This just in from The Onion:
Area Mom Hasn’t Ordered Favorite Pizza Topping In Over A Decade
WEXFORD, PA—Saying that “it’s fine, really,” local mother Catherine Reynolds told reporters Wednesday that she has not been able to order her favorite pizza topping, spinach, in nearly 12 years. “Tyler, what kind of pizza do you want? Spinach?” said Reynolds to her two young children, who have denied or outright ignored their mother’s requests for white pizza and spinach since 2002. “Maybe we get half spinach, half cheese? Okay, that’s fine. Half cheese, half pepperoni. I’ll call now.”
Tom Espo, of Troy Hills, posted this on our local “Neighborhood Watch:”
There’s been some aggressive turkeys around Highland Avenue don’t fear them make a lot of noise and chase them don’t run away from them because you only end up falling which I saw somebody for today she was trying to run from them understand being afraid but you have to make them afraid of you turn around and chase them carry a stick if you want.
Thanks Tommy! I think I have a good stick around here somewhere.
There they are! Sh*t! — Linda! Get the stick!!
“Satchel in Cooperstown” was the clue at 34A today. It reaches pretty far back so you might be forgiven for wondering what sort of luggage would the Hall of Fame be featuring? But, of course, the answer was PAIGE. Satchel Paige one of the greatest pitchers of all time, first in the Negro Leagues, and then, finally, the majors (thanks, Jackie!).
In 2013, I had some nice things happen to me at “work.” I was named one of the top 300 professors in the U.S. by The Princeton Review, and received a Presidential award for teaching excellence (from Hunter’s President, not the White House). The latter came with a monetary award and I celebrated by blowing $200 of it on a gorgeous autograph of Satchel Paige for my collection.
The guest blogger for Rex today, Clare, shared this quote by Willie Mays about Paige:
Oh, yeah. We were in Memphis, Tennessee. It was like a playoff game. It might have been ’48. Satchel had a very, very good fastball. But he threw me a little breaking ball, just to see what I could do, and I hit it off the top of the fence. And I got a double. When I got to second, Satchel told the third baseman, “Let me know when that little boy comes back up.” Three innings later, I go to kneel down in the on-deck circle, and I hear the third baseman say, “There he is.” Satch looked at the third baseman, and then he looked at me. I walk halfway to home plate and he says, “Little boy.” I say, “Yes, sir?” because Satch was much older than I am, so I was trying to show respect. He walked halfway to home plate and said, “Little boy, I’m not going to trick you. I’m going to throw you three fastballs and you’re going to go sit down.” And I’m saying in my mind, “I don’t think so.” If he threw me three of the same pitch, I’m going to hit it somewhere. He threw me two fastballs and I just swung…I swung right through it. And the third ball he threw, and I tell people this all the time, he threw the ball and then he started walking. And he says, “Go sit down.” This is while the ball was in the air. He was just a magnificent pitcher.
Here are his rules for a long and happy life:
1. Avoid fried meats, which angry up the blood. 2. If your stomach disputes you, lie down and pacify it with cool thoughts. 3. Keep the juices flowing by jangling around gently as you move. 4. Go very light on vices such as carrying on in society. The social ramble ain’t restful. 5. Avoid running at all times. 6. Don’t look back, something may be gaining on you.
At 44A the clue was “You’re getting warmer!” for CLOSE. And commenter Son Volt used it to share this Aimee Mann song.
There was a farmhouse that had long since been deserted
We stopped and carved our hearts into the wooden surface
We thought just for an instant we could see the future
We thought for once we knew what really was important
We sold our old Honda Odyssey, so I returned the license plates to NJ. [I once saw a bumper sticker on an Odyssey that said “My other car is an Iliad.”] I also had to submit a form explaining why I wasn’t turning in my registration. I did so, and checked off the box marked “Lost.” Next to that box it said “Explain.” So I wrote: I cannot locate it.
I swear I didn’t make that up.
Headline in The Onion:
Desperate Trump Attempts To Flush 14-Year-Old Masseuse Down Toilet
Commenter egs shared this charming personal Willie Mays story with us.
I was invited to sit in the owners box, which is actually a large indoor suite with windows facing the field, once while Bob Lurie owned the Giants. Willie Mays, who was certainly the best player ever, was a goodwill ambassador for the team and roamed around the box making small talk and signing autographs. He wasn’t good at small talk, BTW, but just meeting him was such a thrill. When he got to me, I said, “Mr. Mays, the first major league game I ever saw was the first year the Giants moved into Candelstick and you hit two inside-the-park home runs. I was 6 years old.” He said “You’re mistaken. No one’s ever done that.” I insisted, but he didn’t agree, and he just kept moving around. A couple of innings later I felt a tap on the shoulder and it was a beaming Willie. “Hey, guess what? I had someone look it up. I did do that!”
At 42A the clue was “Competition that offers a lot of bucks?” Answer: RODEO. Here’s a tune by Blue Rodeo, a Canadian band. They’re going to send us off tonight. See you tomorrow!
The Wellington Files 