I usually shave every other day. Once in a while, I’ll let it go to the third day. But today when I shaved, it was the fourth day. And I could sense that my face was beginning to think I might be growing a beard. I imagined my cheeks saying, “Hey fellas, is he growing a beard? Doesn’t he usually shave by now?” And my chin said, “Hard to say, but if so, it’s not a goatee, because he would have shaved the rest of his face and just not me.” So they decide to ask my mustache about it, thinking he might have special insight because it actually happened to him. I just stopped shaving there one day, forever. But when they asked my mustache if he thought I might be growing a beard, he just said, “How the f*ck should I know? Will you two idiots just shut up?” And they were like, “Okay, okay — sheesh.”
But I shaved today, so it’s not an issue anymore.
Today’s puzzle had a cute theme, sort of combining Taylor Swift with monsters. It was break-up lines appropriate for monsters. So, e.g., a vampire would say: “YOU’RE NOT MY TYPE.” Get it?
A werewolf would say: TIME FOR A CHANGE. A mummy would say: LET’S WRAP THIS UP. And Frankenstein’s monster would say: THE SPARK IS GONE.
Remember these monster stamps? One can only qualify for stamphood when one is dead for five years. Thus, an RBG stamp was just issued, below. So my question is, How can a vampire be on a stamp — ever?
My favorite non-theme answer was for “trinkets:” TCHOTCHKES. Tough to spell, but it worked.
The poem in today’s Writer’s Almanac is by Billy Collins and is called “Sixteen Years Old, I Help Bring in the Hay on My Uncle John’s Farm with Two French-Canadian Workers.”
None of us expected the massing thunderheads
to swing open their doors so suddenly
that we would have to drop our rakes
and run across the field to a shelter
and stand there side by side under its tin roof
looking out through a shiny curtain of rain.
We had never spent any time together
except for the haying, raking it into piles
and pitchforking it up into an old truck,
but now there was nothing to do
but watch and listen to the downpour
and nothing to say either
after the cigarettes had been offered around
and lit one by one with the flame of a single match.
The Rangers delivered a delicious thumping to the Astros last night, driving a spike through their hateful hearts with an 11-4 drubbing. I loved the series MVP Adolis Garcia. Hadn’t seen him much before — wow!
There was an interesting play at first base. Texas was batting, and the batter hit a grounder up the first base line. The first baseman fielded it and stepped on first and the first base umpire called it fair and the batter out. But until the ball passes first base, it’s the home plate umpire’s call to make. And he called it foul and overruled the fair/out call. So the batter was alive and got a hit. The replay showed it was clearly fair and the batter should have been out. Oddly, the ball stayed in foul territory its whole way up the line but skipped fair just as it reached the base (so it’s fair). But it is not a call that can be challenged. Astros manager Dusty Baker didn’t even come out to argue.
Now the Rangers can relax with their feet up and watch the Phillies/’Zona game to see whom they’ll face next. Dusty’s 74 and he says he’s retiring. Everybody loves him — he’ll be missed. Here he is with his famous toothpick back when he was managing the Nats. Take care of yourself, Dusty.
Good night everybody. Thanks for dropping in. See you tomorrow.
The Wellington Files 