Enough of this

Well... out with it.

This blog has been very rewarding.  It would have to be to keep at it for almost six years.  This is post number 1650, of which I've done maybe a level thousand, and there's a number of those that I can be proud of.  I think that over the next few weeks I will be searching through and finding the best of those to save... but sadly, I think that's all I've got right now.

Those few of you who dig my hockey stuff can find it at Lighthouse Hockey, an Islanders message board/group blog/clearinghouse of all things puck.  I post there as "mikb" since my blog name was taken when I signed up.

The rest?

I'm sorry.  I'm fried.  I look at this thing, and I fiddle-faddle with the template, and I save links to write posts about, or jot down thoughts, and it never goes anywhere.  It doesn't seem worth the bother anymore.  I have no jump left.

It's a pity.  According to a recent spate of spam comments, my blog is (at turns) captivating, wondrous, remarkable, powerful, striking, irresistable (my blog meter begs to differ), super, great, fine, excellent, exciting, inquisitive, unusual, awesome, charming (??), incredible, energizing (!!), prodigious, astonishing, unique (like the million other blogs the spambots sent the comment too), cool, fascinating, suitable (even the spammers damn with faint praise!), hot, and hype.  The main thing this blog is, though, is "fruitful" - with five faux commenters using that term, beating out "hot" and "fine" who had four each.

It was amusing to watch a thesaurus explode all over my comments section, but not worth the trouble to erase fifty-plus links to fake refinancing companies.  (Although with times the way they are, maybe that's the only way they can afford to advertise now.)

Y'all will see me here and there.  I like visiting everyone and commenting and such.  Probably sooner or later I'll be back writing my own stuff, too.  I hope noboby will mind if I send around an email when that happens.  And you have my email: nightflymail -AT- gmail -DOT- com.  Don't be a stranger.

Where's Harriet Nelson when you need her?

When I saw this.

The Department of Justice is seeking to hire linguists fluent in Ebonics to help monitor, translate, and transcribe the secretly recorded conversations of subjects of narcotics investigations, according to federal records.

I thought of this.

The Rays maybe took me too seriously

I was only kidding when I wrote this, but now I think maybe I should get royalties from Tampa.  Last week they were held to one hit (or less) for the fifth time this season.  It's a record for the most times that's happened to any team since 1920.

You have read this correctly - not the 2003 Tigers, not the 1988 Orioles (losers of 21 straight to start the year), not the 1962 Mets... the 2010 Rays stand alone in the liveball era.

How's your changeup looking these days, Spider?

Remember what Mom said...

...about talking to strangers.


Owners of a mall in Roseville don’t like strangers speaking to each other, unless it is about commercial enterprises in the mall, and penned rules prohibiting strangers from conversing.

The rules forbid peaceful, consensual, spontaneous conversations between strangers about any topic not commercially related to the Westfield Galleria mall. According to the rules, an application for third party access must be filled out and approved prior to engaging in a conversation.

After a 27-year-old pastor filed a lawsuit against the mall seeking monetary damages for false imprisonment, assault, battery, intentional infliction of emotional distress, negligence, malicious prosecution, and a general violation of his civil rights after he was arrested for speaking to strangers, the Third District Court of Appeals ruled the mall’s policies are unconstitutional.

Matthew Snatchko refused to stop talking with three strangers who had agreed to talk to him about subjects that included his faith.

A security officer ordered Snatchko to stop talking to the strangers or to take the conversation outside. The security officer made a citizen’s arrest, handcuffed the youth pastor and turned him over to Roseville police.

Mr Snatchko was not harassing anyone, the strangers agreed to talk to him. Even a California court couldn't back this rule.

The Pervs of Polk County

Polk County is 20 miles east of Tampa, and they have these stings all the time.

More than a dozen men from across central Florida walked into a trap set by the Polk County Sheriff's Office.

The men are now charged with attempting to have sex with girls aged 14 and younger, some as young as 8 years old.

Investigators say a Davenport home was the rendezvous point arranged online to catch the 15 men.

You would think that prospective pervs would know enough to stay out of Polk County, but being an addict myself I can understand the power of the Jones. It looks like at least one of the accused had his wits about him:

One of the arrestees, Ray Damon of Dunedin, told reporters that investigators misread his intentions.

"I never said I was going to do anything with or to the daughter. I told the woman what she wanted to hear so she would invite me here because I wanted to hook up with her mom. But I didn't say was going to do anything to the daughter in specifics, or with her or anything..."

And a little surprise:

The Sheriff said one of his detectives got quite a surprise during the operation when he knocked on a door to find a man who reportedly coaches a Little League team that the detective's son plays on.

I have come to the conclusion that I would be the world's worst parent. No computer in your bedroom - it's in a common area. And I know all your passwords. And if I am in a generous mood you will get a cellphone that cannot take or receive pics or video. And if you behave I may even feed you and let you sleep in a bed.

NY Times sportswriters have too much time on their hands

Racial bias down the baselines.

The bean-counters have struck again-- this time in the sports pages. Two New York Times sport writers have discovered that baseball coaches from minority groups are found more often coaching at first base than at third base. Moreover, third-base coaches become managers more often than first-base coaches.

Thank God for the NY Times! I have been watching baseball for over 40 years and I never noticed this. One would assume since I am a tea-bagging racist bent out of shape because the president's black I would be aware that whitey rules the third base coaches box.

Then again MLB's bean counters are just as bad. Carl Crawford of the Rays (and the left fielder for the 2011 Yankees) is considered black. David Ortiz of the Bosox isn't. I know kids, he looks black, but in racial accounting his name goes into the Hispanic column.

Which brings us to an amusing story from Eric Gregg's autobiography Working the Plate about his days working winter ball in the Dominican back in the early 1970's. Rico Carty comes out to argue a call and calls Gregg the N-word. Gregg laughs and says, "You're blacker than I am!" Carty replies, "Yeah, but I'm Spanish".

Back to these NY Times sportswriters. If you are watching baseball and you notice the skin color of the base coaches, you don't live on the same planet with the rest of us. And you wonder why your industry is dying.

A couple of things

Hey all.

I'm pleased to welcome three newcomers to Ye Olde Sidebarre: Professor Mondo, the Clue Batting Cage, and Lighthouse Hockey.

The third of these sites may be interesting to future students in Professor Ag²-zuRç-Œz♣ƒo≡♫'s elective on Obscure Blogging in the Terran Early-21st Century, since it's the first time I've been hired by someone else to write stuff.  Pay = zero, but when I die, on my deathbed, I will receive total consciousness.  In the meantime, you all receive blessed freedom from my occasional hockey posts, since they will usually take place over there now.  (You still get to enjoy my split infinitives.)  I'll link those posts here, but the casual visitor will be spared the in-depth demonstration of my niche amusements.

My thanks to Professor M and philmon for their good writing, and for Dominik the Lighthouse Keeper for the opportunity to do more of what I love.  It's a great community of fans over there, the comment threads are friendly and smart, a lot of fun, and it's great to have the chance to be a part of it.  My normal nom de blog was already taken, so you'll find me posting there as "mikb" - you know, because I'm creative like that.

I can watch football in Sunday night again.

Kief lost his weekend gig.

This is not letting me cut-and-paste. NBC had no comment whether or not Olberman being a race-baiting SOB was a reason for letting him go. I don't care about the reason, but now I can watch Football Night in America and keep my dinner down.

My dog only eats the socks

This dog made like Avis, and tried harder.

According to a bizarre story reported in The Grand Rapids Press, Kiko smelled an infection in his owner's right big toe and set about "amputating" it. Which in doggie terms, of course, means he ate it.

Kind of puts things in perspective, hm?  But how does a man have a toe gnawed off without noticing it?

... Kiko's owner, Jerry Douthett of Rockford, Mich., lay passed-out drunk in his bed.

That will do it.

Douthett actually had type 2 diabetes and was suffering from a dangerous infection in his big toe. ... Douthett's wife, Rosee, a registered nurse, had actually suspected her husband had diabetes and insisted he get checked out. But before he did so, he had a few beers. And then a few margaritas. After that, he went home, passed out, and Kiko got to work.

When you have diabetes, one of the sillier things you can do is ignore it in favor of knocking down some cold ones.  I believe the fancy medical term for this is "contraindication," which is doctor speak for "ARE YOU FREAKING NUTS?!!??!"

If you choose to drink alcohol, only drink it occasionally and when your diabetes and blood sugar level are well-controlled. ... Beer and sweet wine contain carbohydrates and may raise blood sugar. ... Do not drink more than two drinks of alcohol in a one-day period. ... Avoid "sugary" mixed drinks, sweet wines, or cordials.

This guy's lucky his nose wasn't infected.