My fantasy baseball team, the Fern Hill Herring, is in first place by half a point. Fantasy baseball is possible because actual baseball can be quantified very granularly. These days, every at-bat, every hit, every stolen base, in fact every freaking PITCH, is observed, recorded, entered into a data base, distributed into the domain of 1s and 0s that make up the Internet, and then sliced and diced and redistributed t
The sun has set, my Saturn Vue is motoring up the driveway, the goats are lining up along the fence of their pen. They are watching the car carefully, and perhaps they also are watching me behind the wheel. They expect me to feed them, which I will do soon enough. The food, which generally is hay, but sometimes banana peels or orange rinds, forms the basis of our caprine/human relationship. Nevertheless I like to thi
I spent at least 40 minutes constructing the sentence that is the title of this post, so I hope it proves satisfactory. My goal was to arrange the necessary clauses in a logical, coherent order, and without commas. Lots of information to pack together: the purchase of the toothbrush and the purchase price, the political affiliation of the vendor, the eventual outcome. Really, I could have used several sentences or a
The stickers for Hillary are still affixed to the rear bumper of my silver Saturn Vue. I am not sure if they communicate a message of defiance, nostalgia, laziness, or some amalgam of all three. Nevertheless, the stickers remain, at least for now. I can tell you that I feel hopeful when I see similar proclamations around town, on car bumpers or in windowsills or on tee-shirts, for Hillary, or Bernie, or Obama. I have
Freshly minted from a small, inconsequential college of liberal arts, Stuart Rosenstein surprised his parents, his longtime girlfriend, and even himself when he decided neither to apply to graduate school nor to seek his fortune at an insurance agency or stock brokerage, but instead to accept his uncle’s offer to assume ownership of the uncle’s retail appliance business, a ramshackle enterprise cemented in an unfashi
March 20, 2004 Are you a fan of Sir Zymogen? Are you key to Sir Z, also known as the Blue Knight, because of his blue-tinted armor and deep blue eyes that set girls’ hearts a-flutter? I am, most definitely. I have stood by him through thick and thin, from the fierce Revenge of the Cloud People of Ish 151 to the terrifying Lizard Death March of Ish 196. I even liked the last story, and nothing was quite as hokey
Encroaching climbing, Over canyons miniscule. Uneven surface, Leafy Vestibule. Crawl encircle, Erect lumber. Cascading upwards, Upon bird’s slumber. Nurturing nature, Fulfilling desire. Working up and out, Of sand-mud mire.
We were at the party With your friends from work, Nice enough people, But boring, As we agree. Someone said, “Nice shirt, Bill.” You replied, “Yeah, I got it Last month when I was in Miami.” When you said this, you avoided eye contact with me Or at least you did not look at me, maybe by accident, But I think on purpose. Of course, I was with you On the trip in question. So you might have said
I loved you before I was born And I will love you after I am gone. In between, we have our duties and responsibilities And joys and sorrows, and all the triumphs and trophies To celebrate for ourselves, and kith and kin. I gaze at the stars. They are very beautiful. So I think of you. The truth is that the memories Are like old handbills and popcorn sleeves Pressed in the clown’s scrapbook, Waiting for nothing