avast! ye evildoers ~ ~ pclef.net

HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD

never underestimate the influence of Sideshow Bob...

an additional point of minor significance regarding the oscar show ... the counting crows song from Shrek2 that didn't win:

"Accidentally In Love"
Music by Adam Duritz, Charles Gillingham, Jim Bogios, David Immergluck, Matthew Malley and David Bryson;
Lyric by Adam Duritz and Daniel Vickrey

they needed SEVEN people to write that banal, cookie-cutter, strumma-strumma snorefest? Gee whiz, what do I know anyhow? I've written some really crappy pop songs in my time, laboring all on my lonesome ... but if I'd only had the ingenuity to invite over five or six buddies to help, who knows? it's certainly louder with three guitars....hmmm...BAD + LOUD = PROFIT!!

anyways, the spanish song won. it was actually OK, and that antonio bandana sure is one guapo hombre.....

overall, not too terrible...I could've done with a bit more cleavage (salma brought the twins, thank goodness), but chris rock was funny, and I think a final decision has been made to axe those awful "fame"-style debbie allen dance numbers ... let's hope they've gone the way of the cosby sweater ...

career advice for sean penn: avoid comedy. it obviously ain't your thing...

... and when Rock name-checked "Pootie Tang" to the 50 gazillion of us watching, I was just all "sa-da-tay motherfu#*%er" ... "sepatown"......

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PLEASE COME TO BOSTON (FOR THE SPRINGTIME)

this is what it's going to look like, except with a haircut and pinstripes...

open letter to unworthy miscreants of red sox nation:

it is well-documented that the caged monkey will still hurl its own feces at the wall even after it's been set free.

so, have at it. enjoy.

it's been an unexpected pleasure to watch you squirm uncomfortably beneath the onus of the spoken word as you prepare (as world champions?) for the upcoming season. initiated by a man named trot, whose sobriquet is a colloquialism for diarrhea, first-person singular. (of the mouth?)

it seems that these young men are still out there trying to prove that they're just as worthy of respect as their rivals to the south. but I don't know about that. baltimore got sosa. you might be staring at 3rd place this year. or worse.

my advice: hang back. enjoy your ring ceremony. get it on tape, for it will most certainly be a unique, once-in-a-lifetime experience. if you continue to feel the need to exhort us with observations about our team, I'd love to hear what you have to say about our starting pitcher for opening day. Because I'm pretty sure we all know what the man in black is going to be saying:

STEEEEE-RRRRIIIKKKEE THREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

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I FEEL PRETTY

"huh? excuse me? Happy Flag Day?

Never mind..."

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HAPPY JACK

Jack Chesbro, spitball virtuoso...

Regarded by many as the best spitballer in major league history, “Happy Jack” Chesbro set single season (1904) pitching records -- completing 48 games (#1 all-time), winning 41 (#1 all-time) and pitching in 455 innings (#1 AL) for the NY Highlanders (Yankees) -- that will never be broken.

Chesbro is often cited as a one-year wonder, but he was more than that, winning twenty games five times, and 19 once. He posted a .600 winning percentage on teams that were .532 when others were pitching. From 1901 to 1906, he won 154 games — an average of 25 per season. Hurling for pennant winners in Pittsburgh and New York, Chesbro was a league leader in winning percentage three times; twice in wins, appearances and games started; and once each in complete games, innings and shutouts.

Ye Olde Baseball Lore:
Despite his personal achievements in 1904, they were overshadowed by a heartbreaking loss at the end of his spectacular season. Losing 3-2 to Boston on a wild pitch in the 9th inning cost the Highlanders the AL pennant. It would be 16 more seasons until New York came as close to winning a pennant (with the new arrival of a talented young pitcher/outfielder named George Herman Ruth).

He was given the name 'Happy Jack' prior to his baseball career. As an attendant working in the Middletown, NY psychiatric hospital in the 1890's, he received his nickname from a patient.

On April 20, 1903, Jack Chesbro pitched the very first game in the history of the New York Yankees, then known as the Highlanders...

gracias mucho to deadball.com, thebaseballpage.com, and natl baseball hall of fame....

ONE TOKE OVER THE LINE

rest in peace, dr. gonzo...

Hunter S. Thompson 1937-2005

When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.

The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side.

The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.

No man is so foolish but he may sometimes give another good counsel, and no man so wise that he may not easily err if he takes no other counsel than his own. He that is taught only by himself has a fool for a master.

If I'd written all the truth I knew for the past ten years, about 600 people - including me - would be rotting in prison cells from Rio to Seattle today. Absolute truth is a very rare and dangerous commodity in the context of professional journalism.

I wouldn't recommend sex, drugs or insanity for everyone, but they've always worked for me.

I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.

Call on God, but row away from the rocks.

America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.

He who makes a beast of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man.

from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas:

We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive...." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?"

Then it was quiet again. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. "What the hell are you yelling about?" he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wraparound Spanish sunglasses. "Never mind," I said. "It's your turn to drive." I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Shark toward the shoulder of the highway. No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.

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LAND SPEED RECORD

the only man to ever hit a home run OUT of Yankee Stadium...(?)

The greatest power hitter in black baseball, Josh Gibson starred for the great Pittsburgh Crawfords and Homestead Grays teams of the 1930s and 1940s. Some sources claim Gibson hit more than .440 in at least two seasons, driving in close to 200 runs and hitting more than 75 homers. He accomplished this despite playing most of his career in two of Baseball's most cavernous ballparks: Forbes Field and Griffith Stadium. Accurate statistics were not kept for all Negro league games, so the truth will never be known. He is credited with having hit .483 in Negro League East-West All-Star Game competition. He died of a brain tumor in 1947 at the age of 35, denied the opportunity to join other Negro league stars who went on to play in Major League Baseball after Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier.

Roy Campanella said of Gibson, whom he played against in the Negro Leagues: "I couldn't carry his bat or glove. The stories of his 500-foot homers are all true, because I saw them. And he was one of those sluggers who seldom struck out. You couldn't fool him; he was too quick with the bat. And he could do it behind the plate, including throw."

In 60 recorded at-bats against big league pitching, Gibson batted .426. He died just three months before the integration of baseball in the major leagues.

Gibson is often referred to as the black Babe Ruth for his ability to hit tape-measure homers, and he also hit for incredibly high averages.

"He hits the ball a mile," Hall of Famer Walter Johnson, the Washington Senators pitcher who won 416 games, said of Gibson.

Satchel Paige, who was Gibson's teammate on the Pittsburgh Crawfords and later pitched for the Cleveland Indians, said, "He was the greatest hitter who ever lived."

"I played with Willie Mays and against Hank Aaron," Monte Irvin once said. "They were tremendous players, but they were no Josh Gibson. You saw him hit, and you took your hat off. It makes me sad to talk about Josh, because he didn't get to play in the Major Leagues, and when you tell people how great he was, they think you're exaggerating."

In various publications, the 6-foot-1, 215-pounder has been credited with as many as 84 homers in one season. His Hall of Fame plaque says he hit "almost 800" homers in his 17-year career. His lifetime batting average was higher than .350, with one book putting it at .384, best in Negro League history.

It was reported that he won nine home-run titles and four batting championships playing for the Crawfords and the Homestead Grays. In two seasons in the late 1930s, it was written that not only did he hit higher than .400, but his slugging percentage was above 1.000.

Early 1942, Gibson suffered a brain tumor that put him in a coma. When he awoke, doctors wanted to operate. But Gibson wouldn't let them, fearing that surgery would leave him a vegetable. Despite recurring headaches and a drinking problem, he continued to tear apart the Negro League, winning two more batting crowns and three more home-run titles in the next four seasons.

"The Ballplayers" recites this story of the black Babe Ruth's last day: "On Jan. 20, 1947, Gibson told his mother that he was going to die that night. She laughed, but told him to go to bed and that she would call a doctor. With his family gathered around him, Gibson asked for his baseball trophies to be brought to his bedside. He was laughing and talking when he suddenly sat straight up, had a stroke and died."

Ye Old Baseball Lore:
Belting home runs of more than 500 feet was not unusual for Gibson. One homer in Monessen, Pa., reportedly was measured at 575 feet. The Sporting News of June 3, 1967 credits Gibson with a home run in a Negro League game at Yankee Stadium that struck two feet from the top of the wall circling the center field bleachers, about 580 feet from home plate. Although it has never been conclusively proven, Chicago American Giants infielder Jack Marshall, as well as Buck O'Neill, say that Gibson slugged one over the third deck next to the left field bullpen in 1934 for the only fair ball hit out of the House That Ruth Built.

If so, he's the only one to ever accomplish that.

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...much love & a ten-dollah hollah to...thebaseballpage.com, natl baseball hall of fame, espn, and mlb.mlb.com...

RUBY TUESDAY

...and you thought Pedro Martinez was a head-case...

...with a big ol' shizzout to thebaseballpage.com and deadball.com...

A hulk of a man-child, left-handed Rube Waddell won six consecutive strikeout titles, two ERA titles, and anchored Connie Mack's pitching staffs that won the 1902 and 1905 AL flags. He possessed an excellent fastball, a sharp curve, and superb control. His eccentric behavior led to constant battles with his managers and teammates, and he died tragically at the age of 37 in a mental institution.

The A's lost the World Series in 1905 to the Giants, as Waddell was sidelined with an arm injury he suffered while wrestling a teammate. Rumors also circulated that Waddell didn't pitch because he accepted a $17,000 bribe from gamblers to sit out. Connie Mack refuted that charge to his dying day, but the rumor followed Waddell until his death.

Best Season, 1904
Used in 46 games, Waddell threw eight shutouts, posting a 1.62 ERA. He went just 25-19 (talk about lack of support), pitching 383 innings, allowing 307 hits and 91 walks. Just five homers were hit off the big lefty - and he struck out a then league record 349 batters. Not until Sandy Koufax would a southpaw throw some many K's in one season.

Pitching Feats
Waddell failed to pitch a no-hitter, but he did defeat Cy Young, 4-2, in a 20-inning game on July 4, 1905. In a remarkable 1900 doubleheader, he won both the 17-inning first game and the second game, 1-0. On July 1, 1902, Rube Waddell became the first major league pitcher to strike out the side on just nine pitched balls.

Ye Olde Baseball Lore:
Waddell roomed for some time with catcher Ossee Schreckengost, but the two ended up in many crazy quarrels. Schreckengost hated Waddell's habit of eating in bed. One of Rube's favorite snacks was limburger cheese sandwiches, which left a less than desirable odor in their room. Waddell also enjoyed munching on crunchy animal crackers. Schreckengost refused to sign his 1903 contract until it included a clause forbidding Waddell from eating crackers in bed.

He had many passions that did not include baseball. An impulsive person, Rube would take off to go fishing during the middle of the baseball season and could not be traced. Mysteriously disappearing for these excursions, he would then reappear and wait for his turn to pitch as if nothing had happened. He would take off in the middle of a game to chase fire engines, play marbles with the neighborhood kids or march in town parades. He once joined a circus side show and wrestled with alligators. It was said that even during a pitching performance, he would cartwheel from the mound back to his dugout. While pitching for Connie Mack and the Philadelphia A's, Rube had his greatest pitching seasons. He became a gate attraction for a number of years. However, his erratic behavior soon tired with the fans and with Connie Mack and Rube was sold in 1908 to the St. Louis Browns for $5000. He died an early death at 37 years after a bout with TB for a couple of years. His body had weakened after he heroically helped a community save itself from the Spring floods of 1912 and had contracted a severe viral infection for his efforts.

It has been speculated that Waddell may have been retarded, or have a learning disability. Whatever it was, it kept him from staying focused on his career. He was constantly disappearing. Connie Mack once hired a private detective to keep tabs on the lefty.

DEAD MAN'S CURVE

Charley "Old Hoss" Radbourne, inventor (?) of the curveball...

a few career highlights (with mad props to thebaseballpage.com):

Charles Radbourne is considered by many to be baseball's greatest 19th century pitcher. His total of 60 wins in 1884 is an unbreakable record. A cantankerous man with a drinking problem, "Old Hoss" stayed focused between the lines, winning at least 25 games seven times. Pitching with an underhand delivery his entire career, Radbourn notched 309 wins and posted a 2.67 ERA in an 11-year career. He was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1939.

During the season of 1884, he pitched 678 innings and earned the nickname “Old Hoss.” He also notched two wins during the championship series that season, leading Providence to victory.

Career Ballclubs: Providence Grays (1881-1885), Boston Beaneaters (1886-1889), Boston Reds (1890), Cincinnati Reds (1891)

Ye Olde Baseball Lore:
Charlie Sweeney and Radbourne were the only two pitchers on Providence’s roster in 1884, but they were not friends. Sweeney was a hard drinker with a temper, and despite being eight years Radbourne’s junior, Sweeney openly disrespected and belittled Radbourne. Radbourne was known to empty a bottle from time to time as well, and soon the two were in a feud that split the team into “Pro-Sweeney” and “Pro-Radbourne” factions. While on the mound on July 16, Radbourne finally snapped. With Sweeney taunting him from his own dugout, and suspecting that some of his teammates were purposely playing poorly behind him, Radbourne lobbed pitches to the opponent and lost the game. Manager Frank Bancroft suspended Radbourne, but found himself in need of his banished pitcher a week later when Sweeney reported to an exhibition game drunk and beligerent. Bancroft suspended Sweeney (who quickly signed with the rival Union Association), and with his players urging him on, re-instated Radbourne. “Old Hoss” agreed to return under a few conditions: he be allowed to pitch every day the rest of the year and that he be paid the balance of Sweeney’s contract in addition to his own. With little options, Bancroft relented, and Radbourne returned to pitch the rest of the way, winning 60 games. While Radbourne went on to a Hall of Fame career, Sweeney’s ill-temper led him to a much different fate. In 1894, after being out of baseball for seven years, 31-year old Sweeney got into an argument in a bar in San Francisco and shot and killed a man. After his conviction, Sweeney spent the rest of his life in San Quentin Prison, where he died in 1902.

PITCHERS AND CATCHERS REPORT!!!

2 weeks until Spring Training ...

probably the most lethal pitching machine in human history, the windup and delivery of Sandy Koufax was a flawless ballet of focused, explosive energy. He defied physics, and nearly every batter he ever faced...

Christy Matthewson pitched three shutouts in six days to dominate the Philadelphia Athletics and win the 1905 World Series for the NY Giants. Inventor of the "fadeaway pitch" now commonly referred to as the changeup, he set the NL single season mark at 37 wins, a record that still stands. He ultimately won 373 games over 17 seasons.

LOVE SONG

Had we but world enough, and time...

Valentine's Day
(Steve Earle)

I come to you with empty hands
I guess I just forgot again
I only got my love to send
On Valentine's Day

I ain't got a card to sign
Roses have been hard to find
I only hope that you'll be mine
On Valentine's Day

I know that I swore that I wouldn't forget
I wrote it all down: I lost it I guess
There's so much I want to say
But all the words just slip away

The way you love me every day
Is Valentine's Day

If I could I would deliver to you
Diamonds and gold; it's the least I can do
So if you'll take my IOU
I could make it up to you
Until then I hope my heart will do
For Valentine's Day

LAURA

excerpts from "THE INNER LIFE OF LAURA BUSH"

“…so then B’rer Rabbit comes along and says “howdy” to Tar Baby…”

“…honey, you’re stepping on my toe…seriously…HONEY…”

"...I think I'll face this way instead so I can look at all the people..."

"...look! I'm Mary Poppins! Wee!..."
"...would you mind sharing that thing? I'm getting soaked over here..."

“…That feels like a little Jesus statue....George, did you take a Cialis? …”

“..this is so FUN. I wonder where she bought that dress. Talbots? Hmmm…”

“…actually, it’s a little Jesus statue…you see, Bob Dole gave me these pills a while back…”

“…George, do I look hippy in this? I feel hippy…”
“huh? You’re not a hippy, fer crying out loud we're Republicans….you, uh, just keep smiling…”

“…a what? A blue dress? Well I’d have to look…”

“George, it’s been three hours now…I have to PEE….”

“..actually, that’s a very good question….I’m actually TERRIFIED of vacuum cleaners….funny story……”

...

THE FOOL ON THE HILL

look dearie, all the little subjects are skittering about...

yes, let's do...

DUST IN THE WIND

Remember that you are ashes, and to ashes you shall return…

I’m reading “102 Minutes,” the story of the people who were in the WTC when the planes hit. Fascinating, gripping stuff. More palpable and amazing in that they were all my NYC neighbors at the time, and inspiring to read how many of them forfeited their own lives in an effort to save others … furthermore, a refreshing way to get this sort of information—off a printed page, rather than from some necktied talking head with a producer in his earpiece telling him to exude gravitas…

& yes, apropos to my own mortality contemplations on this Ash Wednesday …

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SPRING CAN REALLY HANG YOU UP THE MOST

...about two dozen of these critters in my backyard on Sunday...

not much to say today, just getting some data backup done before the big computer/system move later this week....

but it occurred to me that the conflicting groundhog reports of last week might actually add up to an early spring...the geese are honking and I've got robins cavorting in my backyard...which reminded me that I recently authored a work of great literary merit. enjoy:

Groundhog Day (a haiku)

O, Groundhog! Get up!
It is freaking cold out here,
Wait until springtime.

...

BANG A GONG

...YOU'VE GOT A HUBCAP DIAMOND STAR HALO...

The wireless network is up and working. Thudstaff’s brother-in-law is a true gent…

Football is over. Time for baseball. Time for spring.

The recording studio gear is moving to a larger part of the house this week. After the initial setup I’ll post some pics of the new layout…when you were a kid, did you ever have a fort, a secret clubhouse, a treehouse, a special place? Yeah, well that’s exactly what this is…except it’s loaded with expensive toys and girls are allowed…

the soundtrack/score is finished. That is to say, I am reasonably certain my end is complete, barring one or two last-minute edits. here's a link to some info on the film (includes film clips!):
Keeper of the Kohn

and oh yeah, I'm going to try and build a homemade fuzz box. I'll keep you posted...

52 degrees with sunlight beating down on fifth avenue....not bad for a Monday...

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NEAL AND JACK AND ME

On this day in 1968 Neal Cassady died, at the age of forty-one.

"Neal was an authority on subjects that hadn't been invented yet."
--Jerry Garcia

jack was sittin poker faced with bullets backed with bitches
neal hunched at the wheel puttin everyone in stitches
braggin bout this nurse he screwed while drivin through nebraska
and when she came she honked the horn and neal just barely missed a
truck and then he asked her if she'd like to come like that to californy
see a red head in a uniform will always get you horny
--from Medley: Jack & Neal/California, Here I Come by Tom Waits

'keep a step ahead, keep your mind ahead' -- (I heard his insistent voice) -- 'don't butt your dumb head against their walls, man! - look for doors, and then GO - Just leave them snarled up in their worries, their motives - it's their kick man, it's their dreary high - But, listen - never knock the way the other cat swings.'"
-- from Go by John Clellon Holmes, 1952

. . . the evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what's going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty.
-- from On the Road by Jack Kerouac, 1957

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AMERICAN PIE

You can decide for yourself how much of last night's tawdry fiction has to do with today's entry, but simply put - today is the day the music died. 1959. Clear Lake, Iowa.

The ensuing irony and metaphor I leave for you to fill in for yourself. I will only add this solitary thought: I live in New York City. If I wanted to see theater I'd walk a few blocks north and buy a ticket.

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HAPPY TALK

you can't play the blues on a banjo...

Good day, fair reader. It has been a few dark days of morose eschewment of joy for yours truly, my consonants shorn from my tongue & typewriter in a bitter and unwavering spittle of monotonal grey. Today I am reporting from the field that the dank fog of my inner befuddlement has lifted. Why? Who knows? I certainly do not. My wireless network continues to frustrate, my longing for wild fast times in the swingin’ city continues apace from my suburban hermitage, and the cheerless blanket of dirty white frosting has yet to commence with a vigorous melting thaw.

A couple of things, I suppose—first, it seems we actually employ a knowledgeable IT person here at magazine central, and so my work machine is finally spyware-free. And a much-needed tune-up. It's purring like a jaguar. Second: sunlight. Warm and bright enough for a little jaunt up broadway, where I did a little shopping for my young one, who has discovered the TV this week….viva la baby Einstein!! Third, a new recording which I produced the day of the killed party. Sounds tits. Big. Loud. Great riff. It'll be a gas to play with a live drummer. And fourth, I suppose, would be the completion of a presentation draft for some rather dicey research which we had been solicited to make non-dicey. Off to the executives, out of my hair….

And only Wednesday! What a moody bipolar bastard am I! Jeepers!

Guitar Geek News: I shimmed the nut on my telecaster last night, and managed to get rid of some bad bad buzzing. Used my pal Joe Kaufman’s technique of using spent metrocard material—thin and tough, the plastic is easily shaped and can be layered to adjust height by small increments. No idea if it deadens the vibrations (it sounds OK to me so far), but I think with a little glue and monster snot, she’ll work out just jake…

p.s. I caught a bit of that “Ray” movie in the virgin megawhore…..oscars, lead actor, jamie foxx is a lock…..

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