They Cheer When Someone Hits a Soft Single

They Cheer When Someone Hits a Soft Single

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Sports are fun, or supposed to be, anyway. A diversion. This is the sort of life they’re supposed to be a diversion from. Real work. Sports-watching has become attenuated over the years. Because there’s so much money and fame in it, playing games professionally has nudged out and replaced the reason for its existence, which is the amusement of people who need to plop themselves in a chair at the end of a long day. Even if it is a barstool. Cradle to grave, playing sports is considered a world unto itself.

If I could bet on the oil rig worker in the video, I would. I suppose I am, in a way, because I’m driving around in a car, and I need what he’s drilling for. If I could cheer for him, I would. I suppose I am, by posting this video.

This Guy Understands Marketing

This Guy Understands Marketing

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According to George Orwell, advertising is “the rattling of a stick inside a swill-bucket.” Well, marketing is a form of advertising. Or is advertising a form of marketing?  I forget which is what. Anyway, one thing I know for sure is that a 1988 Dodge Aries was a swill bucket, so we’re on the right track here.

I have noticed one flaw in the pitch, however. There’s no “call to action” at the end. He should urge you to go out and buy a 1988 Dodge Aries. That’s easier than it sounds, even though we’re in a millennium that begins with a “2” now. That’s because within a few months of manufacture, all Dodge Aries had broken down, been abandoned with the keys in the ignition in a bad neighborhood, been stolen, been abandoned by the thieves shortly after, towed, scrapped, crushed, and recycled into low-grade steel that was subsequently used to make cheap tricycles suitable for step-children. You can buy one at the local K-Mart. To get the biggest savings on your tricycle, make sure to make your purchase 15 minutes before the K-Mart closes, which in general is 15 minutes from whatever time you’re reading this.

Other than that: flawless.

Well, It’s That Time of Year Again

Well, It’s That Time of Year Again

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Ah, sorta-spring in the northern climes. You don’t know whether you’re going to need a snow shovel for a late-season dump or a regular shovel for mud season. There’s seems to be a forty-degree difference between sweating in the sunshine and shivering in the shade. One side of your house has icicles, the other has squirrels chewing at the eaves.

That’s the time a young man’s mind turns to snowmobile/Ferrari racing.

Let Me Toluol a Story

Let Me Toluol a Story

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Once upon a time, Handsome Squidward  built a Sopwith Camel. It was marvelous beyond belief. In less than eight minutes, it transported me back to a time and place of peaceful contentment, toothpicks, Testor’s Pla, and squirrel hair brushes. Then the only German pilot who couldn’t possible shoot down an airplane, or hit anything else for that matter, showed up. The end.