It’s in the books; there you have it, the year of the World Cup and the Wahoo’s. I kind of like Mexico’s Andres Cantor’s Goooooooooooaaaaaaaalll!!! But you hardly get to hear it because of how slow the scoring is in soccer. In honor of the Wahoo’s and Spain’s victory this year I will blow my Vuvuzela horn throughout the entire 4 hours of the draft next year.
While some of you endured a thrilling, nerve racking ride to the finish, the rest of us just endured………... like a 300 mile Bataan death march. I’ve been on way too many of those hikes through the years. BT took one for the team this year by letting up on the gas the final 2 weeks of the season so as not to create a Kanye West, Taylor Swift moment that surely would have occurred if he would have passed Ted on the last day. Let’s hope he takes the high road in his acceptance speech like my idol Jack Benny when he won his Emmy and proclaimed:
“Thank you very much for this wonderful honor, I really don’t deserve it, but I also have arthritis and I don’t deserve it either. So I’ll take it.”
Thank you very much for abandoning your team name Johnny, I’m sure 100 years from now the ownership of the team name will blur to the point that no one will remember that you owned them at one point in time. To answer some of your questions, no Jon I don’t have any honor and it isn’t a trademark infringement. Jesse Krause, another one of Scott’s highly successful sons is a big shot lawyer in Omaha who also happens to be a patent attorney as well. Jesse said that a trade mark is like the warranty on your weed whacker; you have to actually fill out the paper work and send it in for it to be valid. I’m guessing like Johnny’s weed whacker warranty papers, the papers to trade mark the Skipjacks are still sitting on his kitchen table.
I never would have thought that a possum could run that fast or that far. He’s out sprinted, outpaced and out lasted an Indian chief, a bear and his cub, a Highlander, a Redbird, Itchie’s Bitches ( I think I would actually pay money to see a possum race a prostitute. Hell, I’d pay money to watch our possum race a prostitute. I’m guessing they are prostitutes, I know how hard it is to snag a nice girl off the street without any hair. It’s damn near impossible) and a few other pretenders and a Monarch. Now, is that a “sole absolute ruler of a state or nation” or a butterfly? I guess it doesn’t matter, they’re both slow.
While we’re on the subject of names and homonyms, I noticed on the Yahoo site that Dave has selected for his avatar a person resembling a ship’s captain, all these years I was always thinking of a different “skipper”. It strikes me funny that there should even be a word “homonym”, we have enough letters to jumbo them up anyway we like, I don’t see the point in doubling up on words. My wife thinks it’s ironic that I do the crossword puzzles everyday when I can’t spell. They’re actually pretty easy, when I come across a word I don’t know or can’t spell I just pretend it’s a French word and put in anything I want and I still get that warm feeling of accomplishment.
Those darn homonyms.
Only 12 more rungs up the ladder to get to the 72 VIRGINS, or whatever it is the winner gets.
Mitch, you made my day with your Curbside Chronicles, you were quite the stud in high school. I had to call up a couple of old friends to verify that that was really you in the picture. While I was able to confirm that it was you, it wasn’t unanimous (sorry, Misty didn’t remember you) but John did. “Yep, that’s ole Mitch alright, is he still driving guys around Grand Island looking for their pants?”
“Naw, he’s doing it in Omaha now.”
Where does the time go? I went to lunch with Scott and another friend of ours, Rod, to this soup and salad place over by Art F/X, Scott paid for his lunch and then the old guy behind the counters says “senior?” I looked around and came to the awful conclusion he was talking to me. Two things made that disturbing; 1) our friend Rod was 65 and 2) it happened a couple of years ago. So we’ve aged a bit, big deal. So if anyone wants to go out for dinner sometime give me a call. I’ll pick you up around 4:00, if we eat before 5:00 we get a free slice of pie at the Village Inn.
Denny, what are your thoughts about homophones?
Not that homo-phone, I mean words that sound the same but have a different meaning.
This is the first time in the history of our league that luck did not play one single part in the outcome of the championship……..not one single part………not one single part…………not one single part………………not one single part.
I can’t even type that with a straight face, Carl Pavano thinks it’s funny, John Garland won’t even look at me, Kelly Johnson is looking down at his shoes, not even Matt Latos’s dad expected that season. It does take luck, but more important than that, is an astute manager and the Wahoo’s definitely had that this year. It was a dominating year for the Whoo’s from start to finish.
I think what I like best about our league is how competitive we all are, I’m fighting for 10th place, 10th friggin place! And I feel like my fight is center stage in the Coliseum before Commodus and one hundred thousand Romans, only it’s just between Jon, Mouse and me and no one is watching. Who in their right mind gets up at 3:30am Saturday morning to check the probable pitchers to see if you can snag one last guy for the last day? I’ll tell you who, Scott. I saw that Colby Lewis might start on Sunday and he could be picked up via the free agent wire and I was actually thinking about calling him at that early hour when I noticed he already had it covered… at 2:54am. Yeah, that’s competitive. The poor guy has to feel like he stepped in gum, he hasn’t been able to get Chuck off his shoe for the last 2 years. Finally some relief.
Just down the street from the Coliseum three other gladiators, Denny, Jim and Big Guy are separated by only 30 points as I write this, are putting on their own show. “Are you not entertained?” “Are you not entertained”? Competitive? Yup.
I just got back from grocery shopping with my wife, a trip I normally dread. When I shop solo, I shop like the next to last air bender, up, over, around and through. There seems to be a submissive decorum that is expected when I shop with her, so I typically wedge myself somewhere in the store where I’ll be out of the way, like the matzo ball soup area. But invariably at least one cart and most of the time two will pull up thinking I’m on to something, forcing me back into the traffic pattern, littered with singularly focused women and their weapon of choice….the cart.
How can one woman strategically place a cart in the aisle so that 20 other shoppers have to double back and take another route….. and not know it? Fascinating, they can stare at an item for 20 minutes, completely paralyzed by the comparison between weights, calories and price, oblivious to their surroundings. I want so bad to just lean over and pull the trigger for them, but I’m hampered by shopping etiquette, so I just plod behind the cart embarrassing my wife by asking her how we’re doing on leopard skin snuggie’s, Preparation H and head lice medicine. My companionship is not as much in demand as it used to be, but she has assured me that she gets the best deals available…… when I’m not with her.
Which got me to thinking? Linda, how are you at shopping? How would you like to draft my team for me next year? Serious, I think you would be great at it and I evidently don’t have the patience for it. I promise no kibitzing, no second guessing, you would have total carte blanc. You can take your time, take all the time you need, it’s all right to take your time. We already have few who practice the sweet science of deliberation and have their own issues when it comes to pulling the trigger and they’ve done quite well.
So if you find yourself hypnotized in the diaper aisle for an hour or two and happen to bump shoulders with this guy, go ahead and peek into his cart. That boy knows his baseball.
The people in this picture are paid actors portraying shoppers, except the guy in the middle,
he was there when we got there…….and he was still there when we left.
CONGRATULATIONS WAHOO’S THE 2010 HSL CHAMPIONS