Service time manipulation is happening. A new A's ballpark may not be. Sports gambling is coming to the local Piggly Wiggly. Also: wild lions and a curse.
Fraiser ended on such a perfect note that reviving it is foolish. Because I can’t imagine 15 years later Fraiser is going to be allowed to have been happy in the intervening years. Never mind that Kelsey Grammer seems to have diminished as a actor since then. But everything old is new again. Punky Brewster, for pity’s sake??
Bill James reminds me, personality-wise, of Steve Jobs. They both derived much fame and success from going against the status quo. The problem is that, at least sometimes, the status quo is correct.
Right after graduating from vet school in 2016, I moved to Las Vegas (my fiancee had gotten an internship out there). The first week I was there, I stopped at the grocery store down the street one night to grab some beers while on my way to pick up a pizza. There was a small casino in the store with about 12-15 video poker and blackjack machines with five people using them at 9 PM on a random Thursday night. I lived out there for 2.5 years and never got used to always seeing people gambling at the grocery store.
Honest question: where would the As go? other than Nashville, I’m blanking on other cities clamoring for a major league club. (Full disclosure: I blank on lots of things these days.)
So your comments on Tippi Hedren and her love of big cats spurred me to do a google search on her. Two main things about her I found:
-- Alfred Hitchcock was obsessed with her and tried on multiple occasions to force her to have sex with him -- physically manhandling her and threatening her. After one time she refused, Hitchcock unleashed birds on her while filming the famous Birds film.
-- She had a pet lion that was basically treated like the family dog. For example, the lion laid in teenaged Melanie Griffith's bed and cuddled with Teddrin in the living room.
I've been Post Office Soda Guy, and while I'm not currently Post Office Soda Guy, I am sort of wondering now whether the experience isn't as universal as I thought.
Your description nails it though. You don't wake up one day as POSG. It's a mental weight that builds over the course of a couple days. Work problems, home problems, problems with no easy solutions, problems that aren't problems, but you just don't have the headspace to deal with them right now, and they just get added to the pile. You look like shit, you feel like shit.
And then, something happens. Some sort of freak last-straw event that looks like it came out of the first half of an infomercial. The bottom of your soda falls out. My last time as POSG, I struggled to get my groceries up to the apartment, and as I was about to put them down, one bag ripped, and a large bottle of soy sauce (instrumental to the dinner I was planning) hit the ground and shattered.
In that moment, everything hits you at once, in a wall of emotion. Everything. The pressure, the stress, your appearance, your (potential) loneliness, and you don't know whether to yell or to cry.
And then you sigh, get a bunch of paper towels and start picking up the glass from your floor.
If you wanna rep Dave Parker, Luke, do it the right way and get the version of his shirt that he signed off on—and that has 10% of sales going to the Dave Parker 39 Foundation to support Parkinson’s research: https://ballnine.com/swag-shop2/the-cobra/
Craig, if you happen to see my man David Zuchinno at the symposium (and I'd be really surprised if he's not involved given his book about the riots and time with the Inquirer) be sure to tell him Les Paul says hey and "see you @ the Mule"!
I loved the Old Post Office. My friend who worked for the National Endowment for the Humanities had an office there and the best view of DC was from the tower at the top of the building, because while the Washington Monument is taller, you can't see it if you're looking down from it. From the top of the OPO you can see the entire mall with the Washington Monument as part of the vista. And I'd rather have a cheap food court there than that faux Xanadu that's there now.
For awhile in the early 2000s, Iowa had slot machines in convenience stores. Or, in the case of my small hometown's store, ONE slot machine. I am not sure what would possess a person to be stopping for a pee break and to grab a coffee to be like, "Ah, thank goodness. I was hoping to play a slot while here." But one slot machine is somehow even sadder to me. It's like the State of Iowa was begging people to have a gambling problem in the meekest voice imaginable.
Around 20 years ago, Tippi Hedren came to the winery I worked at up in Santa Ynez Valley, and she noticed we had a bunch of empty plastic barrels (they held brandy for fortifying Port). She asked if she could buy them, but we said she could have for free. Short version: we drove them down to Acton on a trailer, and she gave us a VIP tour of Shambala. She was a remarkably friendly and kind tour guide, and I concur that the only thing she cared about was the welfare of those big cats and other animals. I've met my share of celebrities, and she was definitely the most interesting - she showed us the scars on her legs that her 'pet' lions had given her. The one thing I appreciated about Shambala's mission was that they consistently treated the cats as wild and dangerous animals and drove home the point that nobody should own them as pets (she and her daughter especially learned that the hard way). As for big cats, I learned that they are all fairly similar to domestic felines at feeding time, other than cougars, who are seriously vicious even when you're feeding them - do not get on their bad side! PS The reason she wanted the barrels was that her elephant liked to play with them, which we got to witness firsthand.
Fraiser ended on such a perfect note that reviving it is foolish. Because I can’t imagine 15 years later Fraiser is going to be allowed to have been happy in the intervening years. Never mind that Kelsey Grammer seems to have diminished as a actor since then. But everything old is new again. Punky Brewster, for pity’s sake??
Bill James reminds me, personality-wise, of Steve Jobs. They both derived much fame and success from going against the status quo. The problem is that, at least sometimes, the status quo is correct.
This is 2021. There HAS to be a way to track down Post Office Soda Guy, right?
Right after graduating from vet school in 2016, I moved to Las Vegas (my fiancee had gotten an internship out there). The first week I was there, I stopped at the grocery store down the street one night to grab some beers while on my way to pick up a pizza. There was a small casino in the store with about 12-15 video poker and blackjack machines with five people using them at 9 PM on a random Thursday night. I lived out there for 2.5 years and never got used to always seeing people gambling at the grocery store.
Honest question: where would the As go? other than Nashville, I’m blanking on other cities clamoring for a major league club. (Full disclosure: I blank on lots of things these days.)
So your comments on Tippi Hedren and her love of big cats spurred me to do a google search on her. Two main things about her I found:
-- Alfred Hitchcock was obsessed with her and tried on multiple occasions to force her to have sex with him -- physically manhandling her and threatening her. After one time she refused, Hitchcock unleashed birds on her while filming the famous Birds film.
-- She had a pet lion that was basically treated like the family dog. For example, the lion laid in teenaged Melanie Griffith's bed and cuddled with Teddrin in the living room.
I've been Post Office Soda Guy, and while I'm not currently Post Office Soda Guy, I am sort of wondering now whether the experience isn't as universal as I thought.
Your description nails it though. You don't wake up one day as POSG. It's a mental weight that builds over the course of a couple days. Work problems, home problems, problems with no easy solutions, problems that aren't problems, but you just don't have the headspace to deal with them right now, and they just get added to the pile. You look like shit, you feel like shit.
And then, something happens. Some sort of freak last-straw event that looks like it came out of the first half of an infomercial. The bottom of your soda falls out. My last time as POSG, I struggled to get my groceries up to the apartment, and as I was about to put them down, one bag ripped, and a large bottle of soy sauce (instrumental to the dinner I was planning) hit the ground and shattered.
In that moment, everything hits you at once, in a wall of emotion. Everything. The pressure, the stress, your appearance, your (potential) loneliness, and you don't know whether to yell or to cry.
And then you sigh, get a bunch of paper towels and start picking up the glass from your floor.
I saw Service Time Manipulation open for Industrial Shithouse at Wembley
All these reboots and they haven't done Quantum Leap? Humanity is a failure.
If you wanna rep Dave Parker, Luke, do it the right way and get the version of his shirt that he signed off on—and that has 10% of sales going to the Dave Parker 39 Foundation to support Parkinson’s research: https://ballnine.com/swag-shop2/the-cobra/
Craig, if you happen to see my man David Zuchinno at the symposium (and I'd be really surprised if he's not involved given his book about the riots and time with the Inquirer) be sure to tell him Les Paul says hey and "see you @ the Mule"!
I loved the Old Post Office. My friend who worked for the National Endowment for the Humanities had an office there and the best view of DC was from the tower at the top of the building, because while the Washington Monument is taller, you can't see it if you're looking down from it. From the top of the OPO you can see the entire mall with the Washington Monument as part of the vista. And I'd rather have a cheap food court there than that faux Xanadu that's there now.
For awhile in the early 2000s, Iowa had slot machines in convenience stores. Or, in the case of my small hometown's store, ONE slot machine. I am not sure what would possess a person to be stopping for a pee break and to grab a coffee to be like, "Ah, thank goodness. I was hoping to play a slot while here." But one slot machine is somehow even sadder to me. It's like the State of Iowa was begging people to have a gambling problem in the meekest voice imaginable.
Sometimes I wonder how Kris Bryant's grievance would have gone had Mike Olt not broken his wrist at the exact perfect time for the Cubs
Around 20 years ago, Tippi Hedren came to the winery I worked at up in Santa Ynez Valley, and she noticed we had a bunch of empty plastic barrels (they held brandy for fortifying Port). She asked if she could buy them, but we said she could have for free. Short version: we drove them down to Acton on a trailer, and she gave us a VIP tour of Shambala. She was a remarkably friendly and kind tour guide, and I concur that the only thing she cared about was the welfare of those big cats and other animals. I've met my share of celebrities, and she was definitely the most interesting - she showed us the scars on her legs that her 'pet' lions had given her. The one thing I appreciated about Shambala's mission was that they consistently treated the cats as wild and dangerous animals and drove home the point that nobody should own them as pets (she and her daughter especially learned that the hard way). As for big cats, I learned that they are all fairly similar to domestic felines at feeding time, other than cougars, who are seriously vicious even when you're feeding them - do not get on their bad side! PS The reason she wanted the barrels was that her elephant liked to play with them, which we got to witness firsthand.