A Birthday Party Bitch and Moan. . .

I. blows out the candle. Four kids, fourth birthday.

Yesterday, we celebrated I.'s fourth birthday with a little backyard party. (His actual birthday was the 14th, but we held off a week or so with a party for his friends so we could invite them over on a Saturday afternoon.)

M. did a great job, as usual, planning the event: she created some cool invitations, worked tirelessly getting the house all spiffed up, ran here and there getting a cake made, crepe paper hung, and selected just the right party favors for I.'s baseball-themed party. A dozen invitations went out: RSVP, they all said, and included a phone number. That seems pretty easy to figure out.

But I guess RSVP is an abbreviation lost on the young parents of today (so, look it up in your Wikipedia: ""Répondez s'il vous plaît", a French phrase that translates to "reply, please." or literally "reply, if it pleases you". It is with this meaning that invitation cards and similar documents are often marked with "R.S.V.P." It is standard practice to reply to an RSVP request whether confirming attendance or declining. " )

M.--and myself--were brought up with enough manners to be considerate enough that if someone thinks enough of you to invite you to a party, you let the person know if you'll be there or not. I guess that isn't the way things are done anymore--M. recieved no response at all from the invites. . .and that makes it a bit difficult to figure out how many kids to plan for. It wasn't the first time: the same thing happened back in January for E.'s birthday party at a rental bounce-house place. The invitations went out. . .and then, mostly. . .nothing. Oh, three parents did bother to call and say they'd bring their kid. . but two of those didn't bother showing up, nor call later to apologize. It really chafed my ass to spend hard-earned money on renting a place for the kids to have a good time, and then their parents don't even bother letting us know if they'll be there or not.

Saturday, anyway, I. had a great time, despite having only two friends come by. P., our neighbor infant from across the street, tottled over with her parents; and one of I.'s "girlfriends" from school came by as well (her mother lost the invitation, but made the effort to look up on line where we live). We all ate pizza and cake. I. and his brother E. and the two little guests splashed in a kiddie pool, zipped along a slip-and-slide, and played a little baseball. I doubt they missed the kids that didn't make it. To them, it wasn't a slight on anyone's part.

But M. and I wonder if these parties are even worth it. Especially when parents don't show much consideration in how to respond to an invitation. Call it sour grapes, or call it bitching and moanin'. But, please, call us--one way or another.



Getting a jump on puberty. . .

See, our son is IS half-Hispanic!

M. picked up some cheap costume moustaches from the party store the other day. While E. would have nothing to do with trying one on (he's SO serious lately!), I. was, of course, eager to jump in. I think he's more Ramon Vasquez than Jason Giambi. . .

You May Be a Cubs Fan If. . .

. .you decide to have your ashes interred in a Cubs-theme cemetery. Yep, your ashes will rest in eternal repose inside a replica of the ivy-covered walls of Wrigley Field, complete with a bronze "baseball card" describing your life. Oh, and speakers broadcasting Cubs games so the mourners can get into the mood.

I shit you not.


Too Good to Pass up. . .
is Fappingfun's flickr site. Beware: there's quite a few photographs not safe for youngsters or the office. Or your wife, if she catches you looking at them. But, beyond the photos of young women with large breasts, there's some funny-ass shit in here. Mind if I rip the guy off and post a couple of em? Thought you wouldn't mind.



Self-explanatory.



I'm a fan of obscene Family Circus spoofs. There's a whole bunch of them here.



Again, no explanation needed.




Guys will relate to this one.



"Our BBQ will make U go OMGWTF!"

Flicker is an amazing place to waste time. Incredible what people post. Truly. Amazing. And they aren't shy, either. But enough about that.

Ya hadda be there (and we were, sort of. . . )

It's Roy Hobbs! (AP photo)

What an amazing finish to last night's Rangers-Anaheim Angels game in Arlington! All morning on ESPN the lead highlight clip has been Josh Hamilton's walk-off two-run home run to lead Texas to a 5-4 victory.

I hope folks are finally starting to believe in this ball club. I know I do. It took me several years past the debacle that was the A-Rod deal to get me to even want to watch a sports team owned by Tom Hicks. But things are starting to fall into place for the Rangers. . .they've got a little momentum now (playing 4-games above .500 for the first time in two years) going into the All-Star break. And while the pitching still isn't anywhere near where it should be--in fact, it's a horror show--the youth and resiliency and sense of team embodied in this year's Rangers squad should bring big dividends in the future. Maybe not this year, but certainly in 2009 and later. The club is loaded with young hitting and fielding talent, and there's a whole line of 'em coming up in the Rangers' minor league system, too. Hats off to Jon Daniels. And hats off to Nolan Ryan, too, for his leadership in the front office. Not much to hear from Mr. Hicks, which is fine with me.


The Temple at dusk. A magical place. And $1.00 hot dogs to boot.


Chris and son Jake along with the always-in-motion I. and E. Jake's got a borrowed Cubs cap on. By the end of the night, he was sporting a Rangers cap. Another convert!

Our family joined my co-worker Chris Palmieri and his son, Jake, at the game last night. I gave the Rangers no chance of winning last night going into it. It's not too promising when the team doesn't have a starter to put on the mound. Instead, they team opted to use relievers--Madrigal and Rupe to start things off--and to me it had a bruising written all over it.

But Madrigal and Rupe stepped up, pitching a combined six innings and allowing two runs, allowing the Rangers to tie the game at 2-2 by the 6th inning by forcing the Angels' Jared Weaver to walk runners, and having the luck of two fielding errors which set up the Rangers' first two runs.

Rangers reliever Frank Francisco allowed the Angels two more runs in the 6th, and there it stood, 4-2, until the 9th inning, when the Angels' dangerous closer, Francisco "K-Rod" Rodriguez, came on to close the Rangers out.

It wasn't to be.

Rodriguez walked Vasquez, struck out Kinsler, and Catalanatto grounded out, moving Vasquez to second. With 2 outs, Michael Young sent Vasquez home on a double, bringing Hamilton up to bat with the score 4-3 with two outs. After running the count to 3-1, Rodriguez elected to pitch to Hamilton rather than walk him, and Hamilton drove the pitch deep to right field.

Pandemonium ensued. The crowd went wild, etc. and the Rangers swarmed onto the field to welcome Hamilton on his first-ever walk-off home run. It was electric. I'm sure Josh Lewin's call will be remembered for a long time.


A family photo op. You can see I. is already fidgeting to get to the team store. . .

At least it appeared that way on television. Where were we? Hey, we've got two young boys, and they absolutely needed to visit the team store rather than watch the conclusion to this exciting game. So, off we went to the gift shop (Hey, Rangers were down 4-2 in the 7th inning? What are the chances they'd rally?) While M. and the boys shopped, I watched the game conclude on a television monitor above a display of Ranger's Caps.

"What happened? Is it over?" one shopper asked. "Awww, and we were shopping!" That about sums up the experience. What the hell. We'll catch it on SportsCenter later.

Still, an electrifying win, and the Rangers are now up 2-1 in the series against the Angels. And Hamilton is being hailed as "The Natural" on baseball blogs across the country. "How f-ing awesome can that be?" one writer asked, " to hit a home run in a stadium of cheering fans, fireworks exploding overhead, and the music from 'The Natural' playing? " How f-ing awesome, indeed!

This season is getting more interesting by the moment.


My view of the Hamilton game-winner. I won't let this happen again.

Where Have You Gone, Transistor Radio (a nation turns its lonely eyes to you. . .)

Before headed to the game, and running errands, I thought I'd just stop in a store and buy a small transistor radio to take to the game. Remember those? Back in the days, when World War II vets chomped cigars while watching games in the stands and baseball fields had names like Comiskey and Crosley--not Comerica or Pac-Bell--a transistor radio was an indispensable accessory in adding to enjoyment to a game.

How tough could it be to find one? Pretty tough, I guess. I made four stops and wasn't able to find such a contraption in short-order. Office Depot? I knew that would be pushing my luck, but since they sell Gummy Bears by the tub-full, I thought I'd take a chance. Wal-Mart? Target? No, no, and no. Radio Shack had a fancy model for $39.99 (!!!), and would be "happy to order" a cheap $14 model. No thanks. I can buy it on line cheaper and easier. I just found it strange that one can find all manner of readily-available mp3 players small enough that you could insert one in many body orifices, but the lowly transistor radio--what a personal electronic device was back in the days before "ear buds"--are nowhere to be seen.

Radio Shack. You have questions, we have blank stares.

Well, this sucks, too. . .

Bye bye, J.J.'s Hideaway. . .
http://www.pegasusnews.com/news/2008/jun/26/fort-worths-j-js-hideaway-be-demolished/

What a great place this used to be to drink in. I probably won't be able to afford a whiskey sour in whatever takes its place. . . .

Goodnight, George

'
We've lost a great one. . .


Sad news for me this morning: comedian George Carlin has died at age 71.

George and I went way back. On the cusp of my teenage years, which coincided with the convergence of the final years of "Golden Age" vaudevillians (Marx Brothers, Jack Benny, Henny Youngman, etc.) and the emergence of a new hip set of comedians (David Steinberg, Freddie Prinze, Robert Klein, among them), Carlin's "AM&FM" LP was one of the first record albums I purchased. This was back in 1972, when Carlin was making the transition from a straight-laced performer to a hippy persona that really made his career.



One of the first LP's I ever bought. .

"AM&FM" was Carlin's farewell to a more traditional stand-up presentation. His next album, "Class Clown," was notorious for the "Seven Words you Can't Say on Television" . It was pretty ground-breaking for the era. The routine brought "blue" language--previously the domain of guys like Lenny Bruce and Redd Foxx--into the mainstream. Remember, this was 1972: a brief era when the old-guard was hanging it up and only a few years before "Saturday Night Live" took to the airwaves. Cable television's expanse of channels was still in the future, and the best gig a comedian could get on TV was to land a spot on the Carson show. Concidentally, Carlin was the guest host on the premiere of SNL, which at the time was merely called "Saturday Night."

Carlin in 1972 was a long-haired hippy freak, no doubt about it, cracking jokes about sex and dope and I was oblivious to most of it. His delivery, though, was still traditional in the sense that is featured bits reliant on impressions and voice characterizations. As Carlin matured, so did his approach to comedy, evolving into the social commentary and observation popular by the generation of comedians after him, like Jerry Seinfeld, Lewis Black, and in a freaky way, Steven Wright.

There were those--my wife among them--who felt that Carlin's prodigious use of profanity in his performance diminished the impact of the rest of his words. I didn't agree--if anything, his liberal use of fucks, motherfuckers, and cocksuckers actually helped take an edge off words that were, after all, just words. Strangely enough, he also was the narrator on "Thomas The Tank Engine" from 1991-1994. He was a helluva lot better than Ringo Starr as "Mr. Conductor."

George Carlin was way out in front of exposing the fear-mongering that goes on in this country by politicians and the media, and in ridiculing how life in the United States has essentially become an existance defined by consumerism, religious fraud, marketing, and lies. His specials for HBO were something to be looked forward to. While M. would work on her computer in the next room, I'd be in front of the television laughing my ass off.

Carlin's last HBO special was "It's Bad For Ya," taped in March of this year. His performance seemed flat, the spark gone, and just didn't have the angry edge of outrage his earlier specials did. Carlin just looked old.

He'd hate me for saying this, given his dislike of religion, but God bless you, George. Rest easy, you old motherfucker.


Speaking of Fear-Mongering. . . someone at work posted a call to all good Americans to boycott gasoline sold by oil companies that purchase crude from Saudi Arabia. Instead, we should spend our hard-earned bucks fattening only the pockets of companies that use non-Saudi oil. . .companies, the posting said, like Wal-Mart, which gets its oil from Arkansas (well, that's what it seemed like it was saying!). Oh, and we should boycott Venezuela, as well. Just because.

The super-patriot who posted this plea reasoned that since Saudi Arabia was "boycotting" products made in the US of A, we should boycott their oil. Yep, they're boycotting. . .what exactly do we make in this country anymore? Oh, weapons systems? Last time I looked, the Saudis were still keeping our good ol'American defense contractors in business.

I'm sure the good consumers of China and India, among the rest of the world, will be happy to purchase whatever we don't buy.

Just goes to prove that people are largely stupid in this country.

The boulder keeps rolling back down. . .

You remember Sisyphus, don't you? In Greek mythology, he was the chap punished by the gods to roll a huge boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, roll it back up, watch it roll back down. . .over and over again. . .into eternity.

Kinda like our beloved Texas Rangers. A month ago, the Rangers were on the tail end of a hot streak, salvaging a horrendous start to a baseball season that found them a .333 (9-18) before going 13-4 through May 17 to return to .500 baseball for the first time since April 11. Since then, they've been rolling the boulder up the mountain. . .and watching it roll back again. . .over and over and over again. How many times has the boulder gone up the mountain? The Rangers have been at .500 thirteen times since then, going only one game above the even mark two times--May 31 and June 11--before the boulder rolls right back down.

What's holding them back? Why can't they break through this barrier of .500 baseball and make a sustained effort into the win column?

I'll give you a hint: it ain't the hitting.

Offensively, the Texas Rangers are the best team in the American League--and in many cases, all of professional baseball-- in several categories. Bring out the gimp with the stats, please:

• The Rangers lead the AL in team batting average at .280 and are second among all MLB teams, only to the Cubs. . .
• lead all major league baseball in number of at-bats. . .
• lead both league in number of runs scored, 424 (the Cubs, at 411, lead the NL) . . .
• lead both leagues in number of hits, 757 (ahead of the Cubs, best in the NL, at 745; and Red Sox, second in the AL with 734). . .
• lead all baseball in number of doubles, and are second in the AL number of home runs. . .
• lead both leagues in number of RBI's with 406 (second are the NL cubs, with 389; the Red Sox are second in the AL, ten percentage point behind with 366!). . .
• have hit into double plays the second-fewest times in the AL (behind only Baltimore). . .
• are second in AL On Base Percentage behind only the Red Sox (.350 vs. .355). . .
• lead the MLB in slugging percentage (.456; the NL-leading Marlins and AL Red Sox are tied for second at .450). . .
• and lead the majors in the all-important OPS percentage, at .807 (a shade above the Red Sox and Cubs, tied at .805 ).

Given the above, you'd think the Rangers would be leading their league, up there in the ol' Cat Bird Seat breathing the rarified air with the Red Sox and Cubbies. Hell, we should be talkin' pennant race!

Hold onto your pin-striped seat.

Lets look at the, um, pitching:

• The Rangers have the highest Earned Run Average in the AL, 4.97 (the Pirates stink up the NL at 5.02). . .
• they've given up the second-highest number of hits in the majors, 761 (behind only the Twins with 768). . .
• allowed the most runs in both leagues, 435 (far out-distancing the NL leaders, Pirates, with 406). . .
• allowed the most Earned Runs in the AL, with 378 (ahead of only one NL team, those putrid Pirates). . .
• walked more batters than any other team in MLB (315). . .
• are 27th of 30 MLB teams in number of strikeouts pitched. . .
• are tied for first in the MLB with those Pirates for most hits and walks allowed per inning, with 1.57 (worse even than the Mariners' 1.50 ratio). . .
• and are second in the AL behind the Twins for highest batting average allowed with .282.

I'm sure there are more telling statistics, but you get the picture. The pitching is holding these guys down. I'm sure hoping against hope that Sidney Ponson, off to a great start with the Rangers before being released for fighting among his teammates, is an utter failure with his new club, the New York Yankees. If Ponson shines and the Rangers continue to stay barely even due to the pitching, I'll guarantee you that all the good chemistry in the clubhouse won't make this a winning team. Not with Wright. Not with Benoit. And not with a shaky C. J. Wilson.