Category Archives: writing

Baseball Beats Fireworks

Redbird squirrel

I wrote a column for my non-digital gig about how much I really don’t enjoy fireworks like 85 percent of the rest of the good ol’ US of A.

Chicks Queens dig the longball, not the exploding fireball.

Here ya go.

“Fireworks on the Fourth eventually all fizzle out”

I’ll admit from the start that I’m not one of those black powder geeks who spend half of their gross income buying Black Cat firecrackers, bottle rockets in bulk and colorful bombs purchased under a striped tent along the roadside in the hot and humid weeks leading up to the Fourth of July.
Fireworks are just too short-lived for me to enjoy. I like my excitement in a more long-term format. The quick KABOOM and sudden splash of color across the night sky is undeniably both attention-grabbing and beautiful, but I still usually find my mind wandering before the acrid smell of the accompanying black smoke wafts into sniffing range.
Maybe that’s why I’m a baseball fan. The long 162-game season sets a pace a languid turtle could love. No clock limits the time it takes to settle the final outcome and record those 27 outs in a winning effort. Even at the midseason all-star break, the team at the bottom of the standings still has a chance to scratch and claw back into title contention.
Some fans complain the length of the game has stretched out to an interminable span, but I appreciate the longer games. It just gives me more of a chance to explore the sights, sounds and smells of the ballpark like a bloodhound on the trail of an escaped serial killer.
For me, people-watching during the game is probably more eye-catching and interesting than any fireworks display shooting streaks of flame and color across the evening’s ebony sky. Whether it’s the super stat guy who keeps score — noting every pitch, base hit and error — or the Little Leaguer staring at his idol’s every move on the diamond, swinging a tiny bat and mimicking the stance of his favorite player, I appreciate all the fans in the stands.
I also prefer my fireworks on the field. Be it a well-turned double play with the second baseman leaping and pirouetting to make the throw to first while avoiding the sliding runner or a pitcher dropping a curve ball off the table as the batter’s knees buckle, baseball is a beautiful thing.
And hey, they actually have fireworks at a lot of baseball games. None to me are more spectacular than the ones ignited immediately after a home run blasted over the fence by a player from my favorite team.
Now, don’t let me  your ruin your fondness for fireworks, whether they are the hand-held sparklers, the rat-a-tat-tat basic firecracker or the bombastic big blasts. Set them off, light up the sky and enjoy this Independence Day weekend.

Zombie Haiku

For all my poetry-loving, zombie-killing pals, have I got something for you.

It’s “Zombie Haiku” by Ryan Mecum.

The Web site for the book includes a list of zombie haiku by celebrities including other horror writers, comedians and poet laureates.

Here’s an example of one of the celebrity submissions.

“Back to the buffet
for second helpings-
Care for a rump of infant?”
– Billy Collins, former U.S. Poet Laureate and author of the lovely Ballistics: Poems

There are also haiku written in the style of famous poets past.

“Zombie Haiku by Robert Frost
Two lobes in the skull.
I eat the bloodier one –
not much difference.”

It looks like a bloody, brainy fun read.

Lots of people give poetry books for Valentine’s Day. Don’t you think Newscoma would appreciate such a gift?

Feel Good Friday – In Da Club for my Blogiversary

It’s been exactly four years since I typed the opening salvo on this blog. I’d like to think I have helped pollute the Internet and make it a place unsafe for the rest of the world.

This blog has introduced me to a host of new characters, and I’ll always be thankful for those who’ve visited here, whether they’ve regular visitors or just passing by in a virtual whirlwind.

In honor of the anniversary, I’ll be partying In Da Club like it’s my birthday.

Six Word Stories

Succinct, brief, illuminating.

Most of us who start clacking away on the keyboard are none of the above.

Thus the challenge of Six Word Stories.

According to their About page:

“Brevity is a virtue.

This is a collection of short short stories consisting of just six words. It was inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s famous challenge.”

My first submission =

“Ran. Fell. Cried. Dried. Ran. Forward.”

It’s not necessarily the great American novel, but at least I finished this one.

Brevity … hmmm … I may have to try it more often.

Happy Blogiversary To Me!

Newscoma just celebrated the birth of her blog the other day and Kathy T. also is nearing an anniversary.

As of today, I’ve been blogging for three years.

That first post was just as goofy as most of the ones that followed it.

I don’t have a post for every one of those days since Jan. 1, 2006 – matter of fact there have been some big gaps in between posts – but if you’ve ever stopped by and enjoyed one word I typed or laughed at a pic of a squirrel snow skiing or DJing, then I’m glad I did it.

This blog has introduced me to a whole cast of people and experiences I wouldn’t have enjoyed otherwise.

Thanks for stopping by and please come again.

Oscar mania winds down

I survived another Oscar night without a hitch or a glitch or a hangover. Woo Hoo!!!

“No Country for Old Men” was the big winner on the night.

If you read through my entire evening of blog posts about the Oscars, you deserve a gold star and a stroll down some Internet red carpet.

For a complete rundown of all the Oscar winners and her take on the overall event, you can head over to Sharon Cobb’s site.

For the fashion police, here are pics of all the ugly/beautiful Oscar gowns. Personally, I thought Diablo Cody’s animal print rocked the carpet. Way to be your own person and not bow to the fashionistas. And congrats on winning for “Juno”.

Well, I guess it’s back to goofy blog posts about squirrels, baseball, Elvis and the Loch Ness Monster.

****** Barry Bonds Asterisk King ******

Big Head Barry Bonds Clear Cream

I will hate to see it happen, but I know it is inevitable. Barry Bonds will pass Hammerin’ Hank for the home run record. It’s just a matter of time.

I’ve been debating whether to type all this up. I’ve been procrastinating as the man with the giant head and even bigger ego struggles to knock one over the fence for No. 755. Irrationally, I’ve been connecting my delaying with his recent power outage. Thinking that maybe the longer I waited to post my opinion the further I could jinx the formerly pencil-thin outfielder as he teeters on the precipice of breaking the record.

I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to cheer for him. I don’t have to honor him for this.

I don’t believe he was unaware the “flaxseed oil” was juiced full of illegal chemicals. I don’t believe he was in the dark that the “clear cream” was loaded full of something you couldn’t pick up in your local GNC store at the mall but you could get at BALCO.

I don’t believe the human head should grow after the age of 40 to the size of a Macy’s Thanksgiving day balloon.

I do believe there should be an asterisk next to his name. I do believe Bud Selig should be there when Bonds finally swats a shot over the fence. Selig helped this steroid issue stagnate and then boil over into the mess we have to day.

I do believe he had Hall of Fame credentials before he joined the Roid Brigade, but I didn’t like him even then. I was rooting for Atlanta’s Sid Bream as he lumbered toward home in Game 7 of the 1992 NLCS, rooting against Bonds’ arm as he made the throw to try to nail him at home plate. Safe!

I do believe we should all root for A-Rod to hurry up and clobber about 300 home runs out of Yankee Stadium, unless Jose Canseco’s next book gives us evidence otherwise.

And I hate to root for a Yankee, no matter the reason.

All Hail Hammerin’ Hank! My mom and I were watching the night he surpassed the Babe’s mark in April of 1974. I’ve seen the replay, especially recently, so many times of Aaron trotting around the bases with the two fans from the stands running alongside him that I’d begun to doubt whether I saw it live or not. I mentioned it to my mom earlier this week and she confirmed that we did in fact watch it as it happened. 

I’m glad my memory didn’t fail me and I was a witness to the real home run king.