the next 6 months, I think Maurice will regain his health completely."

On the way home, Maurice asks Millie: "What did the doctor say?"

"He said you're going to die," she replied.

dont go chasing waterfaults

flagged down my landlord out in front of the building as he was confounding a ups driver. my kitchen sink has been leaking and i assumed when he called me on sunday that this was the reason. usually the "water people" will contact the landlord when such wasteful practices are detected. as i had been waylaid by impertinence and the viruses that feed on such behavior i was in no mood to indulge anything more than my indolence on that day so i ignored the call. there was no sign of him on monday nor yesterday when i made my forays out into the world but today the steel shutters to his dugout were open when i poke my head out into the world so i steeled myself for the inevitable intercourse.

already weighed down by two sacks of desultory sundries, my overheated prosecco and fleece induced discomfort was percolating as i waited at the beanery for my coffee.

"do you want them ground?"

"no thanks."

"i just want to get the fuck out of here."

so i was in no mood to engage with the spawn of godot but as i spied him outside his lair i decided to slay the dragon so to speak on neutral ground.

the ups driver was no match for the ball of confusion hurled in his direction and turned tail as soon as was humanly and professionally within his means and i was left to tussle with the beastly intellect.

really im making to much of this. i expected to be gently harangued for slacking off owing to my leaky faucet but instead was again faulted for a more serious leak which required buckets (gasp!) and supposedly caused more serious unspecified damage. as it turns out the two leaks dont seem to be connected. and theres no proof to even connect my use of water to the more serious leakage not that id feel the least bit of remorse had there been. when i asked how he knew i was responsible, he said "the water has your name on it." i couldnt help but laugh at that barb as did he pleased with his own confection but i was through sparring. i just shook my head and walked away. he told me he didnt know when hed be able to fix my leaky faucet. i said id be around.

wheres a joe the plumber when you need one?

manny happy returns

bill simmons channels david foster wallace as he dissects the manny ramirez experience from the point of view of a boston fan.

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