Scotchy scotch scotch scotch

I have always enjoyed good single-malt scotch, but I don't get to enjoy it very often. This is mainly due to the facts that: a. scotch is expensive and b. I don't have any money. So when I received a gift certificate to the local nice wine/liquor store, I knew immediately that I was going to turn that into a pretty nice bottle of old, smokey, peaty goodness.

So I got a bottle of 12-year Bowmore Islay single malt (on account of the extra-peatyness) and have been slowly - very slowly - enjoying it. Its the nicest bottle of liquor that I've ever owned, and I intend to enjoy it to its fullest, dammit.

So of course, the next step is to hop on the intro-net and research what makes a good scotch, what to taste for, how to taste it correctly, etc. All of which eventually led me to this page: The Scotch Doc.

I love it. This is a perfect example of what most websites used to be in the heady early days of the web (I'm sure he hasn't updated it in over 7 years). There is the standard menu frame on the left, the standard shitty color scheme, the standard rambling on about onesself, and the standard shitty photos. The guy is an absolute riot because he takes himself wayyyyyyyyyy too seriously, and because he is a self-described "twentieth century Renaissance man", and "redneck Riverbottom Okie".

So you can explore yourself because the page will undoubtedly make you laugh more than I ever could, but there is one page that I do actually enjoy - the "Scotch Doc" method of tasting scotch. He goes into explicit detail on the techniques of drinking scotch, and also offers a commentary on not using scotch to get drunk. While I'm not completely with him on that particular salient point, he makes a lot of sense, and says it pretty poetically:

"An understanding of the Scotch Single Malt Whisky has been proven to enhance, not only the gastronomical experience, but also the self-discipline and respect for the qualities of this unique spirit. The greater the understanding the less the abuse of this mysterious and complex alcoholic beverage. Knowledge begets appreciation, which begets respect, which begets a natural temperance. I know of no true connoisseur of the Scotch Single Malt Whisky that uses it to intoxicate himself. Such an action is considered an abuse by the connoisseur and an insult to this noble spirit. There are certainly more economical alcoholic beverages that can accomplish the objective of becoming intoxicated equally as well."

Okay, okay, I'm with you...

"Finally, our politicians, social scientists and well-intended, but sometimes misguided, organized protestor groups have proven to us, over and over, that human integrity and self-discipline cannot be legislated or forced upon anyone. What, then, IS the answer? Perhaps it lies in the realm of education. Could the true and full understanding of related outcomes of irresponsible behavior be a substantial part of the answer? I think so. If not, what are the other options. I can think of none. Having witnessed the moral and physical destruction of beloved relatives due to the abuse of alcohol, I have undertaken the educational approach to this international problem. My motto, "The intelligent appreciation of the Scotch Single Malt Whisky," could apply to the use of all alcoholic beverages. I profess that the Scotch single malt makes a wonderful companion but a vicious master. I still believe in the validity of the ancient Roman term, "abusus non tollit usum," which translates, "Abuse is no argument against proper use." This is, also, the message of "The Scotch Doc." "

Pretty heady stuff there, but I do love the last quote: "Abuse is no argument against proper use." Man, the Romans kicked ass.

Feeling the Dark Side's Power Flow Through Me

Well, it happened. I asked for - and received - an iPod for Christmas. This may sound like a pretty lame thing for a twenty-something blogger and tech nerd to be exited about writing about, but it is very nearly a watershed event in my life. Maybe not quite that epic, but I think it says something. Ever since our family got our first Packard-Bell 386 computer (complete with 2x CD-ROM drive and oooh 256-color VGA monitor), I have always been an ardent and vocal supporter of the "IBM" or "PC" style computer, as opposed to Apple stuff, like iMacs and iBooks and whatever else.

I'm a nerd, but I never reached the level of spurning Windows to use Unix or Linux or anything like that. But I certainly enjoyed the fact that I had mastered DOS back in the day - it was something I took pride in and knew that I had at least a basic level of understanding of what went on behind the scenes of all the pretty pictures and graphics in Windows. I think that was where my hatred of all things Apple began...it was not so much that I thought that it was a bad product or that it wasn't useful, it was that I believed it encouraged people to not think about what their computer was doing. It simplified things to the point of rediculousness. ONE mouse button! How the hell do you call up the properties menu? Is there a properties menu? What do you mean you don't know how to access your hard drive? It made me mad that people delighted in the simpicity of everything. They didn't have to know text commands to "cls" or "md FAVORI~1" or adjust COM ports to make your Sound Blaster (or equivalent) sound card work or make a boot disk or pound your keyboard in frustration when Doom said there was an IRQ error or any of the fun stuff!

But of course that was the point. People don't want to have to worry about that stuff. People don't want to have to worry about IRQ addresses. They want to hit a button, have a pretty picture pop up with a status bar to tell you that the computer is working on stuff, and then hit one big mouse button to play solitaire or whatever other crappy games they offered for the Mac. And there's nothing wrong with that. That statement is what took me 15 years to come to terms with. People want things to work right because they have enough other shit in their lives to worry about and enough other tasks taking up their time without having to worry about whether or not they'll get a Blue Screen of Death and have to reboot and rewrite that entire Christmas letter they just spent two hours they'll never get back on.

Now that I'm older and I have a real job and significantly less free time, I understand that. When I was a kid, I happily spent entire summers fucking with COM ports and memory allocation to make Duke Nukem 3d run well without having to listen to MIDI music. I have to admit, nowadays I get frustrated as all hell when my MLB 2005 game has a direct 3d error or locks up, because now I'm wasting my valuable free time fixing my computer, instead of enjoying it.

So, to bring things back to my original point, it is an event for me that I am excited about and thoroughly enjoying my Apple iPod. Just like the literally millions of other people out there with the same damn thing. I am now a statistic - there is absolutely nothing that distinguishes my iPod from any of the others out there. But I don't care. It is fucking awesome. Here's why:

1. It looks awesome.
2. It feels awesome - heavy enough to let you know its built decently well, but not obtrusive or bulky.
3. The interface is awesome. You push the buttons just hard enough and they immediately respond with a click and the thing does what you want it to do. Brilliant.
4. It holds ALL of my songs and still has room for more. All 98G of my songs.
5. It has games on it that don't absolutely blow.
6. It synched with my iTunes, charged, and worked perfectly the first time I used it.
7. It sounds pretty good.
8. I can manually drag and drop songs to and from it from Windows Explorer. Makes me feel like I retain a little bit of control over the damn thing.

So, call me boring or call me a bandwagoner or whatever - I've already called myself all of those things. I don't care. It is the bomb. Kudos, Steve Jobs. You did a hell of a lot better than Dell did when it tried to make an MP3 player.

And on and on and on

So here we are, a full six days after my last blog post wherein I stated my jubilation that the red sox were out of the bidding for Mark Teixiera. Turns out, they aren't. Turns out, they are still the favorites. That is, if you are willing to believe Buster Olney.

I used to like Buster Olney's writing - a bit dry, but he seemed to have a pretty good grip on things. Plus, he spent two years as a beat writer following the Orioles. But the last two weeks have really made me reconsider my opinion on him; and to be frank, most reporters for the major news outlets.

It has been a kind of perfect storm around here for the last two weeks - things have been slow at work, I am enthralled by the whole Teixiera pursuit, and rumors are flying around everywhere. I have an add-on to my Firefox browser that allows me to see every update to MLB Trade Rumors as it is posted. I am following every link. I am reading every forum. For the first time, I'm putting the pieces together.

And what I've found is that none of these reporters know dick.

And yet, they will all take the same half-second blurb or soundbite or e-mail snippet and spin it in the direction that their sports editor wants them to spin it, and while they're at it, add a paragraph or two that expounds on this statement based on...well, based on horseshit, basically.

The Olney column that I linked to above is a perfect example of this. The Orioles have not made one single statement about their offer to Tex since the beginning of last week, when MacPhail said that their offer was "flexible". That's it. No leaks, no rumors, no statements, nothing. And yet, Bad-boy Buster has been making the absolute clear statement that the Orioles are completely out of the bidding. Based on what, exactly? Similarly, he has been repeating and repeating that the red sox are the 'clear' front-runners. Again, based on what, Buster? If you have inside knowledge that no one else is privy to, I'm sure that your ass would be putting in bold print at the top of your page, "according to an inside source...". But you really haven't made a statement like that.

You're going off of the same bullshit, third-hand, expired information that everyone on the Intro-net has been hashing and re-hashing for the last week. The only difference is that you work for ESPN and you have the balls to report your gut feelings and opinions as fact.

This would typically be the kind of thing to really disappoint me, but I feel as though I'm not alone in feeling this way. Baseball and sports fans in general now have access to exponentially more information than was ever available in the past, and I don't think I'm alone in coming to the realization that some of these reporters are bullshit artists of the highest order.

So anyway, don't take these reporters at their word just because they work for a big newspaper or magazine or gigantoid sports media outlet. They can be just as lazy and full of bullshit opinions as the rest of us - its just now that we can call them out on it.

omgomgomgomgomg

Dateline: Thursday, Dec. 19.

Boston -

9:58pm: Red Sox owner John Henry said:

"We met with Mr. Teixeira and were very much impressed with him. After hearing about his other offers, however, it seems clear that we are not going to be a factor."

Now obviously, as a massive, undying, through-and-through, dyed-in-the-red Orioles fan, I would love to see us obtain Mark Teixeira. It would not be the end of the world, however, if we did not end up getting him. All reports are pointing to the fact that he will most likely get an 8-year contract valued at about $22mm a year. That is a lot of dough for a long time. He is an amazing player and a perfect fit for the O's, but one player is not the answer, and we really need pitching. I think if the season were to start tomorrow, the O's rotation would be:

1. Jeremy Guthrie

2. Garrett Olsen?

3. The Oriole bird

4. Ernie Tyler

5. The re-assembled corpse of Hoyt Wilhelm

ANYway, the point is that while it would not be the end of the world if Tex didn't end up in Baltimore, it would be the end of the world if he were to end up with the red sox. To have to see that guy play against us day in and day out for the team I most despise would absolutely kill me.

But now, it looks like that won't happen! Happy x-mas to moi!

Except...this is Scott Boras that we're talking about, so who knows whether or not John Henry is bluffing in calling Boras' bluff. In all likelyhood, the sox have already signed him and they are just holding off on announcing it in some sadistic plot to allow the fans of shitbag teams like the O's and the Nationals to believe that there is a glimmer of hope in the massive black hole of despair that is Major League Baseball these days.

But of course, all of this information will change in about 15 minutes from now, so whatever.

I swear I'm not paranoid. I think I'm not paranoid, anyway. I suppose one of the hallmarks of being paranoid is that you're generally not aware that you're being paranoid - it has to be pointed out to you by some 'rational' colleague. But I'm pretty sure I'm not an overly paranoid kind of guy. But the fact of the matter is, I'm typing this blog entry in Windows Notepad so that I can quickly copy and paste it onto my blog page so as to minimize the chances of being caught not doing work while at work.

The way that my desk is set up is so that there is one person, let's call her 'Nindy', who sits right behind me. She pretty much has a complete view of my computer monitor at all times. There's not really a way that I can position my monitor or my body to block any portion of the screen from her view. It also so happens that she sits at her desk all day long, every day. So I'm left feeling that she is observing every key stroke and mouse click that I make throughout the day.

Now, this does border on paranoid for the following reasons:

1. I do actual work the majority of the time that I am at work.
2. She has never mentioned anything or made any sort of remark that would make me feel as though she is looking at my monitor, much less concerned that I am spending too much time writing this blog or doing whatever.
3. She isn't my boss, and wouldn't tell him, anyway.

So why do I care? I have no idea...I guess I shouldn't. But for the time being, I'm going to work the whole 'Keep Notepad open to jot down blog ideas' angle just in case.

Gotta go - she just sat down again...

Billy Speaks!

Bill Ripken, in all of his glory, finally answers the great unanswered question of my childhood: who wrote 'Fuck Face' on the end of his bat before his picture was taken for this card:

http://www.cnbc.com/id/28116692

Certifiably Awesome

Well, its official. I am now officially a Certified Technology Specialist. In other words, I now have documented proof that I am a giant nerd. Basically, it says that I know what the hell I'm talking about in regards to audiovisual equipment and sales. Pretty sweet, huh?

I had to take this 110 question test yesterday, which I passed with flying colors, but I had to take it at a ProMetric testing center. I realize that securely testing people is their job, but these guys are fucking serious. Not only did I have to completely empty all of my pockets and store everything in a locker, I also had to give them my fingerprints. Yeah, not just one - fingerprints from multiple fingers on each hand. They checked them and scanned them electronically on my way into and way out of the actual testing room. You know, in case I had concocted some elaborate scheme to go into the testing room, have someone there waiting for me in the air ducts to actually take the test, and then escaping out of the same air duct while the guy who took the test for me exits, pretending to be me. Or something similar to that, I guess.

Anyway, it was a very nice place, and everyone there was very nice, but it was the closest place to an FBI interrogation room that I've ever been. There were cameras everywhere, your ID was checked everywhere, and in the 'staging' room outside of the testing room, there was a massive mirrored window. Pay no attention to the massively oversized and out of place mirror behind you, sir.

So I guess that this is a ringing endorsement for ProMetric testing facilities - if you have an important test that you need to give people and you feel as though the air of a KGB secured underground bunker is the only way you can prevent people from cheating, I give them my hearty recommendation.

Now, off to go solve the world's audiovisual problems! CTS, away!!!

Moooose

I love this picture. I also love Mike Mussina. Like most Orioles fans my age, I absolutely loved him, then I hated him, and now I've pretty much grown to love him again.

I feel particularly connected to Mussina in that he was the first ballplayer that I can remember actually tracking as he came through the minors. I saw him pitch at Municipal Stadium when he played for the Hagerstown Suns. I tried to get his autograph, but I missed the chance. I remember very distinctly watching his major league debut on TV. I'm told by Baseball-Reference.com that he won 7-3 in 8 innings of work over Scott Erikson and the Twins. In my mind, he threw a no-hitter against the AL All-Stars, but whatever.

So I felt as though I had a justifyable claim on Mike. He was pitching for me. He was young, cool, he kicked ass, he played for the Orioles, my team, and I felt like I was the only one who knew or cared about him. Which was entirely possible, at least in my general vicinity, as I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania that really didn't give a crap about the Orioles at all.

I watched Mike pitch along side Gregg Olsen, Fernando Venezuela, Alan Mills, Ben McDonald, Todd Frowirth, Curt Schilling, and play along side Cal, Mike Deveroux, Brady Anderson, Harold Baines, Rafael Palmeiro, and all the rest of the Orioles throughout the heyday of my baseball-watching and playing youth. He was absolutely my favorite pitcher, and probably my second-favorite player in all of baseball.

So when he was picked up by the Yankees, I was obviously disappointed. And saddened. And a little bit hurt. But at that time, I had kinda grown away from baseball anyway. I kept track of the O's by seeing their record in the paper or whatever, but I really had grown pretty disillusioned with the sport, and I didn't really care about it any more. Cal was almost done, Brady had his steroid year and fell off the table, Jose Canseco was playing for Tampa Bay, there was a team in Tampa Bay, the Yankees won everything every year, and now my favorite player, the one guy I still actually gave a shit about, had done the unthinkable - he had become a traitor and forsaken his ties to the good people of Baltimore and gone where the money was. Fucking New York.

I remember officially dismissing baseball as soon as I found out that he had left. That was the final straw. I was going to college, my life was changing, and I didn't need that kind of bullshit anymore. Baseball was kid's stuff, anyway.

So life and baseball went on. Moose kept on pitching in his inimitable silent and crossword puzzle-completing fashion, I ironically moved to Baltimore to go to school, and I didn't think twice about baseball. For a while.

I'm not sure what it was in me that clicked, exactly, but in 2004, all of the sudden I was absolutely unapologetically head-over-heels back in love with baseball. I read every single book I could get my hands on, I played fantasy baseball, I played baseball simulations, I thought about statistics and new analysis techniques that I never knew existed in my younger days, and pretty much just immersed myself back into baseball. It helped that the first half of the summer of 2005, the Orioles had a great start and were actually looking like a real team...that didn't last long, but I was back in the fold. I'm so glad that I did - it gives me something to do when I'm at work, and something to look forward to when spring rolls around.

And so I think that its fitting that as my love for baseball has been renewed, my admiration for Mike Mussina as he is retiring has also been renewed. He is the first baseball player that I can remember fully tracking the entire arc of his career - from minors to retirement. He has been a class-act all of the way, and has held his own in an era that saw both the highest offensive output in the history of baseball and at least 5 for-sure hall-of-fame pitchers (Clemens, Johnson, Maddux, Glavine, Pedro). In another era, he may have been seen as one of the best in baseball. He stood tall amongst giants of ability and ego. He does crossword puzzles. He's a pretty cool guy.

So thanks, Mike, for hanging in there even when I didn't give a shit about baseball. Thanks for not (probably) taking steroids. Thanks for having a cool signature pitch. Thanks for hanging with Baltimore for as long as you could and not complaining, even though Albert Belle was probably a total jackass. Thanks for learning command and control after you had lost your velocity. I'm sorry I hated you for pitching for the Yankees. Secretly, I'm pretty glad you never won a World Series with them.

And good luck with that whole Hall of Fame thing. You've got my vote.

A Meta-Blog

I've been doing this blog thing for about two months now...I know I don't write every day, but I've been pretty consistent and I think I'm getting better at working within the confines of the blog medium. I tend to get pretty positive comments from the 4 or 5 people who have checked out my site so far, and I happen to be of the opinion that perhaps many more people might have good things to say about my blog.

However, the only way that I can spread the word about my blog is to advertise. I've been doing some guerrilla marketing the last month or so...I have a link to the site at the bottom of all of my personal e-mails, and I try to mention it to people who might give a shit, etc. But if I really try to market it or push it on people I don't know, doesn't that shift my motivation for having this blog? I started it just to do it, write about my awesome scooter, and give myself an excuse to write. I told myself I didn't care if no one reads it.

Except, I do.

I want people to come to my blog from all over the internet and post comments and have me post back and start flame wars and have people accuse me of not knowing what the hell I'm talking about and parlay all of this buzz into a regular paid column at ESPN. Is that too much to ask?

So, who knows? In another month or so, all of my loyal fans may be forsaken for the great unwashed rabble of the general internet population. Such is the way of a crappy personal blog about anything I feel like. Time marches on. Or not. Probably not.

/wantonly self-promotes through other peoples' blogs

I Love my Car. Really.

Yeah, I know, I know. This blog is supposed to be about my misadventures whilst riding my scooter through the crazy streets of Baltimore, MD. But it is December in the Northeast, and it is cold. And windy. And damp. So I've been driving my car to work. Sue me. Or pay me to write this blog and I'll write about any damn thing you want.

Now that I'm putting some serious miles on the ol' Jetta, its time to actually put some work into the girl. I've had the car for almost 3 years now, and it has not really given me any problems at all, which is pretty incredible, considering I do no maintenance outside of oil changes and occasionally cleaning the windshield. Well, some issues are finally starting to creep up on me. Here's a list of the things I need to have done or do to the car, in order of seriousness/immediacy:

- Replace front brakes
- Replace brake fluid
- Fix driver's side mirror/find the asshole that broke it and beat him/her up
- Get a new spare tire
- Replace spark plugs
- Replace fuel filter
- Check struts & shocks to see what's causing that weird clunking sound when I hit any bump in the street. Baltimore has many bumps in its streets.
- Get rid of annoying mildew smell inside
- Clean it, eventually

So its not the end of the world, but it is a bit of an investment of time and/or money. The problem is that I'm absolutely convinced that I am capable of doing all of these repairs myself. Ergo, I won't take it to the shop. Nevermind the fact that I will curse every minute that I'm fixing my damn car in the street on a cold Saturday when I should be inside curled up in front of a nice warm video game. And I'll probably spend more money trying to fix it and buying incidental tools and parts than I would just taking it to the shop.

Its not my fault - really. Blame my stepdad, who never, I mean ever, took any of my family's cars to the shop unless it was under warranty, and even then he did it with great trepidation. The only problem is that he passed on the DIY attitude to me, but since I don't have his genetic make-up, I don't have the technical ability to do the work myself. Ironic, eh?

Here's to a very dirty, cold, frustrating, and expensive weekend.

lol rotfl ctrl-1

Oh my god - I really really laughed out loud and caused a disturbance at work today when I read this:

Lenny Dykstra & Curt Schilling, Dugout-style.

I laughed so hard I actually made a comment on the blog.  I never comment on other people's blogs.  Read now.

Main St. Sterling

Yesterday I spent the day driving around Northern Virginia making sales calls, which as you can imagine, was just about the most fun I've ever had in my life. Actually, it wasn't all that bad, but the absolute highlight of the day was my stop in Sterling, VA - I had never been there before, but I was taken with it.

I'm sure that there is a 'real' section of Sterling, with a main street and houses that were built before last year, but the part of Sterling that I saw was the brilliant fake city/main street that they had built as sort of a giant outdoor mall. I've seen this type of thing before, but never to this level. The 'town' has its own streets, benches, lampposts, mailboxes, the whole nine yards - but it is all fake, and built around the franchise stores that they were able to get to move in. Plus, for good measure, there were some pre-fab cookie-cutter townhouses and condos around the 'outskirts' where people could live when they aren't getting coffee from Starbucks and shopping at Bed, Bath & Beyond.

Its all very surreal, and I guess I don't really have anything against it, except for the fact that they are trying to re-create a small-town, main street style atmosphere with the very corporations that destroyed the real small-town main streets.

In my hometown of Waynesboro, PA, we actually used to have a Main St. with real shops that people actually went to and purchased goods and services. There was a laundromat, a JC Penny, a McCrory's, a shoe store, a hardware store, a bakery, two banks, a candy store, a couple of kid's clothing stores, a library, town hall, a comic book/baseball card store, the whole nine yards. It has steadily been in decline since I was about 8, thanks to a Wal-Mart, Applebee's, and other corporate stores moving to the surrounding area, and now all that remains is a shitty Chinese restaurant and a pizza place that no one ever goes to.

I guess that's part of life and the ebb and flow of free market economies, but I feel sorry for kids that are growing up in Sterling, VA, whose only experience of a small-town main street is one that is populated by AT&T, Baja Fresh, Lowe's, and Pizzaria Uno.

Ah well. At least I still have 24.

My Vices, Part 5,743

I love the TV show 24.

I should not love the TV show 24.

But I do. I relish every moment. I make it into a weekly event. I get into the plot lines. I think about it all day Monday. I go to the damn show's website. I want to be Jack Bauer. I want my daughter to be as hot as Elisha Cuthbert:





No, wait. Maybe not. That's weird.

Anyway, what is remarkable about the fact that I worship 24 (which is really not all that remarkable, considering it is one of the most popular shows on TV), is that I really don't like TV all that much. I don't really watch much TV outside of The Office, Dirty Jobs, Nova, Bizarre Foods, and baseball. And even those shows I have to Tivo because I can't stand to sit through the commercials, let alone schedule time to sit down and watch a show on their time.

But I will for 24.

Another interesting facet of this is that I really don't like action shows on TV. Mostly because they suck. I don't really watch CSI or Law & Order or NYPD Blue or Magnum PI or whatever is on these days. I like informational documentaries on everyday things. Its just like my love for non-fiction books. But man, there's nothing I like more than Jack Bauer simultaneously texting the President, defusing a bomb, and assassinating a terrorist all while having a gaping, gushing wound, not having slept for a 24 hours, and driving a huge SUV over a cliff.

It is so rediculous, it's awesome.

I guess that's it...it is so far over the top that I have to love it. Every week is an absolute manufactured cliff-hanger. You know its coming, but you watch anyway. The writers of 24 LOVE to fuck with you - giving you clues that don't mean anything, giving you long, dramatic pauses that don't lead to anything, cutting to commercial right when something awesome is about to happen. Incredible show.

So I'm going to watch it again beginning this Sunday and will give updates on this blog on Mondays.

But really I just wanted to post a picture of Elisha Cuthbert on this blog.

/oggles

The Flame Will Always Burn

Well, I guess you can't win every battle.

For the very few of you out there who actually read this blog, also read www.firejoemorgan.com, and care, you'll probably already know this, and for the rest of you, you're arriving at the party just a tad too late. My second-favorite website in the world, Fire Joe Morgan, is officially calling it quits.

I have to say that I saw this coming, as their posts had become less and less frequent over the last couple of months, and hey, the writers are real people with real jobs and I guess kids and b.s. like that. It makes me really, really sad, though...this means the end of one of the two websites that could actually get me to laugh out loud. Not just a chuckle, or a smile, or a 'mmmthatsfunny', but a god-honest out-loud laugh.

They got it. They said the things that I wishwishwish I was eloquent enough to say in this blog. They wrote the way I wanted to write. They found the same things stupid that I did, for the same reasons. They cared about punctuation, spelling, and grammar. They talked about baseball, and the things that I really, really like about baseball.

In my mind, I can't write well enough to even be allowed to write about them on my own blog - I feel as though I am discrediting them in some way due to my....ummm....suckiness as writer-guy? So, since I can't say enough or the right things or in the right way about them, do yourself a favor and check out some of my favorite posts.

http://www.firejoemorgan.com/2008/09/holy-cow-does-jon-heyman-hate-vorp.html

http://www.firejoemorgan.com/2008/07/time-magazine-is-not-source-for-correct.html

http://www.firejoemorgan.com/2008/07/turdclump.html

See?? I can't even do that right...there have been so many incredibly incredible posts at that site that I was having trouble remembering specific ones, so I just worked backwards from the last post. Then, I got distracted by some of the posts and I had to read them over again, and laugh, again, and then I got bored and now all that you have are three 'okay' posts that are supposed to represent A WEBSITE THAT MEANS MORE TO ME THAN MY LEFT HAND.

I'm sorry guys, I really am. Go read for yourself.

Mmmm...Capitalism

I like Starbucks. There. I said it. What? You don't?

I don't particularly relish in the fact that I like Starbucks, but hey, at least I'm not alone. From what I hear, its a fairly popular brand. Yeah, they are a mega-corporation, and an icon of the best and the worst that capitalism offers:

Good: Great-tasting coffee at fairly reasonable prices (even though admittedly they made the American consumer okay with the concept of a $4 cup of coffee).
Bad: Thousands upon thousands of chain stores moving into target markets and running smaller, locally-owned stores out of business. Good: A corporate image that attempts to reflect care for the environment, communities, and its employees.
Bad: Allegedly establishing monopolies in certain communities and artificially raising prices due to lack of competition
Good: Starbucks Doubleshot on Ice
Bad: Pike's Place Roast



Ugh. Pike's Place Roast. Beginning last year, Starbucks started offering this "new, special blend" in an attempt to cater to the Dunkin' Donuts crowd. In other words, they started brewing cheap gas station coffee. Now don't get me wrong, I love me some cheap gas station coffee when I'm in the mood, but I come to Starbucks for a cup of coffee that at least has the pretension of tasting better than that. If I'm going to lower myself to visit a Starbucks, I might as well get a cup of coffee that makes it worth my time.

It wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that they apparently have attempted to make it their brew of choice - if you just walk in and ask for a coffee, they'll give you Pike's Place. All of the pound bags of coffee laying around for sale are Pike's Place. All of the in-store ads are for Pike's Place. This has gone on for about a year now, but I think the seams are starting to wear a bit.

Nearly every time that I've walked into a Starbucks and asked for a "any medium coffee that isn't Pike's Place," I've been met with a knowing smile from the barista. Sometimes, as happened yesterday, they will actually acknowledge that they hate the stuff or that it tastes like crap. And sometimes, like yesterday, they actually say,

"Yeah, I hear its going to be phased out here pretty soon."


yayyy

Oh, Hell Yes

'nuff said.

Ahh, the Year in Review

Time: Longer than usual because I had to run back upstairs to get my scooter keys when I went outside this morning and found that it wasn't -50 degrees outside

Miles: 879

I'm a huge fan of FanGraphs.com - its a great site that has a lot of people who are much smarter than me discussing baseball topics that I'm typically really into. I'm also a huge fan of the Baltimore Orioles (NEW UNIFORMS COMING TODAY!!!). So I've been waiting with baited breath for FanGraphs to finally write the Year in Review for the Orioles. And they finally did.

blah.

I don't really know what I was expecting - I mean, they hit all of the nails collectively on their respective heads, but I think the review was a bit more dismal than it needed to be. But I'm used to it by now...somehow in the past 10 years or so, Baltimore has consistently received this kind of treatment, and with good reason. I think it was the worst in the beginning of 2005, when the Orioles looked like legitimate contenders before it was discovered that Miguel Tejada was injecting Jay Gibbons' and Rafael Palmeiro's love child with anthrax, or whatever. There was close to zero coverage of the team, and what coverage there was of "when the wheels were going to fall off" (which they did), "when the yankees would turn it around" (which they did), "red sox because boston", and "yankees yankees red sox Ortiz Jeter Jeter yankees courage red sox gamer gritty Jeter A-rod sux red sox yankees".

But I mean...read the article. The guy's name is Melvin Mora, not Melvin More. The top catching prospect in the game, if not the top prospect in the game's name is spelled Wieters, not Weiters.

I know, its just me being petty and picking on them for telling me that my team sucks. But....dude...I mean....c'mon...dude. And plus, Aubrey Huff is going to repeat his numbers from this year, so we're in good shape, right? Right??

/has faith in Baltimore
/responds to e-mail stating that he won $1,000,000
/falls for other such nonsense

Annoyances, part 523

Time: 20 minutes
Miles: I keep forgetting to check when I come in...I think 860?

If there is one thing that annoys me, and in fact many, many, many things annoy me, it is people who honk their horns immediately after a light turns green when they are five cars back in a line.

This happened this morning when I was turning onto MLK. There is always a lot of traffic, and typically when the light turns green to cross MLK, there are still some cars in the intersection turning left or just sitting there or whatever. That was the case this morning, and I swear 5 seconds after the light turned green this guy behind me starts to honk. I'm the 5th vehicle in line, so he's the 6th.

What the hell is he thinking, and what the hell is he trying to accomplish? Does he really think that we're all just sitting there in front of him, looking at a green light, and thinking, "Gosh, I know I'm supposed to do something here, but what?" I can understand his frustration, lord knows, but a. I believe you should wait at least 10 seconds before honking, and then you may do so politely, and b. the honker should be the person directly behind the person that isn't moving.

I mean, really...anyone who is on the road at 7:30 in the morning is either on their way to work or on their way back home from work. Either way, it is safe to say that the only thing on everyone's mind is, "God I fucking hate traffic. Even my shitty job is better than this. At least I can play Boggle online at work." So I feel that everyone can rest assured that us morning commuters are ALL IN THIS TOGETHER.

We should not fight or jockey for position, or drive exceedingly slowly or pass people on the right out of frustration.

We should not block intersections after your light turns red.

We should not cut off or ride up on the butt of the sexy man on the scooter in front of you.

And possibly most importantly, we should not honk at a line of cars immediately after a red light turns green.

In the face of economic turmoil and strife rampant throughout the world, we must UNITE, brothers!! Only together can we combat morning road rage! YES, WE CAN!! YES, WE CAN!!
















/weeps profusely

Circumnavigating the Mega-corporation Seas

So I’m trying to sell some of my crappy guitars on eBay, and to do that I had to update my PayPal account. I don’t know if you’ve ever fucked around with PayPal, but they are the most anal-retentive security-laden company in the world. Every time I’ve ever had to update anything on my account, it has involved them sending me a hard copy letter to my parent’s house in PA and then me doing about 12 levels of security verification.

Anyway, I haven’t used eBay or PayPal in a long time, and when I tried to update my account today, it told me that I had to call in. So I did, and waited on hold for 20 minutes and then talked to an account representative, who asked me my first and last name.

“John Rossman”

“Okay, Mr. Rossman, what can I do for you today?”

“I would like to update the phone number associated with my account.”

“I’m sorry sir, but only the owner of the account can update that information.”

“But I am the owner.”

“No, I’m sorry, the name that is listed on the account is different than the name you provided.”

“What do you mean? What is the name on the account?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you that information.”

“Oh, I know, I know…its listed under ‘Jay’ Rossman. Don’t worry – that’s me.”

“I’m sorry, but I can only let the name listed on the account update the profile.”

“But that’s me! I’m Jay Rossman!”

“That’s not the name that you provided me when I asked what your name was.”

“That’s my nickname! I am Jay Rossman! I am John Rossman! We are the same person! It is I!”

“I’m sorry, but I can only let the name listed on the account update the profile.”

“So let me get this straight: you can’t let me update the phone number on my profile because I said initially that my name was John and the name on the profile is Jay?”

“That is correct.”

“Okay, then I will just hang up, call again, and tell the next person that my name is Jay. Which it is.”

“………………………………”

“I’m sorry, but I can only let the name listed on the acco…”


*click*


Needless to say, 20 minutes later I updated Jay Rossman’s information. What fun!

Shameless Self-promotion

To anyone who hasn't seen it yet:

Good Company

Time: Didn't feel like it, but 22 minutes
Miles: 847

It was another gorgeous morning today and I was able to break out the scooter for what I feel will be the last couple rides for the season. She roared to life this morning - started right up - and acted like she was mad at me for not using her for the last week. Great ride, no complaints, all was right with the world.

Until I pulled into work.

I got off of my scooter and turned around, and the scooter that I had noticed was coming up behind me on the road was now whipping around the corner and coming right at me. The very large man behind the handlebars stopped quickly and launched into a Bawl'mer accent-laden tirade about how great these scooter things are and where did you get it I bet you went up to Towson yeah I wanted to get mine there but I didn't and how much did you pay for it and make sure you lock that thing up because the little black boys will steal them before you know what happened and see mine is a Yamaha but they're probably the same engine and how long have you had it and make sure you lock that thing up etc.

Now, I realize the guy is just being friendly and was excited to see a fellow enthusiast, but my GOD did this guy go on and on and on. I couldn't get a word in edge-wise, even if I had actually wanted to. I did the whole walk backwards away from him so that he would get the message that I needed to go thing at least three times, to no avail. So finally I just said, "Welp, take it easy," and turned around and walked into work. He drove off.

What's my point? No point. I love my scooter, but sometimes the whole "talking shop" thing gets a bit old. Of course, I am an ass, so its probably just me.

Cheating Just a Bit

I don't really have anything for you today...it was a late night last night. So here's a picture of my cat:
This blog stuff sure is tough work...

/wipes brow

What We Need In This Series is Another Delay

A humble apology to all of my loyal fans for the lack of updates recently...Truth be told, I haven't been riding my scooter this week due to rainy/cold/hellish weather and the need for me to travel to far off, distant places like Fairfax, VA. I will also be quite honest with you. Its getting REALLY cold in the mornings. I'll leave it at that for right now.

In case you don't pay attention to, well, anything, Obama will be delaying the start of tonight's pivotal Game 5 by 15 minutes to offer you the fast way to rock-hard abs. Well, maybe not.

I think its funny that McCain criticized the move by saying, "Well, I can tell you one thing, we won't be delaying the start of a baseball game with infomercials when I'm president," because, A) he probably will, and B) Obama fans don't like baseball anyway. They like playing Halo 3, foosball, fantasy football, and writing pointless blogs that no one reads!

/wallows in self-pity

Bradford-1000

Seeing Chad Bradford warming up during the 6th inning of tonight's game reminds me of the time that my friend Lea (not the biggest baseball fan in the world), upon seeing Bradford when he pitched for the Orioles, asked me,

Lea: "Is that legal?"
Me: /looks up from nerdy baseball scoresheet, pushes glasses up nose
"Is what legal?"
Lea: "That pitcher - is the pitch allowed to hit the ground before it gets to the batter?"
Me: "Um, yeah, but it would be a ball."
Lea: "Right, but that last pitch was a strike."
Me: "Yeah, but it didn't hit the ground."
Lea: "Yes it did - that pitcher bounced his pitch off of the mound and somehow aimed it at the strike zone. I didn't think that was legal."
Me: "yeah baseball is weird..."
/returns to scoring game without explaining that Bradford-1000 is an extreme submarine pitcher whose pitching arm almost scrapes the mound, creating the illusion, to those who have never seen such a thing, that he is bouncing the baseball off of the pitching mound
Lea: ermahgawd i need sum boogs bbq

Time: 25 minutes, because I got stuck behind this grain elevator/conveyor belt on wheels
Miles: Forgot to check...something like 817?

So I have to say that I am absolutely loving this World Series. I haven't really been able to get a feel from anybody else, though. I feel as though baseball fans should enjoy the matchup, but I also can understand why people who don't give a shit about baseball would continue to not give a shit about this.

But I'm absolutely loving it...a series that's tied up at 1-1 going to Philadelphia, two close games, two fairly evenly matched teams, no blowouts. You can feel it going to 7 games.

However I also know that this will be the World Series that people look back on and say, "Yeah, the red sox won it in '04 and '07...they were still really really good going into '08. Who the hell played in the series that year? I know Tampa Bay won one back around that period...was that it? Who the hell did they play? The Phillies? Are you kidding me? I don't even remember that. What the hell is an Iwamura?"

So I'm lapping it up while I can before next year, when Bud Selig will find some way to have the red sox play the yankees AND the Mets in the World Series, so we can have a glorious return to the Tim McCarver the way we all know him best: shoved lovingly up Derek Jeter's ass.

Nevermind

The Backstreet Boys (4 out of 5) to sing the National Anthem for Game 1????? Are you shitting me???

Sorry Tampa Bay, this doesn't bode well for you.

And one of the wireless mics keeps cutting out...as if anything could make this performance more annoying.

Wow.

Well, I'm about to start watching the 2008 World Series. Here are a couple of things that I never, ever, ever, ever thought that I would say:

1. The Tampa Bay Rays are in the World Series.
2. The Tampa Bay Rays have a legitimately good shot at winning it all.
3. Its kinda cool that the World Series is being played in the dome.
4. The Orioles now have to compete with Tampa Bay, along with boston and new york. Toronto is pretty fucking good, too.
5. I'm rooting for TAMPA freaking BAY in the WORLD SERIES

/head explodes

I'm really excited about the series, as I feel most real baseball fans are. Its a great matchup, neither the yankees nor the red sox are involved, and both teams are fairly young (although Jamie Moyer kinda skews the Phillies' average) so this could be a sign of a changing of the guard. In fact, I feel like the entire 2008 season has kinda been a harbinger of things to come.

- For the first time in a while, the yankees looked really old, and were never really a threat
- Homerun totals are down, stolen bases and doubles are up
- The entire year felt like a year for the youngin's: Lincecum, Hanley Ramirez, pedroia, David Price, Volquez, Longoria, Alexi Ramirez, Geovanny Soto...
- The NL is slowly getting better

Anyway, I love this game. And there's always next year for the Orioles, right?

/cries single tear

Truth Conquers All

Time: 18 minutes
Mileage: 802.3

You know those little Christian fish insignias that people like to put on the back of their cars? Those things are fine by me - whatever you want to put on the back of your car, I suppose. And then they advanced to feature the word "Truth" in the middle of it - also fine. A bit more forceful, but still fine. And then some hippie came out with the little fish with legs on it that said "Darwin". I liked that one. And then some hippie came out with the fish with legs on it that said "Darwin" that was eating the Christian fish that said "Truth". So you know where the logical conclusion for all of this lies:

I saw one of these on a car that was in front of me this morning, and in between cursing at the biting cold and trying not to hit any black ice, it occurred to me that this particular iteration of the fish bumper thingy might not be relaying the correct message for its intended audience.

To wit:

The bumper thingy where the Darwin fish is eating the Truth fish is (I believe) intending to make the joke that not only has the fish evolved and grown legs, but it is fulfilling Darwin's theory that the most well-adapted species will thrive over those not so well-adapted.

So when the Truth fish eats the Darwin fish...aren't the Christians kinda proving the hippies' point? I'm not totally sure how an animal with no eyes, no fins, no visible means of locomotion is better adapted for the rugged environment of being glued to the back of a Saturn, but it appears as though that is one tough fish.

And if that isn't the case, then what are we to assume? That the Truth fish was not truly superior to the Darwin fish, it was just really really hungry and got kinda lucky?

I dunno, but I think any of these would be a preferable alternative:

We Have Been Released

Note that in the middle of the 8th inning, after David Price struck out JD Drew with the bases loaded, I actually made the promise to myself that if the red sox came back to win the game, I would become a Boston fan.

News update: They didn't!

While I'm at It...

From Craig Calcaterra at Shysterball, who is pretty much the inspiration for this blog: Why We Blog.

More Joe

I think I'm just going to turn this blog into a re-direct site to Joe Posnanski's blog.

Brilliant stuff from the man:

Then, I worked for numerous hours on this book I may have mentioned that I’m working on, and then I came home to watch the debate/Dodgers-Phillies game. What I wanted to do was watch them both at more or less the same time, switching back and forth so that one minute I’m watching Shane Victorino strike out swinging, then I watch John McCain talk to Joe the Plumber, then I watch Barack Obama talk to Joe the Plumber then I watch Rafael Furcal ground out to second, then I hear Tim McCarver go through all sorts of verbal contortions to make the point that it was fitting that Shane Victorino ran into the Best Buy sign because he was the Phillies’ best buy in a long time, then more Joe the Plumber talk*.

*Man, seriously, I know it’s hard to get a plumber on short notice these days, but all this talk about Joe the Plumber seemed a bit excessive to me. Of course, once they got going with it, I wish they would have kept going with it.

McCain: “Joe the Plumber, I wanna tell you, I’ll not only help you buy that business you worked your whole life for, I’ll keep your taxes low.”

Schieffer: “Would you like to respond Senator Obama?”

Obama: “I would. I’d like to say a quick word out there to Stan the Cable guy. Stan, my DVR is not working properly. I don’t know, I left the house, and Michelle was messing with it, and well, now it’s not recording anything. I know I will need a new DVR, but — and this is important, now — I have some Bears games on there already, and I’m hoping that I can still salvage those. I have not seen them yet. And I will keep your taxes low because you’re not stinking rich like Joe the Plumber.”

Schieffer: “OK, let’s move on …”

McCain: No, wait, I feel I must have a chance to respond. I would like to say something to Lisa the Maid, you know, I seem to have lost the remote control for the television. I’m not blaming you, I think that I left it in the couch or something after I watched the Cardinals beat the Cowboys the other day …

Obama: I saw that.

McCain: … but anyway, I can’t find it now. And we have that kind of TV that you can’t turn it on or off without the remote control, which I think is stupid, and I know how to fix it, and I will fix it my friends.

Obama: Senator McCain is right, we do need to fix these televisions that require a remote control to turn on and off. But if I may, Bob, I would like to say one thing to Jake and Cindy, who are supposed to mow my lawn this week. Kids, you need to edge. You really do.

Schieffer: Fine. Next question is to you Senator McCain. Why is your Health Care plan better than his?

McCain: One last thing, Joe the Plumber. I keep shaking the little flusher lever, but the toilet keeps on running.

Now you know

Time: 16 bitter, hatred-filled minutes
Miles: 762

So now, I hope, you all know why I hate the red sox as much as I do. There are so many, many, many things that I absolutely loathe about that team. Almost too many to enumerate, but here's a couple more reasons I hate postseason baseball (and by that I mean I love postseason baseball) with the red sox in it:

1. How Chip Carey (and really the rest of the broadcast crew) is so fucking far up Dustin Pedroia's ass, because he's such a gutty gritty grinder hustle never stops overcomes obstacles lots of fight in him white guy.
2. How Chip Carey (and really the rest of the broadcast crew) is so fucking far up the red sox's ass because of their never-say-die attitude and the "magic" of fenway park and how dirty all of their helmets are.
3. I hate how TBS absolutely loves immediately going to a shot of a dejected Tampa Bay fan as soon as anything goes wrong...it rubs salt in the wound kinda like how my girlfriend makes this "uh-oh..." sound under her breath when anything goes right for the sox. Love you!
4. I hate how Coco Crisp and Kevin Youklis and Pedroia and f*ing Jed Lowrie can foul off a million pitches until they get a pitch to hit.
5. I hate how rattled Dan Wheeler got in the 7th and that it just played into the red sox fans hand.
6. I really hate JD Drew's face.
7. I hate how David Ortiz, who couldn't hit the side of his face to slap himself in the first four games, suddenly shows up and hits the biggest homerun of the series so far.
8. I hate how Pedroia's hit to start the rally had to come with two strikes and two outs, thereby ensuring his "legendary" status in this "legendary" come-from-behind-against-all-odds win.
9. I hate that stupid Dirty Water song.
10. I hate Wally, the Green Monster.
11. I hate how I *knew* the red sox would eventually win this game, somehow, even in the first inning.
12. I hate it when I'm right about that.

In short, I hate the red sox because they are a really, really good team. They do the right things well. They make pitchers work and don't typically give cheap outs. They play good defense. They don't lie down, even down 7-0 in the 7th, facing elimination.

13. I hate that they just made me say that.

All of that being said, however, I still have to defer to Joe Posnanski - great journalist out in KC who has a fantastically awesome blog - to provide the summation of the game...PLEASE check it out.

Go Rays!1

Muzak Rules

For what its worth, I think that its worth mentioning that I'm sitting in the lounge of a Marriott Hotel typing this while "The Way That You Are" by Smashmouth, the muzak version, is being piped over the background music system.

I'd like to hear how the decision to record a minor Smashmouth hit came down from the bigwigs at Muzak:

Bigwig 1: Well, gentlemen, thank you all for coming. As we all know, Muzak, Inc. continues to be the leading seller of crappy instrumental background music across the globe. However, thanks to this shaky economy and general unease throughout the marketplace, we must firm up our footholds where ever we can.

Bigwig 2: You mean by targeting commercial locations that are likely to attract clientele that prefer our version of lite instrumental pop hits from the 70s and 80s?

BW 1: no dumbass by recording new Smashmouth tunes

BW 2: Oh yes, of course.

BW 1: Smashmouth fans are the new versions of the nebulous consumers of our product that we have always tried to target - they are Carpenters fans transplanted to today's fast-paced world. If they like Smashmouth, it is likely that their fathers and/or mothers were big fans of Jackson Browne back in the day.

BW 2: I see now! I can't wait to brainstorm other similar contemporary artists that also fit the bill...The Goo-Goo Dolls...Sister Hazel...umm...uhh...whos that black chick who looks like hermes from futurama

BW 3: Tracy Chapman. Perfect.

Traitor!

Time: Like 10 minutes
Miles: 69,097

Okay, okay. Yeah, I took my car to work today, on a beautiful 70-degree October day. Its a little bit irritating that I couldn't take my scooter today, actually - the reason is that I have to go pick up my suit from the cleaners. You wouldn't think that such an insignificant task would have such a significant impact on my travel decisions for the day, but these are the things you have to think about when you take on the mantle of a scooter rider. Heavy is the head who wears the crown.

It also occurred to me how crazy I am: I actually got to work early today to a. update my blog, and b. play freaking Bridge on my computer. Yet again I prove the fact that I am a 75 year old woman in a 20-something man's body.

To my legions of fans: sorry about the lack of updates - I'll get back on it.

Go Rays! Beat Boston's sorry ass one more time in their home court and watch all the Joe bandwagon fans stop rooting for them!

Magic, Magic, Rays Magic!

There's something happening here...~!

Alright, enough with the corny ripoff of the Orioles Magic song from the 80's. Lets get down to the business of the fact that the Rays are not going to lay down, bite their pillow, and accept wuts cumming to them in this ALCS. I loved last night's game, and I love the fact that the red sox just might get beat by stinkin' Tampa Bay. However, as a devout Orioles fan, I have to accept this with more than just a little trepidation, as the ascendency of the Rays this year means that there is yet another strong team in the AL East. Why couldn't this have been the Nat's year?

But enough about me being selfish. Notes on last night's game:

- I think last night was the kind of game that baseball fans love and that non-baseball fans hate. I was literally on the edge of my seat almost the entire night. And rooting for Tampa Bay. /slaps self

- It is only a matter of time before David Ortiz starts hitting the ball like he can and not like the third grader he looks like right now. I can only hope that when that happens somehow Dustin Pedroia, Kevin Youklis, and Jason Bay have all been swallowed up by some sort of intra-space wormhole that prevents them from ever playing baseball, or existing in this realm again. Or that they stop hitting as well as they are. Whichever.

- Hilarious moment when Chip Carey mentioned that he wanted to see someone hit a home run into the Manta Ray tank out in left field. The camera showed a shot of the tank, and not only was no one anywhere near it, but it also appeared as though all the rays had gone home for the evening.

- I knew it was a bad idea to leave Chad Bradford out for a third inning. I mean, during his tenure as an Oriole, Perlozzo and Trembley would never let him throw more than about two pitches before taking him out for Jamie Walker, lest a left-hander come anywhere near home plate - at which point I had assumed that Bradford-1000 would self-destruct or enter anti-virus protection mode or something. Good to know I was right.

- I wish EA Sports would create and market a game that consisted of you, the batter, trying to do nothing but hit line drives straight at Jonathan Papelbon's arm. I would definitely download that torrent.

Time for a blueberry waffle or two. Go Rays!

/slaps self

The Best of the Best

Time: 17 minutes
Mileage: 718.something

So I've lived in Baltimore more almost 7 years now, and if there is one thing that Baltimore city drivers (and scooterists) will tell you about driving in the city is that we have most likely the most FUBAR, illogical, under-maintained traffic light system in the country. Now I know that's a bold claim, but you spend 20 minutes getting down MLK Boulevard at 1 AM with no traffic, and you tell me you don't agree.

The problem is not so much with placement as it is with timing. I truly believe that back in olden days when people drove Cadillacs with huge fins on the back and everyone listened to the Beach Boys, some city traffic coordinator set the timing for the lights, most likely while drunk, and then sat back and said, "Whelp, that should do it for the next 70 years or so." I've never seen a badly timed traffic light be changed since I've been here, and I don't think I ever will. It just goes on and on - most Baltimoreans have simply taken it for granted by this point.

Anyway, I thought I'd share with you a couple of my personal faves:

#1 Worst Light Ever in the History of Timing Things Award:
South Caton Ave. @ Joh & Georgetown Roads, SW Baltimore/Arbutus

View Larger Map

This little bundle of joy has been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember. I practice with my band right down the street from this intersection, and if I want to take I-95 to practice, I have to sit through this light. And when I say sit, I mean sit. I shit you not - the actual cycle time of this light is 2 1/2 minutes from red to green. Here's how it goes:

1. N/S bound traffic on Caton Ave.
2. East-bound traffic from Joh Ave.
3. West-bound traffic from Georgetown Ave.
4. Left-hand turning traffic on Caton Ave.
5. N/S bound traffic on Caton Ave.

Now, you may be saying to yourself that that doesn't look too bad, but here's the kicker: there is never any traffic on Joh or Georgetown Ave. Never. Look at the satellite map - the only thing down Joh Ave. is the emissions inspection station and ITT Tech, and the only thing down Georgetown Ave. is nothing. So you find yourself sitting on Caton Ave. for 2 1/2 minutes while the lights cycle and no one is moving anywhere. If you think I'm being petty, give it a try for yourself. Enjoy!

#2 Worst Light in Baltimore at Least Award:
MLK @ Howard St.

View Larger Map

I know what you're saying to yourself: "How could that absolute cluster-fuck of an intersection provide any problem to anyone at any time?" I hear you. And here's the thing - it doesn't have to be!!!! The first problem is that at this point MLK goes from being a four-lane road to a two-lane road. Problem 2: there are always double-length buses turning left from Eutaw St. onto MLK that block the intersection. Problem 3: there is a light for the crosswalk inbetween Eutaw and Howard Sts. that will stay red for seemingly forever while the light in front of it is green. As soon as the crosswalk light turns green....you guessed it, the light at Howard St. turns red. Yeah, that sounds like the kind of thing you want to have at an already crowded and complicated intersection at the end of the busiest street in Baltimore.

Alright, I'm done now. I'll try to take some pictures of these lovelies the next time I'm stuck in traffic.

Jack Frost is a Douchebag

Time: 17 minutes

Mileage: 707

So the question I've been asked the most recently is - "Hey, its getting cold.  When are you going to stop riding your scooter to work?".  And the truth is, I don't really have an answer just yet.

The pride part of me wants to think that I'll be able to ride it all winter long, but I'm sure I'll have to take a couple days off if there is snow on the ground at least.  I can say definitively that as of right now, the temperature still has a ways to fall before I put the scooter away for the winter.

I forgot to wear my gloves this morning, however - that was a bit unpleasant.

Mmmmmm

...I mean, that just kind of speaks for itself, doesn't it?

Reason #5,231 that my girlfriend is the best person in the entire world (tm): She's bringing over Arby's tonight for us to dine on.  

Yeah, that's right...a roast beef and cheddar is on its way to my doorstep, delivered by a beautiful woman.  Curly fries may come into the picture at some point in the evening.

I'd break out the good china, but I'm afraid the horsey sauce might stick.

Not Exactly What I Need Right Now

Time: Forgot to keep track, but I got to work before 8

Mileage: 682

Go Angels!  Ah?  Ah?  Anybody?  That game was fantastic last night, even though K-Rod's 9th inning...dramatics...drove me absolutely up the wall.  I mean, dude completely falls off the mound and crumples to the ground whenever he throws a breaking ball or his Fossum Flop or whatever got people out during the regular season.  Thats all well and good when he's striking people out, but when he can't finish the deal on an 0 and 2 count and stupid, stupid Kevin Youklis is battling it out with him, the whole falling down thing just looks dumb.

The most satisfying part of the evening, for me, was watching David Ortiz be pretty much useless all night long.  I can't tell you how many times that guy has broken my heart, and to see him whiff with a runner on in the 5th (or whenever) was the undisputed highlight of my Sunday. 

Sorry, babe.  Love you!

Anyway, onto the subject of the blog, which has to do with the health of my scooter.  It has an electric start, but lately when I hit it, instead of the starter catching and the thing roaring to life, I just hear the sound of what I assume to be the starter whirring.  And nothing happens.  And then I try again, and the same thing happens.  So the next part is that I try a whole bunch of variables out, such as rocking the scooter back and forth, holding the brakes tighter, revving the engine while I hit the starter, rocking the scooter back and forth, cursing, stopping, catching my breath, hitting it again, cursing, rocking the scooter back and forth...

And then it will just start.  I have no idea what is causing this, but it is irritating the shit out of me.  Also of note: it only does it when I try to start it cold.  If the engine is warm, it doesn't happen.

Well?  Anybody?  Suggestions?

I Can't Even Follow My Own Rules

Well, this certainly didn't take very long - a post not at all related to scooters or Baltimore or streets or anything that I said I'd talk about.

This is all about how frustrating the baseball post-season has been for me for the past couple of years. I'm sitting here watching the red sox lead the Angels 5-3 in the 7th inning in game 2. I know what will happen, though...even if the Angels manage a rally, fucking David Ortiz or that perdroida guy will put the sox back in the lead and then papelfuck will come out and do his little jig and the red sox will win again.

If its not the red sox, its the yankees. And what's more, baseball, the hideous bitch-goddess that it is, has gone so far as to not only torment me by having the red sox and the yankees always win, it sees to it that any team that I have so much as a minute rooting interest in will lose, in spectacular fashion.

The Cubs, this year.
The Angels, this year. (Admittedly, this is because they are pitted against the red sox again in the first round)
The Brewers, this year.
The Diamondbacks, last year.
The Twins, last year.
The Padres, last year.
The Mets, last year.

I will readily admit that the TBRays are an exception this year so far, but keep in mind that this is only the second game of the Divisional Series - they still have plenty of time to lose, eventually, to the red sox.

Oh yeah, and since I'm bitching about the post-season, Frank Caliendo has officially worn out his welcome. That McCain impression is fucking terrible.

Every. Single. One.

Time:  No idea, maybe 27 minutes?

Mileage: 650.9

Today I hit every single red light between home and work.  I mean every one.  Take a look at the map, and count the number of intersections you see, and multiply by 25, and that's how many red lights I hit this morning.

Its very strange, but I can always tell how annoying my commute is going to be by the time I turn onto MLK.  If I have to stop and wait for the medical students to cross the street, and the right-hand lane is backed up through two lights, its going to be rough.

I did get to pull one of my favorite scooter  moves, however - at the end of MLK there was  a backup due to two double-length buses basically running a red light, turning left, and blocking the entire intersection.  Its unbelievable the balls on these MTA bus drivers - they will back up traffic for two miles if it means them getting through a light on time.  

Anyway, I was about two cars back from the intersection, we hadn't moved, and the light was turning yellow.  So I squeezed in between the curb and the two cars in front of me and scooted on through the intersection.  Now, before you say what I know you're going to say, let me tell you that I know how hypocritical I am even while I'm doing this.  If I was waiting for the light and some punk kid on a scooter buzzed by me on the right, I would be enraged.  I might even try to pull to the right a bit to cut him off.  But that's one of the beautiful things about being on a scooter - a. you can get away with it, and b. fuck it.

I know one of these days I'll piss the wrong person off and they'll get out of their car and break my scooter in half and give me a really bad indian burn or something, but man - its fun to do.

The Start of Something Big

Hi all.  Welcome to my bloggish thing.  For anyone who is reading this post as it actually appears on the first day of this blog, October 3, 2008, I congratulate you on being a piece of history.  A really, r

eally, really small and categorized part of history really pertaining to no one but me, but a piece of history anyway.  For those of you who are reading this to find out why this blog exists, welcome...I guess.

What this is all about:  I'm going to attempt to write a daily recap of my adventures riding my 50cc scooter to and from work each day.  I have no idea how well this is going to work, or turn out, or whether or not it will be interesting to anyone but me - I suspect it probably won't.  But writing about my mishaps on the road is really only part of why I'm doing this blog.  In reality, I need an excuse to write.  I used to write all the time when I was in school, and now, outside of e-mails, status reports, and client proposals, I don't have any time (at least that's what I tell myself) to actually just write.  

So, I'm not simply doing this blog to tell you how many people cut me off each day, but rather as an exercise to get myself to write.  Call me selfish - I am! 

Who I am:  I'm a 26 year-old who works for an audiovisual company in Baltimore, MD.  I love the Baltimore Orioles.  I

 play guitar in two bands.  But enough about me - lets get to the real star of the show...

This here is my Genuine Roughhouse R50 scooter that I purchased all the way back in July of 2008.  Okay, well its not mine, that's the official promo shot of the scooter, but you get the idea.  

Isn't it the ugliest damn thing in the world?

There is absolutely nothing that endeared me to this model when I went to buy my scooter.  I wanted a Buddy, which is a knock-off of a Vespa, one of those classic-looking scooters that all the Mods used to ride back in England when the Who kicked ass and before the Kinks started getting lame.  This was literally the last scooter that they had in the 50cc range.  Here in Maryland, you can have a scooter up to 50cc without having to get it registered, or having to get a motorcycle license.  Obviously, I wanted a 50cc scooter.

But so does everyone else in the world these days, so I had to take what I could get.  The guy at the dealership said they weren't getting a shipment of Buddies in for another two months at the earliest and they had all been sold already.  But, he said in his salesman-like way, this here ugly-ass thing with headlights that look like Frank from Donnie Darko and a split-pea soup paint job, has the same engine as the Buddy, with more storage space, larger tires, and bigger shocks.

SOLD!  To the impulsive idiot on the left.

So I got the ugly thing and headed home, and have absolutely fallen in love with it ever since.  It no longer seems ugly to me - it has character.  It gets me everywhere I need to go in the city quickly, I can keep up with even crazy Baltimore traffic, I can park anywhere I want, and best of all, I get 90 MPG.  So nyah.

Every day I ride my scooter to work about 5 miles along this route:

View Larger Map

I suspect that at some point I'll give you some details about different sections of the route, but suffice it to say that it is pretty varied - it goes from a four-lane road to one-way streets to driving under bridges and beside a pretty creek.  I'm pretty lucky in that regard, and it certainly has made my commute a hell of a lot more bearable.

So that's that - I hope to update this daily, but I probably won't.  Like most things I do, I thought of this on the way to work, I'll be really into it for about two weeks or so, and then I'll trail off and eventually forget about it.  So you have that to look forward to.