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Please tell us about your dining experience: expressivecynic [at]yahoo.com |
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August 30, 2004: Talkin’ Baseball III (Republican Baseball Quiz Edition) Today marks the start of the last full week of regular season play in Yahoo! Fantasy Baseball. For the last several years, I’ve participated in at least one (and often two) of Yahoo!’s public leagues. This year, however, a coworker invited me to play in a private league organized by one of his buddies. In my public league, my team has a .622 winning percentage, and a twenty-one game lead over the team in second. My team in the private league, by contrast, is forty games under .500, 58 1/2 games out of first, and ranks eighth out of ten teams. The only thing my private and public teams have in common is that, as far as this week of baseball statistics goes, it’s all academic. There’s a good reason why my Overpaidfreeagents are in first and my DL Squad is in the cellar. The Overpaidfreeagents had a healthy Roger Clemens, Mark Mulder, Greg Maddux, Kevin Brown, and Al Leiter in the starting rotation with run support from Hideki Matsui, Todd Helton, Hank Blalock and Ichiro (among others). And if these guys got in trouble, they always had Trevor Hoffman to bail them out of a jam. The DL Squad? It had Kenny Rogers as its ace, and Jason Giambi (disabled list), Jose Vidro (disabled list), Mike Piazza (disabled list), Magglio Ordonez (disabled list), Garrett Anderson (disabled list for weeks until I relented and traded him for Jose Valentin, a home run hitting infielder who can’t hit for average, but at least he doesn’t land on the DL), Wade Miller (disabled list) and, of course, lest we forget, Jose Reyes (‘nuf ced). Oh yeah, did I mention the DL Squad’s only reliever, Eddie Guardado, also had a bum shoulder all season, and that I had to trade him to my coworker for a journeyman outfielder who goes by the name “Willy Mo”? Quite frankly, had I tried to draft the perfect “All Injured, All the Time Dream Team,” I don’t think I could have done any worse in my private league. Who knew that J.D. Drew--the poster child for promising players who get hurt and destroy your draft--would have his career year in Atlanta? Every year, if there’s one player that I avoid like the plague, it’s J.D. Drew. The other player, Ken Griffey, is also poison to any fantasy baseball team. (Fortunately, for Griffey, he built his Hall of Fame credentials before his hamstrings became unstrung.) But even an injury-prone Drew or Griffey would have provided more offense than the laggards who played for the DL Squad this year. (Of course, I don’t advocate drafting either Drew or Griffey. Ever. Trust me. You’re only asking for trouble.) Another drawback of my private league is that the owners are well-informed. That means I can’t pick an Ichiro, or Maddux, or Leiter off the waiver wire. That’s right. Some fool in my public league dropped Ichiro only after a few weeks into the season. Ichiro usually leads the league in batting, swipes tons of bases, scores oodles of runs, and, oh yeah, let’s not forget that he may break the single-season record for most hits. Word of advice: Anyone who drops Ichiro either doesn’t understand baseball, doesn’t care, or probably thinks “misunderestimate” is in the dictionary--which now leads us to the official Donutbuzz “Republican Baseball Quiz” in honor of the Republican National Convention being held in New York City this week: What managing general partner of baseball's Texas Rangers traded Sammy Sosa? August 27, 2004: It’s All Relative In West Virginia Redux If the evidence weren’t clear why Governor Wise is a lame duck, this should leave no further doubt on the issue. August 24, 2004: I’m Just Wondering What kind of person smiles broadly and gives a “thumbs up” while wearing green, surgical gloves as he’s hovering over a corpse of an Iraqi prisoner packed in ice? Update 2/26/05: Wikipedia now has an entry for this guy. (Warning: The entry includes the above picture.) August 22, 2004: My Wife’s Observations On Three Of The Namco Arcade Video Games On Galaxians: “I don’t know what the Galaxians are. Are they the ‘good guys’ or the ‘bad guys’? Whoever they are, the bad guys are wussies. I mean, come on, they’re so many of them, and they can’t take out your one, little ship unless they gang up on you. If they all just fired at the same time, game over. But they’re too dumb to figure that out.” On Dig Dug: “What is he doing? Radon testing? And I don’t really know what that ‘puffer’ thing is that he uses.” On the ghosts in Pac Man: “They look like the McDonald’s ‘fry guys’ without legs.” August 21, 2004: My Wife Vs. The Galaxians Last month, my wife bought me the Namco TV games. Three weeks later, here’s a typical exchange between my wife and me after Seth’s in bed: The Wife: “Arrghhhh.....” (Bangs Namco TV game controller on floor) Me: “What’s wrong?” The Wife: “They got me again.” Me: “What happened?” The Wife: “The red ones attack at an angle.” Me: “You know what the problem is?” (Without waiting for a response, I continue. . .) “You need to position your ship in the middle, and stay out of the corner.” The Wife: (Very irritated at her husband and his stupid advice, and possibly resentful that he has two decades’ playing experience with Galaxians and every other game Namco, Bally, Williams, Sega, Atari, Nintendo of America, and Coleco manufactured between 1980 and 1985) “I’m staying in the center and out of the corners!” Me: “You also miss most of your shots. . .” The Wife: (Gives me an angry glare when she should be paying attention to the wave of purple ships launching an attack on her ship, which now occupies the far left corner of the screen) “Arrghh....I lost again. . . I suck at this!” Me: “No, you’re getting better. Here, give me the joystick, and I’ll get to the third level, and then you can play.” The Wife: “Oh. . . thanks. . . ‘Here, honey, let me teach you how to drive a car by taking you out to the middle of the Los Angeles freeway and letting you drive solo!’” Me: “Actually, learning to navigate the LA freeway is much easier than avoiding the red ships in Galaxians.” August 17, 2004: Next Time, Please Refrain From Using The Speaker Phone When I’m In The Room! The Place: Somebody’s Law Office The Time: Sometime after 3:00 p.m. The Occurrence: Coworker telephones a client to reschedule his deposition Coworker: “Hello, is this Mr. Holland1?” Client: “Yes.” Coworker: “Sorry to bother you, but we need to reschedule your deposition.” Client: “That’s fine. I don’t care what attorney handles it as long as it isn’t that guy who did it last time.” Coworker: “And who was that?” Client: “I don’t remember.” Coworker: “Can you describe him for me?” Client: “Um...he’s short. And bald. And he kept talking about his expired inspection sticker on his car.” Coworker: “Ok. . .” Client interrupting: “And he kept talking about his old woman.” Coworker: “Ok...we’ll make sure he doesn’t accompany you on your next deposition.” Client: “Yeah. Short. Bald. Kept yakking ‘bout his old woman and the sticker on his car.” 1Mr. Holland is the name of the teacher in the eponymous film, “Mr. Holland’s Opus,” but it is not the name of the client here. In fact, I’m not suggesting that the client here exists, or that I am really “short and bald,” as the account implies--although I do have less hair than your average Oompa Loompa does. August 14, 2004: Nine Nicer Uses For The $988.35 Spent To Repair My 1999 Toyota Camry 396 9oz. bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos™ 260 shares of Tivo stock with deep-discount broker (as of close on August 13, 2004) 232 packages of Pampers™ “Sensitive Touch” baby wipes 152 adult admissions to Noah’s Ark Animal Farm 79 containers of 28 lb. Fresh Step™ brand kitty litter 61 “Can You Feel My Love” t-shirts with a picture of George W. Bush on the front (shipping charges not included) 24 sets of “Degrassi Junior High” Box Set on VHS (Volume 1) 19 “grande” lava lamps 3 pairs of Allen Edmonds shoes from Shoedini August 10, 2004: An Open Letter To Bill Gates Dear Bill: Our media system crashed today. It is the second time in one month, the fourth time in four months, and the fifth or sixth time overall. (Forgive me, Bill, if I cannot remember how many times your media center program has crashed, but our computer did not include a log for us to record the many problems we experience with Microsoft’s software.) I can accept that software has flaws. No software is perfect (not even Microsoft’s fine products), and nobody expects Microsoft’s products to function without a flaw. I can accept a flaw, or two, or even three. But five crashes, Bill? I repeat: FIVE CRASHES OF OUR MEDIA CENTER??!??! That’s less reliable than the used 1999 Toyota Camry we purchased two years ago! When we bought Ol’ Cam, my trusty automobile, we expected he’d experience problems. In fact, as I type these words, Ol’ Cam’s in the Toyota repair shop having undergone several surgeries, including the removal of his water pump (leaky or something), a replacement of his timing belt (irregular movement), his back lights (gone, baby, gone), and, of course, lest we forget, the removal of his Big Pimpin’ Tint (I’ve covered the painful details of this). But I know that when we receive Ol’ Cam back from the repair shop--whenever that is--Ol’ Cam will be good for another 30,000 miles or more. The good news, Bill, is that since we’ve owned the media center, I’ve learned many skills in operating Microsoft’s software programs. I now know how to correct the problem when our media center crashes. And with each passing crash of our media center, I’m gaining more appreciation for your wonderful software programmers. I think you should pay them more money than the ridiculously large salaries and stock options that they now have. And that’s the reason why I’m writing. Here’s my question: Could your 300 billion dollar corporation possibly devote a couple million dollars’ funding for a software patch (or fix) to prevent our media center from crashing? Thanks for your time, Cordially, Hoytster August 9, 2004: Guest Columnist Seth Editor’s Note: Today’s column arrives courtesy of Seth, who typed the four lines following this introduction by himself. Eat your heart out Bil Keane: xxxxxxxxxnb jkjhhhigugrhk’ vbbbbbbbbjg ftbj hhhhhhhhhhh mgv jjjjjjjjjjj jjjkkkkkkll;;;;b bbbbbbbmmvfd555555555nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn z yytg
1. Locked in the basement, The kitties plot their revenge: When free, barf upstairs! 2. Chicken, cheese, flour, Taco Bell Quesadilla: Nature’s Perfect Food. 3. Seth loves using broom, It towers over his head, He sweeps much too slow.
August 4, 2004: Crackdown On My Pimp Mobile I'm pissed. I spent over seven hours in a deposition today. By now, you should comprehend that a long, tedious grill session in a small room, with several defense lawyers, and ninety-degree temperatures outside, irks me. But if there's something that bothers me more than a long, tedious grill session in hot temperatures with follically-challenged attorneys with halitosis and passive-aggressive tendencies, it's this: The service station attendant who interrupts my boredom during the interminable deposition with an “urgent message” to call him “ASAP” so he can place me on hold for seven minutes, and then tell me that my 1999 Toyota Camry's failed its annual inspection. What? Ok...where is Jamie Kennedy hiding? I hear he plays pranks on ordinary folks. This is a hidden camera experiment, right? Nuh-ope. If you've read this far, you've probably also read my other stories about my used 1999 Toyota Camry. Ol' Cam and I have shared some good times. We still laugh about them, too. . . . There was the time when he broke down because he couldn't tell me that he was too sick to function, and two homeless guys had to push him across the road to an empty lot near Green’s Feed and Seed, and then one of the guys asked me if I were Jewish, and I said “yes,” and he replied that he was "half-Jewish," and his dad had married a “shiksa,” and in a strange way, I felt an immediate connection with my fellow MOT (Member Of the Tribe). Then my fellow MOT asked me for some money, and I had only two bucks left in my wallet, and I gave both of them to my fellow MOT. There was also the time when Cam and I made the acquaintance of Mr. Dangerous Fool and his companion with the beehive hairdo. But I digress. Like Charlie Brown, who later learned Lila was Snoopy’s original master, we understood we weren’t the first owners of Ol’ Cam. We bought him from a used car dealership, which is an automobile equivalent of the Daisy Hill Puppy Farm. And we knew Ol’ Cam had secrets. Over the years, we discovered some of these secrets. But Ol’ Cam had another secret that he hadn't shared with us. Allow me to explain. Ol' Cam has tinted windows. He likes them. I like them. Melanie likes them. And although he never rides in Ol' Cam anymore, because it’s impossible to install a child safety seat in Ol' Cam without our pitching a tantrum and/or killing each other in the front yard, Seth likes Ol' Cam's tinted windows. But the West Virginia State Police force doesn't like them. Or at least not since Ol' Cam's inspection this June. (Yes, I allowed Ol' Cam's inspection sticker to expire because I need time to update this website.) According to my trusty service station attendant, West Virginia law enforcement has "cracked down" on cars with windows whose tint is in excess of the legal limit. I assume he meant a “crackdown” in the figurative sense, because I imagine ominous possibilities arising if a literal “crackdown” occurred: SHERIFF GASTON T. PUSSER: Son, your vehicle’s windows are noncompliant with the 35% transparent requirement for tinting. ME: Huh? But I purchased the car this way, and. . . SHERIFF GASTON T. PUSSER then takes a very, sharp hatchet and begins vigorously scraping my car’s front window with the weapon as he removes the car’s illegal tinting. SHERIFF GASTON T. PUSSER: Let that be a lesson to you, boy. I had no idea that there were legal limits for these things, and--yes--I really am a lawyer. But it doesn’t surprise me. I live in a state where the legislature has enacted laws allowing folks to eat road kill. So I don’t believe my service station attendant would fool me with a ruse about tinting enforcement regulations, especially if he takes eating his road kill as seriously as any self-respecting West Virginian does. Ol’ Cam’s windows did not meet the legal 35% transparency level for his tinted windows. For you automobile aficionados reading this (and, YES, I’m including you Dangerous Fool and Beehive Hairdo Lady Companion), the levels of Ol’ Cam’s tint on the windows ranged between a 12% transparency on the right, rear passenger window (dark enough for you or your passengers to give Sheriff Gaston T. Pusser the finger without his detection) and a 29% transparency on the front window (if you flip Sheriff Pusser the bird, be prepared for the hatchet job). The tint on the front window also extends two inches beyond the six-inch limit, which surprised me because I never thought that having an extra two inches--especially of tinting--could be a bad thing. But then I also liked this movie. The point of all my rambling is simple: For the last two years, I had no clue that I was driving a pimp mobile. I don't know how to tell Ol' Cam this, but if we ever want to drive anywhere again (at least after five days when my “rejection inspection” sticker expires), he'll need his tint removed. Ol' Cam also needs his backlights fixed, too. I think this is God's way of telling us that we need to buy a minivan soon. August 1, 2004: Hoytster’s Recipes Hoytster’s Peanut Butter and M & M® Sandwich Ingredients: 1 regular package M & M®’s 1 slice of white bread 3-5 large tablespoons of Peter Pan® Peanut Butter Directions: Using a butter knife, spread peanut butter over the slice of bread. Smooth the peanut butter. Place M & M®’s evenly over surface of the Peter Pan® Peanut Butter. Eat. Serves one adult and a small child. Deposition Disaster Ingredients: 4 attorneys (or more. . .alter to fit your taste) 1 deponent with a poor memory 1 court reporter 1 tiny room (should measure less than 80 square feet) 1 bottomless coffee pot 1 broken air-conditioner and an outdoor temperature of ninety degrees 1 very, sensitive area of questioning Directions: Assemble the parties in the tiny room with the broken air conditioner and bottomless coffee pot. For best results, three or more attorneys should represent the defense and one attorney should represent the deponent. Defense grills the deponent for three straight hours. Allow the deponent to drink the coffee anytime s/he wants. Take a ten-minute break. Repeat grilling. After seven hours of grilling, question the deponent about a sensitive matter that will provoke the client’s anger. Let deponent simmer. When deponent answers the question, defense attorney asks the same question again. Allow deponent to simmer again. Repeat question. When deponent’s attorney terminates the deposition and/or deponent hurls “f”-word, laden invective against defense attorneys, deposition is done. Serves up to one hundred attorneys in the entire room next door.
All written material ©2004-2007 by HEG |
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