My Wall…
…is not really MY wall, but OUR wall. Long ago I named it “P.Floyd” [“…good morning worm, Your Honor… showing feelings of an almost human nature…”] We, the people of Alameda, keep our wall at Lower Washington Park adjacent to the tennis courts. Two or three times a week for the past fourteen years I’ve smacked P. Floyd repeatedly, hours at a time, with yellow spheres that go thwack as they ricochet off my trusty ‘Prince’ of a racquet. I’ve made use of Mr. Floyd to warm up for a match, instruct others, become instructed by others or more often than not just for exercise. Today, while dancing back and forth twixt fore and backhand, Frank blaring in my headphones to the words of Cole Porter [and, yes I do “…have you under my skin…”, as you well know, sweety], with the sun fighting the overcast and losing its battle, I thought of nothing or no one but you.
Vintage Cars/Vintage Me
Downtown Alameda hosted a Vintage Car Show yesterday. Piped in 50s and 60s mucus [sic], an Elvis impersonator and a bevy of Fuzzy Dice [ hey, I don’t tell you what to like so indulge my ‘fuzzy dice thang’. Thanks. I knew you would] added to it. Without question, the Cars were the stars of the show. For me it was the restored Austin Healey T3000. Same model Airman Tyko, U.S.A.F. owned in 1967. Memories include the one day it ran well. One freakin’ day only… but what a day it was.
Alameda Or Alabama? Where Am I?
My hamlet is an East Bay Island, Alameda, in northern California. Yes, the “progressive and liberal” Bay Area… Last week it was revealed that in June of 2005, the Republican Mayoral candidate, Doug deHaan was recorded and videoed while referring to African Americans as “tar babies”. Has he withdrawn from the race? No. Has he resigned from the City Council? No. When will he, I ask. If Socrates was correct, this racist’s thinking reflects the view of a great many of my neighbors. If so, I may need to find a slightly more remote Island to live on… Room on Crete?
Rumor has it…
…that minutes after pitcher Corey Lidle was confirmed as the pilot that crashed his toy into the New York highrise President Bush wanted to launch an attack on Yankee Stadium… he would have but he couldn’t come up with an exit plan, yet again… over.
John O’Neil…
…passed away Friday. When the “powers that be” voted to exclude this former Negro League [great] player, manager, first black coach in the Major Leagues and founder of the Negro League Museum in Kansas City, “Buck” [as he was known] implored us to “shed no tears”. His exclusion, for reasons never fully explained, was a TRAVESTY. He was perhaps the greatest ambassador baseball ever knew. I listened to him then and shed no tears. I saved them for now. Rest in peace Buck.
Random Thoughts…
…It seems, the less I post-the more people view my blog…
New England rocks…
Cell phones are indispensable, but a royal pain in the arse…
as trippy as it is to see the Mets take a 2-0 lead in the playoffs, I know that the Dodgers are better than the way they’ve played and not trading for pitching at the deadline may come back to haunt.
What will hurt the G.O.P. more than the actions of former Congressman Foley [a sick puppy], was the [alleged] coverup by his fellow fellows… Will there ever be a better time to take back our country than this coming November 7th?
I ‘saw’ it on the radio: “The over-reaction in the media and by MLB to Bonds and steroids, and the undereaction to Clemmons and steroids may be ‘race related’?”. MAY BE? DUH!!
The End
Fantasy Baseball season ended Sunday. Our Sea Otter, led by such luminaries as Holliday, Atkins, F.Thomas, B. Hall, Mussina, Rogers, Glavine, DeLuca, Ja. Weaver and J.J. Putz [announcers pronounce it ‘Pootz’, but I know better], finished in a flat footed tie with “Max and Dad” for third-only 7 points behind the champion “Bonecrushers”, four points behind the 2nd place “Tokey” and only a point and a half ahead of “Willie’s Mo Pena”. Seven other teams bit our dust. Sadly, The End.
Comfortably Zoned with Ralph Zig Tyko 