Friday, July 30, 2004

My Calling

Yesterday, in the midst of a shitty day at work, I figured out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I want to be a cartoonist. Not just a cartoonist, drawing, but writing and producing the stuff. I began my journey today with the first step, I emailed a guy on SOSH who has experience in the industry.

I asked him a lot of questions and for advice. Once I get that settled and see what kind of path is before me, I am going to go for it with more desire than anything I ever have. If I need to go to California or Georgia or Timbucktoo in order to reach my goal, I'll do it.

Yesterday I had an ephiphany. I can't do the cube thing any more. I just can't. It's not my style, I need to be able to work at something that I am passionate about. I dig my job, it's not a bad job, but I want my job to define my life. That sounds stupid, and I never thought that I would say that, but when I walk down the street I want someone to say, "Hey, there goes Byron the cartoonist."

I have ideas. They're in my head. I just need someone to take a chance on me.

I think that is why I get so pissed when I see art done by people who look like they don't give a shit. They have the best jobs in the world. Every day they leave their marks on the world. They aren't invisible. I want that to be me. If it ever is me, I promise not to be lazy or take anything for granted. I give my word on that.

Interesting show on. It's all about Death Row Records and the rap wars of the 90s. Great show, called "Welcome to Death Row". It's a documentary that interviews all of the major players, Dre, Snoop, Suge Knight, Nate Dogg, all of them. Great stuff. I wish I had this channel, True. I think it's a Starz channel.

Tonight's my last night in Amesbury. Even though I've had a shitty week (work stuff, personal stuff) I felt a little sad driving home from work knowing that I'm not going to be here tomorrow night. It's sort of stupid because I can not wait to go home, see my girlfriend, be in my own bed, watch my own TV, shit on my own toilet. But when I come home, I come back to a place with a lot of great memories. When I leave, it feels like I'm leaving those memories behind and I'm always afraid of forgetting.

I don't ever want to forget.

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Things to do while it's raining in Baltimore

There is nothing worse than a rain delay. Actually, that's bullshit, there are a lot of things worse than a rain delay. To prove it, we're going to play a little game called, "Watching TV with 19thoughts". I'm going to start flicking around channels and commenting on what I see. It's is 9:02 on Tuesday, July 27th ... this could ge interesting.

First thing I'm watching is NESN. Like I said before, there is a rain delay going on so they have the Red Sox team doctor on telling people about the injuries on the Sox. This guy is completely full of shit. Which, I guess, he has to be. He's just talking to kill some time and Eric Friede (who is the talking head yesing Herr Doctor to death) is terrible.

The doctor talks, Friede doesn't listen, he's thinking about his next question. There are no follow-ups, no breaks between questions, nothing. Friede is a question machine gun. Jesus, he's fucking terrible. The doctor is talking about how Pedro is facing Johan Santana on Sunday and what a great match up this will be which prompts Friede to start talking about the rain.

Why doesn't he ask why this will be a great matchup? What is Santana's record? Jesus Friede, it's fucking baseball, not rocket science. You know what? This might be the Boston Globe's Bob Hoehler (spelling?) If it is, forget about all the doctor comments. Friede still blows.

Let's turn on VH1 Classic, first, let's go to HBO. "Malibu's Most Wanted" is on. I thought this was going to be a funny ass movie. It's not. Jamie Kennedy plays a white guy who thinks he's black. His dad drops him off in Compton to scare the black out of him. Right now Jamie is jumping around because he just shot his foot accidentally. The channel is being changed.

I changed the channel again, now "Da Ali G" show is on. I wasn't a huge fan, but I've seen a bunch of clips and he's pretty funny. Right now he's pretending to be an Arab helping some guy run for governor. He walked up to a dude that looks like John Smoltz and told him to feel his penis. The guy running for governor was pissed and told him to take a walk.

Now he's in front of the Oklahoma legislature and asked them for a ten-minute moment of silence and giving people compliments ... like he wants to make romance inside of you. Funny stuff. Now he has a bunch of family-first conservatives on a talk show and he's asking them a bunch of questions about whether parents should allow their kids to watch them having sex.

It's amazing to me that people don't realize that this guy is just putting them on. There are a lot of clueless mofrackies out there.

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

I'm getting closer to my home ...

Actually, I'm not closer to my home. I am home. In Amesbury. For a whole week.

The reason is because of the Democratic National Convention. Even though I call Somerville home, it's close enough to Boston to be shut down. Sort of blows, but it's sort of like I'm at a hotel. A hotel where everyone knows my name, but a hotel none the less.

The Sox are on a bit of a roll, after beating up (literally) the Yankees this weekend, by taking two out of three games, the Sox just smoked the Orioles 12-5. I'm not 100% sure, but I don't think they hit a dinger tonight. That's good news, I love homers, but I'm starting to get worried that this team relies too much on the big inning.

Didn't do a hell of a lot this weekend, basically just chilled out and relaxed. Went to Aly's parents' house on Friday and Sunday and went to my house on Saturday. Two interesting things happened on Saturday. The better of the two stories was the we saw "Anchorman", funny, funny movie. Will Farrell completely cracks me up. This was a weird movie that was right up my alley.
The one sucky thing was that we went to the mall that day, and I got so pissed because of the crowds (it was like Christmas in July) and the idiocy of the crowds, that I ended up yelling at a gaggle of teenie boppers. I am really beginning to think that I shouldn't be allowed out of the house. All I do is yell and scream at people.

Someone is definitely going to kick my ass very soon.

Just a shitty day at work ... I don't feel like getting into it, but if anyone is reading this and knows of a new job, let me know.

It is hot in this room, I swear to Christ, it feels as if somone is trying to gas me. Speaking of gas, I sometimes take a pilates class at the gym. Today we were doing some stretching and I completely ripped ass . Not only was it loud, but it fucking reaked too. I don't think many of the ladies there were too appreciative of that.

Tomorrow night I'm either going to write about watching TV or I'm going to rip Marmaduke again. I found an awesome article about Greg Anderson andit really shows what a tool he is.

Until then.

Hopefully this will go up now.

Friday, July 23, 2004

Malaise days

Things aren't going too badly, they aren't going great, but they aren't too bad. Some news and notes from around the Magrane world, before we start  our new feature, comics that make me puke.

* Last night we won. I played like shit. Went 0-3 with three pop ups, twice with the bases loaded. Fuck, was I pissed. Man, that just pissed me off. I guess I answered the question that has been plauguing me for lo these many years, would I rather be on a good team but suck or be on a sucky team but play well.

Ah well, we learn something new every day. Two weird things happened in the game last night: a guy on the other team was run out of the game for arguing and another guy on the other team seperated his shoulder. They actually drove the ambulance on the field. I felt sort of weird because everyone gathered around him while he was laying on the ground except for me. What am I going to do there? I thought it was pretty lame, but that's just me.

* I learned something else last night, Aly's friend Abbey thinks I'm a total cheapskate. And not in a good way. She was talking shit about how I never paid for anything when we went to the Cape and how I never bought her a drink when she showed up to Aly's birthday. Supposedly I also bitched about paying a $3 cover to see a shitty band at a crappy bar.

Now, I can pinch a penny until it screams, but I'm not cheap. For one thing, I spent $120 that weekend at the Cape, a weekend that Abbey said was going to be, "A cheap, relaxing weekend." The only thing her meathead boyfriend paid for was for a pizza. When I told him I had to get money at an ATM, he was like, "Ahhh, don't worry about it." And I never crabbed about paying a cover. Never have, never will. I have zero problem paying to see entertainment.

As far as not buying her a drink at Aly's birthday, fuck her, it's not her birthday. Who do I look like, rich Uncle Pennybags? The thing that sucks most about this is that I don't give two shits if Abbey thinks I'm a cheapskate, but it really bothers Aly.

* Today we had a health fair. As part of the health fair, they had free ten minute massages. I wish I never went. This woman gave me a massage, no happy ending, with her gigantic man hands. My right shoulder fucking kills me and my neck hurts too. WTF?

* I've decided that I'm not going to swear anymore, at least out loud. I don't know how I'm going to quit it, but I will.

Ahhhh, I can not get Marmaduke cartoon to show up on this blog. I wish I could it is really lame. Marmaduke is sitting in the front seat of a taxi cab, his paw on the steering wheel. His owner comes over to Marm and says, "Where's the cabbie?"

Here are a number of things that are wrong with this stupid cartoon. The strip's running joke is that he's a big dog, not that he's smart. Why would he be in a taxi, and why do we presume that he can drive? Just because you're big doesn't mean that you're intelligent. Case in point, Ralph Sampson, he's a tall dude, but dumb as a post.

And the art. Oh man, Brad Anderson must've been late to the front nine that day. In the panel there is Marmaduke, his owner (who doesn't even have a name), the cab and a squigly line that is meant to be a cloud. The guy draws one panel a day. One. You think if he was going to be a minimalist he wouldn't waste lines. He's just lazy.

Hopefully this URL will be able to bring you there:

And the punchline, what the hell is up with this hackneyed piece of garbage. It's like Anderson had an interesting idea, Marmaduke in a cab (which we've seen a million times, the only other non-family humans he deals with are dog catchers, cops and ice cream men). But after that he just litteraly drew (see that's funnier than his joke) a blank.

If Brad Anderson ever happens upon this Blog, I beg you, I beseach you, I plead with you to give this vocation up. You've had a great run, but your old and tired. There are no more Marmaduke tales to tell.

The other day I was in the shower and I was thinking about my hatred of Marmaduke and where it comes from. I think it began way back in 1980 (or 81). That year, ABC had a great Saturday morning cartoon in Heathcliff. He rocked, a poor man's Garfield ... except funnier. Heathcliff, with his woman Sonja and the rest of his family ruled, just funny as hell. (And I'm not talking about the mid 80s DIC, syndicated story). This Heathcliff was true to his comic strip roots and kept it real.

Well, ABC must not have been getting good ratings, so they paired him up with Marmaduke. I was furious. Marmaduke sucked. And to make matters worse he halfed my Heathcliff intake, so instead of 30 minutes, there was only 15. After that year, Heathcliff was gone. I can still remember a part of the jingle, which also took a shot at Marm:

"Heathcliff and Marmaduke
The hot dog cat
And the pussy cat hound"

And that describes Marmaduke perfectly, he's a pussy.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

I'm an asshole

Today, for some reason, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Actually, that's incorrect, when I woke up I was in a fine mood. I got enough sleep, I thought that the Red Sox won and I jumped in the shower. When I got out of the shower, I saw that the Sox blew it in the 11th and I got ready to go to work.

It takes about 50 minutes to get from Somerville, where I live, to Marblehead, where I work. Normally this isn't that bad of a commute, but I'm getting real sick of it. Driving simply sucks. When I got to work I realized that I had to go to Best Buy to pick up an iPod for a conference.

I drive into Danvers and go into Best Buy. No dice. I walk next door to Target and asked if they have iPods. The worker said yes, so I went to the electronics department and wait for five minutes. This 16-year-old kid walks by and ask him where the electronics guy is. He calls "Nathan" and tells me he'd be there in a few seconds.

Five minutes go by and no Nathan. The same kid goes walking by again and he says that Nathan is on break. I ask if he can get him. He says no problem. Another couple of minutes go by. I'm getting very inpatient now and walk over to Customer Service. They tell me that Nathan should be there, but he's on break. I'm like "I don't care, I need an iPod." They say someone will be over shortly.

Another few minutes go by and here comes the kid that told me that Nathan was on break twice. He says he's got the keys and the scanner and will be able to get me an iPod. Perfect. He scans the 15GB iPod. "Sorry, we don't have that one."

"That's fine, get me the other."

"We don't have that one either."

I completely lose my shit. "You mean to tell me that I've been waiting here for 15 fucking minutes and you don't have this? Why didn't you tell me this in the first place. You're a friggin retard."

The kid apologized and that made me more angry. "This store fucking sucks," I yelled and walked out.

Here's the thing, after I did that, I felt terrible on one hand and not so terrible on the other. Terrible because I lost my cool on some kid who probably gets paid $6.00 an hour who really has no control over the situation. In my defense, the kid obviously didn't give a shit. He did just enough to get me off his back. He didn't give two shits about me or the old couple that was asking for his help.

I watched as no less than five people passed me without asking if I needed a hand. Contrast this to Best Buy who were almost up my ass asking if I needed help and CompUSA (where I ended up getting the iPod) where they were also pretty quick and helpful. I may write a letter to Target, maybe I can get something free.

So when I was in my car, I was thinking of all the things I'd like to do besides work, here is a short list:
  • Write a screen play or sitcom
  • Take hallucenigenic mushrooms
  • Move to Ireland and open a pub
  • Paint
  • Read philosophy books
  • Move to Los Angeles
  • Travel to Italy or Spain
  • Create a cartoon

So the Sox sucked last night, and they were very close to blowing an 8-1 lead tonight. I was thisclose to giving up on them if they did that tonight. They drive me nuts. Speaking of teams that drive me nuts, I give you the Reading Softball Dominos. We're freaking terrible.

Last night we lost 11-3, making at least eight errors. And it wasn't just physical errors, there were a bunch of mental ones too. Throwing behind runners, thinking we can nail guys at home, swinging for the fences. We're terrible. And even though I went 1-3 with an RBI, I air mailed a throw from right that almost went into the street.

But the worst part was after the game, finger pointing, back biting, crying, bitching ... I felt like I was in a sorrority house. Just a bunch of friggin babies. I hope it changes ... in the very least, there are only four games left. One being tomorrow.

Either tomorrow night or Thursday night, I'm coming back with another edition of "Watching TV with 19." I bet you bastards can't wait for that. Also, I think I'm going to start looking at all of the comic strips I hate and commenting on them here. That should be a lot of fun.


Wednesday, July 14, 2004

It sucks when the Red Sox aren't on ... or does it?

Normally, the All-Star break just blows. There is no baseball, the rest of the networks are in summer reruns and I'm too lazy to read.

This year is a bit different. I sort of have a life with things to do besides watch TV and goof off in front of my computer. Actually, I have a thing (singular) to do.

It was game five of my resurrected (is that how you spell resurected? I wish I could ask Jesus, I bet he'd know. Christ was a hell of a speller, I believe he was all Gallilee County at the Grammar Rodeo. No shit.) softball career. We came roaring back with nine runs in the sixth inning to beat the other team 16-13. Yours truly went 2-3, with a pair of RBIs and two runs scored. Without me, we lose 13-12.

Maybe, maybe not. I also played some pretty good defense. It feels good to contribute. I upped my average to an even .400 (6-15). God, what a geek, but hey, I'm having a good time. It's all about confidence ... kids remember that. Confidence.

So I'm watching TV now (very surprising) and I have to say that VH1 has done another good job with a list show. I Love the 90s is the latest in a long line of I Love shows. And this is cool.

Is it too early for a retrospective on a decade that ended four years ago? Yeah. Most definitely. But, they were going to do it any way because I Love the 70s and 80s were so insanely popular. I've been totally obsessed with the series having watched two episodes on Monday, one yesterday and one today. I have the other two (1992 and 1994) TiVoed. I have to find time to watch it.

A friend of mine is leaving work on Friday. Actually I used to hate this guy when I first met him, I thought he was a loud-mouthed New York prick. But he kind of grew on me and now I don't think he's so creepy. If you get past the whole New York thing, he's really one of the nicest people I work with.

A couple of us went out to lunch with him today, and I think he was a bit disappointed that more people didn't go. In fact I know he was disappointed. That sucks. Chuck is a good guy, but I think he thinks that he should be a bit more popular. I wanted to tell him, "Dude it's work, who fucking cares?" But I don't think he'd get it.

Then he said to me, "Byron you don't really seem to be in a clique here at work. Why not?" I was like "There are cliques here?" Playing dumb, then I said "Dude I have enough people pissed at me, no need to have more people mad."

Not very witty, but sort of true. Actually the truth is work is fucking work. I don't care if anyone likes me. Speaking of people liking me, or not liking me. I got an email from that chick Shelly who ripped me for my "letter" that we spoke about yesterday and the day before.

She apologized (as an aside I'm watching the I Love the 90s and Time writer Joel Stein comes on. This guy is on every fucking list show. VH1, TLC, E!, The Weather Channel. Everything. I bet he doesn't even write any more.) and said she'd let her readers know the real story.

Ok, I have to go brush my teeth.

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Fall out from "my" letter to the Boston Metro

I told my workmate Diane the whole sorted story that I regaled you all with yesterday and she wanted to see the letter. She Googled my name and came up with this:

Go about half way down the page to read it (and as an added bonus, check out the letter).

Apparently, this person is not very happy with me ... or the person pretending to be me.

I emailed her, hopefully she emails back. More news to come ...

Monday, July 12, 2004

My evil DNC-hating dopplenganger and other junk

This is kind of a funny story, but it takes a lot to follow, so you might have to read this twice (or depending how well I write it, three times).

I had a neighbor named Donna, who moved away from Amesbury 20 years ago. Out of nowhere she called my dad two weeks ago and said, "Mike, I can't believe that Byron writes for the Boston Metro (a free daily paper given away in the subway)."

For some reason my dad said, "Yeah. How about that?" Even though I don't write for the Boston Metro. Then Donna said to him, "I'll send you the paper." My dad says cool and hangs up the phone.

My mom calls me a few days later and relays the story to me. I know that I don't work at the metro, but still I think, "Hmmmm. Interesting. Maybe I did write something." The reason why I say this is because in March Aly and I entered a contest on to come up with a slogan that would get gay people to visit Boston.

My second choice "Boston is absolutely hub-ulous!" What was my first one? "In Boston you'd only be the second most hated minority in town!" Ok, the first one was the true one and one of the copy desk people at the Boston Globe called me and said they were going to print the quip. The thing was I looked in the next day's edition, and it was never there. So I assumed that this "article" was simply the pithy quote I made up.

Fast forward a week, I see my parents they bring the paper. It's not an article, it's not the horrible pun, it is a letter to the editor shooting down the Democratic National Convention. I read it once, I read it twice. It was by a very angry man that his city was being closed down by the Democrats.

The problem was I never wrote it. It had my name, but I never wrote it. It's not like I have a very common name, so this has kind of bugged me a bit.

Why would someone write this and sign my name? It wasn't inflamatory, it wasn't particularly funny, it was a well, thought out rant against the Democrats. I should probably email the Metro, but I haven't had the time.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

More in-depth Spidey review

I posted this on SOSH last ngiht, and while I feel uber-geeky about reposting this, I thought it summed up my thoughts on the movie pretty well:

Saw this flick Friday night and I was blown away. Thought that it was a tremendous flick, easily my favorite comic movie. The CGI was great, the story was tremendous and acting wasn't half bad either.

To the folks who have a problem with the movie, I ask were you read the comics? Because if you haven't then I can see where you're coming from. For over 40 years, Peter Parker has second-guessed and doubted himself in just about every situation that he has been in.

IIRC there was an issue of the Avengers where they asked him to be apart of their group, Spidey felt he couldn't hang with them and said no.

If the script writers had him as a brash, cocky costumed adventurer then it wouldn't be Spider-man. Tobey Maguire is perfect as PP.

As far as Gwen Stacey, I doubt we'd see her because Rami said that MJ is a combo of the comic MJ Watson and Stacey. I wonder if the blonde who lives in Peter's building becomes the Black Cat. That would take a lot of liberties (because the Cat was rich) but it might be fun. BTW, I thought she was going to be in his room when MJ stopped by.

As far as the next villain, I think it's probably going to be the Green Goblin (maybe the Hobgoblin). And the fourth will be the Lizard and the Man Wolf. Not sure who will be the fifth (maybe Mysterio), but in the sixth it would be pretty cool if the Kingpin got all of the bad guys (from the previous movies) to try and get Spidey.

All in all, a great flick and a great franchise. I'm really looking forward to Spidey 3.

Ok, this needs a bit of editing, but it should be pretty followable. That's not a word, but I trust you get it's meaning.

My favorite show in the world is on, Arrested Development. So I'm not going to be sticking around for so long. See you tomorrow.

Saturday, July 10, 2004

I'm back ... as are the Red Sox

As Robert Plant once warbled, "It's been a long time since I rock and rolled." Well, I'm no Robert Plant, and I'm not rocking and/or rolling, but I am typing some of thoughts. (Lucky you)

One of the main reasons why I haven't written in more than a week is because I was in Atlanta for four days, went to a Sox game on Tuesday, Aly (my girlfriend) made dinner for my folks on Wednesday and saw Spider-man last night.

Before I get into the Atlanta stuff, I must say the Spider-man is the best comic book movie I've ever seen ... beating out X-Men 2. No matter how "cool" you think you are later in life, if you were once a comic book geek, it never goes away. It may stay in remission, but it will never completely leave you. As a CBG, I thought this movie stayed true to it's comic roots. Peter Parker was played very well by Tobey Maguire who really had to do some acting to be as downcast as Parker.

The CGI was awesome. Doc Ock actually looked like he had those added legs and the fight scenes were bad ass. Truly a fun, interesting summer flick.

On to Atlanta, interesting town. There were some things I liked, some things I disliked. A list would make it easier to convey my thoughts:

1. The pace. I sort of liked this when I had the time, but get very pissed when I was in a rush. Example, we went to Fat Matt's for barbeque. Tremendous ribs, pulled pork, buffalo wings, etc. The one thing: they aren't exactly flashes behind the counter. Very slow, deliberate, etc. Not a big deal as we were also taking our time.

On the flip side. We were at the airport and I was starving. The flight was leaving in 20 minutes, so I thought I had a chance for a quick bite to eat. Went to three different "restaurants" and at each, the help was slower at one place than the next. Got pissed and left.

2. The attitude. The folks I met were pretty nice, way nicer than New Englanders (which isn't saying much, because we're all a bunch of pricks). Anyway, I was at the Braves game and was standing in line waiting to pay for my food. A guy cut in front of me accidently. I let it slide, but the guy figured out that he cut me and said, "Sir, I'm so sorry for cutting your spot. Please go ahead of me."

I looked at him like he was nuts, because not a lot of folks up here do that sort of thing. Usually their attitude is, "Eff you pal, you shoulda been watching." It was nice that strangers were civil to each other.

3. Went to Distant Replays. This store just rules. It's basically a museum where you can buy the artifacts. Any sort of NHL, NBA, MLB and NFL stuff, including leagues that aren't in existence any more. I found a 1989 Bo Jackson light blue Royals jersey. I've wanted one of these things since I was a kid. $325. Maybe when I'm rich.

I ended up buying a 1986 Mariners cap and a Philadelphia Blue Jays T-shirt. Not a bad score.

4. Public transportation. This is more of a Boston thing, but it occurred when I was on the way to the airport. Had to take the bus instead of the T to Government Center. Haven't been on a bus since I was in high school. Still hate it. You take all of the fun of traffic and add the smelly public of a subway and that's a bus. Totally sucked. I've never been happier to be on a T.

5. Turner Field. Gorgeous stadium. Sensory overload. In a few words: way better than Fenway. Any type of food that you want, pretty good sight lines, and just a bunch of other stuff to do. I'm a baseball purist as much as the next guy, but you have to be able to contemporize (is that a word? I heard it on the Simpsons once and like it).

Not everyone can sit still for nine innings and watch a game, these days a majority of people just don't have that kind of attention span. So I don't think there's anything wrong with having a pitching cage, batting cage, bar and restaurant in the park. It gives people something to do, and if they have a good time and comeback for more fun, even better.

BTW, Aly bought a pink Braves cap. I was never happier, because now she won't wear that stupid Yankees cap.

6. Had a lot of fun with Aly's brother John, his wife Christie and their son Joey. Just the consomate hosts, and Joey (who is two-years-old) is just cute as hell. I can see why people have kids, while it's a lot of hard work, I bet the reward is equally as good.

On Tuesday me and some buddies went to see the Sox hammer the A's. Got to stand in the new right field section. Great place to watch a game, if you don't mind heights, which I sort of do. The Sox haven't lost since then and are completely hammering the Rangers right now (11-6) in the fifth inning. Manny has gone yard twice and Texas actually brought in "Way Back" Wasdin.

There is nothing better if Way Back gets the call against your team. The Sox cuffed him around like he stole something.

Thursday, July 01, 2004

Curses are for sailors

It's amazing how time can change a man.

Yesterday while I was writing, I was pissed off because my softball team sucks and my favorite team sucks. Now, things aren't so bad in either department. Though the Red Sox could royally screw up this thesis (it's 3-3 in the bottom of the tenth right now, one man on with Gary Sheffield at bat. Update, he just hit into a 5-4-3 double play.)

In any event, last night I played in my second softball game after a three-year layoff. I haven't played much of any type of baseball, softball or wiffleball in that time because my right (throwing) shoulder kills after a few games worth of throwing.

My buddy Nick asked me to join his team because they were desperate for guys. I said ok and bought a new pair of spikes and oiled up the glove. Friday was ok, sucked in the field but got a hit. Yesterday, I blew ass. Went oh for four, and wasn't confident in the field. I felt like shit, I think that most of the guys (many whom I don't even know) felt that I was a stiff and I almost quit because I just didn't think I was able to get "it" back.

Today I ended up going 2-3 with a walk and made some pretty good plays at second base. So now I am feeling real good and glad that I played another game. The guys seemed to turn towards me tonight and it seems to me they think that I can handle the game.

I just reread the last couple of paragraphs. This isn't the majors and my psychoanalysis is over dramatic at best, pompous at worst. Ahh, who cares, this is a Blog, not the New Yorker.

Quick game update, Alan Embree is in, he just walked Bubba freaking Crosby and ARod is at third base. Bernie Williams scares the shit out of me. Let's see what happens.

Back to my original theory of time (BTW, Bernie lined out - phew) just 24 hours ago I didn't want to have anything to do with baseball anymore, now I can't wait to play or watch a game again.

I met my parents for dinner tonight and they gave me a lot of my mail that is still delivered to my old home. One of the things that came there is my new copy of Sports Illustrated. Going back to the end of 1986, I have every single issue. But I will say that this is my final year.

When I was a kid, I used to love SI. I'd get it on Thursday afternoon and at night I'd go to bed early so I can read every single (not woman's sports) article. Cover to cover. Hell, I remember poring over the staff box wondering if they hired anyone new.

Now, I could give a shit. I still have three unread magazines on my floor and I'm not sure when I'm going to get a chance to read them. Why don't I read them more? It's not like I have less time, there are two reasons: the internet and the supposed "dumbing down" of America.

We'll handle the Internet first since it's the easiest thing to explain. Basically, Sports Illustrated used to bring me the news of the sports world for all corners of the country within a week's time, which isn't a bad turnaround. Now, if I want to know about the Padres, I can go to the Padres website, or Instantly. Can't beat that.

The dumbing down part is a bit trickier. I don't think people have gotten dumber, but I do think that this country's editors believe that their readership is stupid. From Maxim to ESPN the magazine everything now is in bite-sized chunks. Maybe that's what folks like, I don't. It seems that once the story begins to get cooking, it's done. And they don't have the great writers that they used to. The pictures are top notch, but the writing is just ok.

So after this year, I'm done with SI. The only reason why I stuck around this year is because I was interested in the 50 states set of articles they did.

Right now, the Sox have bases loaded and no outs againt Mariano Rivera in the top of the 11th. Kevin Millar is up. Millar almost hits into a triple play, I don't know what the hell is going on. Millar hit the ball to Arod, he tagged third base and then threw home. Remy fucked me up. Jeez Rem Dog. So now McCarty is up, two outs, two strikes, men on second and first.

I wonder why Trot Nixon isn't batting? Tito Francona is really beginning to piss me off.

The one last thing I wanted to say about Sports Illustrated is about the curse thing. (McCarty flies out, what a fucking surprise) Manny is on the cover this week, which immediately sent 35 Boston resident to the top of the Tobin Bridge.

"Tha Curse of Spahts Illustrated is gonna kill us!" they all yelled as they jumped off. Boston (and New England) is a weird place. They have the best colleges and universities and tons of great hospitals. Yet we continue to act like country fried rubes with these curses.

Curse of the Bambino, the Sports Illustrated cover curse, I heard someone rejoicing because Tom Brady wasn't on the cover of Madden 2005 because of the EA curse. We're really no different from our forefathers who got their panties in a bunch over witches.

We were ruled by superstition 400 years ago, and we're still ruled by superstition.

Ok, I'm done. Tony Clark is up. Tony Clark is still cashing a major league pay check and is killing the Sox. Man, that is like getting punched in the balls by a midget, it's embarrassing and it hurts like hell.

I might not be back for a few days. I'm going to Atlanta to visit my girlfriend's brother and to see the Sox play the Bravos. Talk to you later.