It snowed here in Allentown, PA last night, and I am becoming acutely aware of how my mood is directly proportional to the temperature outside and the amount of rainfall. 90 degrees and no rain = Ernie Banks. 28 degrees and snow = Dave Kingman. Today I’m Dave Kingman. A neighborhood kid is shoveling the walk and the driveway for ten bucks. My “job” at work today will be to find a cheap snowblower online, so internal combustion can do the work for me. Science needs to get its collective butt in gear and start making us some affordable robots […]
For as long as I can remember, i’ve always loved baseball. I remember when I was a kid, watching the Cubs in the summertime at 1:20 on WGN. I would go to the card shop and spend all my money on baseball cards. In the afternoon, we’d play baseball with about 8 guys and always have to close about 4 positions. I loved baseball. However, throughout that time, one nagging question has always haunted and plagued my mind, causing me to lose sleep time and time again. It haunts me like an awful recurring nightmare that I just can’t seem […]
“Ho, Ho, Ho! Merry Christmas, Cubs fans! I have good news, my friends — you’ve all been good little boys and girls this year. This Christmas I’m bringing you a World Championship in 2005! Ho, Ho, Ho!!!!!” Merry Christmas. Happy holidays to all. So far I’ve gotten my wish; as little snowfall as possible and, generally speaking, unseasonable warmth. Now if Hendry Claus can deliver the goods like he just promised, I can die happy.
Growing up, we’re always taught to listen to the advice of our elders. We’re told to learn from the people that came before us and the histories they leave behind. We study them in textbooks for hours on end in hot, sweaty classrooms. I can’t tell you how many times I learned about Columbus, Lincoln, and Jefferson. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy history to this day, but what I don’t understand is why we never educate our students on the biggest, most important piece of advice known to man. Why do we not educate our children on the dangers […]
The revelation that Moises Alou urinates on his hands to help build callouses was, I thought, worthy of a nickname. However, I grappled with varieties of “Pee-hands” for the whole year last year without settling on anything right. I think I finally found it: Pottyfingers. Wherever Alou ends up, I hope fans of that team will embrace the nickname as warmly as a Michael Jackson embrace to an eleven year old boy. When I am ninety-six years old I intend to mature, but not one day earlier. Update: Alou signed with SF today for 2 years