Two losses to the Dodgers

Before that, two losses to the Padres. The baseball season isn't starting so hot for my team.

I feel sad. No amount of midget porn, high-grade bud, rum, and looping Led Zeppelin III will make the pain go away.

But one can try.

Here's what the Nervous Red Dog looked like as a puppy.

I feel better already.

Jesus H. Frickin' Christ

The Giants are on a pace to lose 162 games this year. Two straight losses to open the year, making the offseason personnel decisions throb in my head. The one that frosts my chaff the most is the re-signing of Pedro "Pete Happy" Feliz. The team signed former Giant Rich Aurilia first, and I liked the deal because I'd prefer Rich Aurilia over Pedro Feliz, who I figured was toast once Richie signed. Then a couple of days later they went and signed Feliz to a one year deal. Apparently, he had figured out how to take a pitch and we were going to be surprised by his keen eye for the right pitch this year.

He raised his walk total this spring to ONE. Last spring he swung at such bad pitches his walks ended up in the negative bracket.

The guy in the pic is The Crazy Crab , the Giants' hated and retroactively adored first submission to the Age Of The Costumed Mascot. He lasted one year. That year was 1984, when the Giants were the suckiest bunch of sucks that ever sucked, losing 96 games. I posted his picture because that may be as many games as this 2007 team loses. Bonds (who I love as much as the worst hater hates him) is looking reborn. Which is nice.

Of course if they win tonight, I'll be back to thinking this team may never lose a game. Like always.

Post Quiz Report: Downtown Sunday Night

Packed 'em in like sardines last night at the midtown Streets of London. The barstaff and I guessed that this was due to the local colleges starting spring break. I was a bit ruder than usual, but the crowd seemed to enjoy it. We had forty five teams which is a record, or close to a record anyway. I had to toss some loud-mouths out of the pub, which WAS a first. I threaten it weekly, but usually a warning is enough. Other than that the quiz went smoothly. First place went to a team whose name I forget but it had something to do with inadequate male endowment. Second place went to a team called "I Thought You Had To Be Smart To Be Going To College". The porno (Fishnets #3) went to a team that REALLY wanted it. The toughest question seemed to be "Name the two main ingredients in the British dish called 'Bubble & Squeak' " Only two teams got it right. (Potatoes & Cabbage). I also accepted "Potatoes & Spinach" because that's the way I first ate it. I forwent (is that the past tense of forgo?) the weekly English Premier League question and instead went with the murder of Cricket coach Bob Woolmer. Almost everyone got the question right. I debuted the new chili-pepper shirt my mom had made for me for my 50th birthday. I got many compliments. The Nervous Red Dog sat this one out, as there was a threat of rain so I left him to guard the home.

Bless Me Readers For I Have Sinned

It has been one month since my last posting. I don't know what happened. Maybe it was the extra-kine pot I sprung for. The kind my associate refers to as "The Purple Hurkle". The kind that makes me put on Lucinda Williams or The Grass Roots or the Stranglers or James Brown and annoy the neighbors. Maybe it was depression. No job, fatness, old age and all. Maybe it was something that has chased me since infancy---laziness. That was probably it. I once told my mother that a perfect epitaph for my headstone would be simply my name, the relevant dates, and the inscription: "IF ONLY HE'D APPLIED HIMSELF"

Anyway, I haven't done much lately except host The Quizzes, watch five + seasons of "24" in a row (thanks Netflix), take my significant other for his dog park play dates, and the occasional rubbing-one-out thing.

Plus the weather's been nice. We've been spending a lot of time out-of-doors sitting in front of coffee-houses. One of us eyeballing hot midtown goth or hippie chicks, the other eyeballing bits of croissant and scones. Both of us salivating.

I don't know who the guy in the picture is. I googled "priest" for a picture, and I thought he looked cool. Maybe like a guy who practiced The Ancient Religion in private, and by day lived as a priest. Maybe not.

As an act of contrition, I'll resolve to update the blog in a timely manner. Not like people are waiting for it or anything. But baseball season is upon us, as is summer, and perhaps some twisted romance. So I might have things to post about.

One more thing--They had one of those annoying stupid irritating two-day pledge drives on my local affiliate a week or so ago. The kind that makes my skin crawl.

But I gave them some of my ever-decreasing pile of not much money. Because Peter Sagal made me feel like a dick. Sometimes that's the best motivator.

Marty

Tonight I finally watched "The Departed", Martin Scorcese's nomination-laden 2006 Gangsta pic.

I enjoyed it, but I don't think I'm prepared to review it just yet. I want to let it sink in. I will say that I think "The Departed" must hold some sort of record for top-notch acting talent dying in many violent ways. Well, the gun and defenestration for two.

Which brings me to a simple set of questions, since it's "Oscar Week". If you were to spot the great director, given a list of these names, who would you say is the finely skilled talent?

1. Martin Scorcese.
2. Kevin Costner.

Or, if you're uncomfortable with the way I posed that one, how about his? Which of the following pictures is an influential masterpiece, still fresh more than 15 years after its release?

1. Goodfellas
2. Dances With Wolves

I don't know if I care to live in a world where Goodfellas was not named Best Picture, and Martin Scorcese was not named Best Director. But it happened. Martin Scorcese was passed over for someone who even Madonna thinks is a dork.

I was kidding about not wanting to live in a world yada yada yada, but still.

Great Moments In Jurisprudence

While doing a little light reading on cannibalism this morning, I came across this gem from the trial of Alferd Packer, an old prospector in Colorado who led some companions into the San Juan Mountains in 1873 and came back some weeks later, alone and suspiciously fat. He claimed that his pals left him in the wilderness, and he had just barely survived his ordeal back home. Apparently, his fatness aroused suspicion, and the discovery that he had a large collection of his companions' worldly goods in his possession didn't help his cause either.

He was convicted of murder, later reduced to manslaughter, and sent for seventeen years hard labor. At his sentencing, outraged judge Melville Geery uttered one of my favorite sentencing lines ever:

"Packer, there were only seven Democrats in Hinsdale County, and you ate five of them, you depraved Republican son of a bitch!"

Looking around on-line, I found that this may be apocryphal. But still, I prefer history to be on the side of a guy with a good one-liner, so I'm accepting it in my heart as if it happened that way.

A claim is made that Packer and Albert Fish, an extremely kinky old codger in the late 20s , were the only two people in the US ever imprisoned for cannibalism, but I doubt that. Off the top of my head, I can name Jeff Dahmer and Ed Gein. The Russians approached it differently. Take Andrei Chikatilo, the Monster of The Don. Chikatilo actually wasn't sentenced to prison, he was given a 9 mm intervention a few months following his trial.

My Favorite Day Of The Year

Nah, not Valentines' Day. My significant other is a dog, and he doesn't get the deal with such things. I'm talking about the day pitchers and catchers report to spring training. This is the day when my angst-meter is reset, and I look at all the moves the team made during the off-season with optimism and rose-colored glasses. Today is the day when my well trodden-on heart overflows with the notion that my Giants can go 162 and O during the regular season, and then 11-0 in the post-season.
Of course, once the emotion and the THC wears off, I get realistic. But for now, I love everyone on the 40 man roster, and the main one who isn't "officially", Barry Bonds. I had a rough fall and winter, and nothing says "renewal of Spring, and with it hope" like the official beginning of the baseball year.