So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

Note: This column appears in the 10/1 issue of The Glendale Star and the 10/2 issue of the Peoria Times How fresh is the fish? This is the question my wife asked to our server during our first night out together in forever, by Westgate, at an establishment that shall remain nameless to protect the identity of the incompetent. We had waited about twenty minutes to ask this question, and were only graced with our waitress’ presence after she had apparently lost an argument with another server as to who was going to wait on our table, an ordeal that I was fortunate enough to capture out of the corner of my eye. As a result, she was forced to introduce herself, and did so thusly, with eyes to the ground and speaking quickly and softly so as to add to the general awkwardness: Hi my name is (unintelligible) and I’ll be your waitress do you know what you want? No, miss –- the pleasure is all ours, I assure you! It was at this point when my wife asked the aforementioned question. Now, this is ...

Kevin Maas, 1991 Waldo Candies If you are thrown off by the bright solid red background, or the not-so-subtle mentioning of Waldo Candies, then I would like to divert your attention to the bottom of this card, where we discover that the Waldo Candies Ball Player featured here is none other than “Maas,” who, as we all know, plays for the New York American. Please do not tell me you are still confused. You are? Well then, allow Waldo Candies to elaborate, using their popular 1920s-style Old English and lingo: Kevin Maas, designated hitter and first baseman of the New York American League Team, was born in Castro Valley, California, January 20, 1965. Kevinthal Roberto Maas, designated hitter of baseballs and occasional caretaker of the initial base for the New York squadron of the American League subsect of Major League Baseball and its subsidiaries, was born in the Valley of Castro within the Republic State of California to Maria Beverly Rosenberg and Donald Carlito Maas -– son of Zachar...

Note: This column appears in the 9/24 issue of The Glendale Star and the 9/25 issue of the Peoria Times It has been a difficult time for those who prefer answers. Virtually every major attraction and potential attraction of this part of the Valley has been dragged through the legal mud and has yet to be adequately cleansed. As a result, those in and around the Valley who initially took a side now no longer care, or have joined the third party of “getting this over with.” We can start with the Phoenix Coyotes , an ordeal that began in early May and has left the city of Glendale, its citizens, Coyotes’ fans, players, millionaire coaches and billionaire Canadians in limbo. And while judge Redfield T Baum issued his decision last week, it should be noted that even he has acknowledged that this is far from over, having said this before beginning the excruciating process of writing down his answer: “I have to write it sufficiently enough so that those of you who don’t like what I write, whe...

Astros Leaders, 1987 Topps Leading the 1987 Houston Astros was Yogi Berra and his band of merry, old men, of which Yogi was arguably the merriest, and definitely the oldest. While it would be safe to assume from this baseball card that Yogi Berra was the manager of the 1987 Houston Astros, that would be an unsafe and stupid assumption, because Yogi Berra was not the manager of the 1987 Houston Astros. He was the bench coach. For further explanation as to how –- and in what specific statistical categories –- a bench coach can lead his team, let us turn over the back of the card: Noticeably absent from this list of team leaders is Yogi Berra. Allow me to relay my confusion as to why, on the front of the card which is titled “Team Leaders,” there is a dream sequence picture of Yogi Berra among several other dudes who have formed a force field of old, white, nondescript baseball knowledge around him, while on the back of the card, which is titled “Houston Astros 1986 Team Leaders,” there e...

Note: This column appears in the 9/17 issue of The Glendale Star and the 9/18 issue of the Peoria Times Last Tuesday, Barack Obama, the President of the United States of America, spoke openly and publicly to the nation’s schoolchildren. The Deer Valley and Peoria Unified school districts, in a wonderful display of caving to the illogical paranoia of a select few, ensured that not every child would see it. It was national news heading up to the speech that parents were concerned that Obama would use this as an opportunity to push his political agenda. Ya’ know, to clamor for that elusive 13-year old vote in the 2012 election, and to impose socialist values upon children who may not otherwise be able to define socialism. Much of the fear stemmed from the phrase “help the president,” which some people believed continued: “…convince everyone of this healthcare plan, and that abortion isn't so bad.” I had hoped this particular area of the country would see through the paranoia, and be ...

Royals Future Stars, 1980 Topps Let us travel back in time…to the future! The year is 1980, and what the future holds for the Kansas City Royals is the untapped and limitless potential of three pitchers poised for stardom. Going from right-to-left, we will use futuristic hindsight and stale sarcasm to determine how each pitcher reached his respective level of fame. Dan Quisenberry (rest in peace) -– contrary to what this card may attest -– was not considered a future star by the Kansas City Royals. At least not according to Wikipedia , and those guys are never wrong: Quisenberry signed with the Royals as an amateur free agent in 1975, and was considered a marginal prospect. Quisenberry would drop his marginal status in 1980 and attain future stardom. He then went on to attain actual stardom due to the fact that he was a pretty awesome pitcher and one of the more dominant closers of the 80’s. So far, we are 1-for-1. I am having fun. For Bill Paschall, what the future held was arguably t...

Note: This column appears in the 9/10 issue of The Glendale Star and the 9/11 issue of the Peoria Times Last Friday my wife dropped our foster daughter off at daycare, only to discover that the previous day, she had spit at her teacher. I’ll let that one sink in for a minute. Believe me it took a while for it to sink in with me. The first thought that came to my mind was when “Pumpkin” spit at “New York” in the first season of Flavor of Love, and so I immediately saw our foster daughter as a future reality show contestant where she competes for the affection of the hype-man of a formerly great rap group. Is any of this making sense? No? I am sorry. Now, this may not be that much of a surprise to you, the average reader. A foster child exhibited questionable behavior? Alert the authorities. But this is most certainly a shock to anyone who knows my wife or I. Especially my wife. Because let me tell you something: Had our little one attempted her loogie technique within 50 yards of us, I...

Turk Wendell, 1993 Upper Deck Turk Wendell –- seen here exerting the kind of extracurricular energy that was lost on ol’ Heavy Legs Pavano -– was an interesting chap: Famous for his odd behavior on the mound, Wendell also has talent. Wait -– he’s weird AND has talent??!! Just when you think you’ve seen everything ! Let us discover more about this odd, yet talented human being. Wikipedia , can you provide confirmation on this case of non-conformity? Wendell is probably best known for his baseball-related eccentricities. I knew it! Please elaborate: This included brushing his teeth in between innings, Ha, ha! Cuckoo, cuckoo! Seriously though –- that is pretty strange. Then again, I didn’t start brushing my own teeth regularly until I was like, 16. So at the time this card came out, I pretty much thought that any time spent brushing teeth other than the five minutes before you left the house to go to the dentist was weird. eating black licorice, And that is odd because…most people prefer...

Note: This column appears in the 9/3 issue of The Glendale Star and the 9/4 issue of the Peoria Times There is little doubt that many of our loyal readers have asked themselves this question since at least the dawn of the Internet, and possibly even before that: How do I express my love and affection for both The Glendale Star & Peoria Times in an online forum? Well, I have great news. We are on Facebook . For those unaware –- a lack of awareness that must be purely intentional, as this website has not so subtly taken over the free world –- Facebook is a social networking site. What does social networking mean? It means you can do stuff on the Internet at the same time as somebody else! Or at a different time. Social networking, ideally, can lead to marriage, divorce, a new job, a lost job, and tentative plans to meet in Vegas that never come to fruition. If you haven’t already raced to your computer to socially network, allow me to relate my own experience with Facebook. I joine...

Tim Salmon, 1996 Topps Profiles by Kirby Puckett series Some of you may recall that glorious time when Barry Larkin selected a handful of lucky players that he referred to as “ Little Dawgs ” because he did not know their actual names and who, as a result of being deemed Little Dawgs by shortstop Barry Larkin, became part of the unpopular Little Dawgs series of baseball cards. Those were great times, am I right? Of course I’m right. In that vein, today I present to you a card from the “Profiles by Kirby Puckett” series. Personally, I find these cards to be even more enjoyable if you say, “Profiles by Kirby Puckett” in the same “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy” voice used on SNL. But that’s just me. Before we continue, I’d like to say rest in peace to the late Kirby Puckett, who was a great player and one of the brightest stars from my heyday of baseball card collecting. The subject here is Tim Salmon. Let’s begin in the only way we know how: with “Kirby Puckett Insights:” I like Salmon as ...

Note: This column appears in the 8/27 issue of The Glendale Star and the 8/28 issue of the Peoria Times I had an interesting morning a couple of weeks ago. Would you like to hear about it? No? Well too bad. It was Wednesday morning and I was up at my usual time of whenever our seven-month old foster son decides to get up. So who knows…4:30am? I have not woken up with the sun in five months, so all I know is that it was dark. I embarked on my daily morning routine of bringing our foster son downstairs with our dog Mac happily following in my footsteps. I put the little guy down on the carpet so I could feed the dog. Then I let Mac outside so he could do his thing. As I approached our foster son and got ready to pick him up, what did I see resting on the nearby tile floor trying not to be noticed? Yes. A scorpion . So that was cool. A scorpion. In our house. Just feet away from a toddler. I celebrated this early morning surprise by smashing the scorpion to bits with my sandal. I smashed...

Heathcliff Slocumb, 1996 Topps Star Power series If you know anything about star power -– and I think that you do -– then you know that not only did Heathcliff Slocumb have it, but he also encompassed the ideals of star power better than any other baseball player in the history of the game. I mean, hey -– just look at all those stars! If you were a fan of the Philadelphia Phillies in the mid-90’s, then you went to the ballpark to see Heathcliff Slocumb, plain and simple. Sorry rest of the 1995 Phillies! Basically, you threw on your Heathcliff Slocumb jersey and went to the park hoping that he would be granted the opportunity to come out of the bullpen and save the game, so that you may bear witness to his star power and also his 1.51 WHIP. What’s that you say? For nostalgia’s sake you’d like to see a monthly breakdown of Heathcliff Slocumb’s 1995 season? Why sure: Interesting that they included “October” in that breakdown, and doubly interesting that Heathcliff Slocumb’s star power di...

Note: This column appears in the 8/20 issue of The Glendale Star and the 8/21 issue of the Peoria Times Ever since I could grow it, I have had facial hair. In one form or another. As a young teenager it was the wispy mustache and patchy beard. Later on it was the goatee. In college I rocked the thin-beard plus goatee combination, which I only now realize made me look like a rejected member of the Backstreet Boys. Besides appearing dangerously older to members of the opposite sex, another important attribute of this early facial hair was my increased ability to buy beer. To this day I sport the facial hair. Currently I am enjoying the beard that is not fully a beard, but more like a “third day on ‘Survivor’” beard. This look was popularized by Don Johnson and Bruce Willis in the 80s, so obviously I am up to date fashion-wise. The irony of it all is that this look is supposed to say, “Hey, I don’t care…shave, don’t shave, whatever, man,” but I actually have to trim it to keep it that way...

Scott Fletcher, 1987 Donruss Diamond Kings Scott Fletcher, what happened to your face? It looks like an old catcher’s mitt… When he wasn’t being recreated as a 60-year old man in watercolor form, Scott Fletcher was busy playing baseball in a mediocre fashion. Back of the card, elaborate: Scott Fletcher has developed into one of the steadiest I hate to jump all over this thing right out of the gate. Really, I do. But: “steadiest” = meaningless. and most productive shortstops in the AL. Well, okay, I guess. Considering that other shortstops in the American League in 1987 included this guy , and also this guy , then…yeah, whatever. But a “Diamond King?” Listen –- you can’t just name anyone a Diamond King. Not when, along with the prestige of the title of Diamond King comes the accompanying thrill of being the subject of such an artistic rendering, with a mini-you playing defense and all types of cool lines and graphics and stuff. This is serious. And no offense to Scott Fletcher –- well, ...

Note: This column appears in the 8/13 issue of The Glendale Star and the 8/14 issue of the Peoria Times Let’s say, hypothetically, that you are Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, and the artist formerly known as John Cougar Mellencamp. You are a combined 712 years old, but you are still jamming. You want to bring your brand of folksy-country-Americana music to the Valley, but you are not sure when, or where. So you consult your concert promoter, Jam Productions, who are, coincidentally, the same promotions company aligned with the Chicago White Sox. In turn, you agree to be the first musical act at Camelback Ranch, an outdoor venue and the spring training home of the White Sox and Dodgers. The date you choose is August 11th. At 5:30 pm. What could go wrong? If you are indeed, and not hypothetically, Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, and John Mellencamp, or one of the thousands of fans who bought tickets to see the show, what went wrong was that the show was canceled . Due to the heat. Considering that ...

While in San Francisco last week, my wife and I, after dinner, decided to go somewhere for dessert and coffee. For whatever reason, on this particular night, I was very much in the mood for dessert. I wanted one of those brownies with nuts and ice cream and caramel dripping from it. It’s called different things in different places, but I refer to it as a “brownie blast” because it is, and usually results in, a brownie blast. Luckily I found it on the menu of the place that we went to, which was just a diner. My wife was content ordering some kind of coconut cake thingee. So a few minutes later our desserts come out and they are just completely ridiculous. The ice cream on my brownie –- and by brownie I mean twelve brownies -– is stacked so high that I can no longer see my wife across the table. Her slice of coconut cake was not a slice, but a complete cake, one that a person might purchase at a bakery if he or she was going to a wedding and the bride had called beforehand and was like,...

Pascual Perez, 1989 Donruss Ahhh, the 80's. Where a guy like Pascual Perez could utilize his “Here Is What I’m Throwing –- Betcha Can’t Hit It” pitch, accompanied by a comical sneer, and still maintain a job in Major League Baseball. Nothing against the great singles hitters of 1989, but I am presently enjoying myself by imagining the result of this particular pitch meeting Albert Pujol’s bat. That was fun. Anyhoo, let’s find out more about Pascual Perez, shall we? I am going to pick a year off the top of my head and we will examine the statistics of Pascual Perez and then compare them to the rest of Major League Baseball during that year. Ya’ know, for fun! The year that I randomly selected is 1986: 1986 OUT OF ORGANIZED BASEBALL Bad choice on my part. Wikipedia , thoughts? Released by the Braves on April 1, 1986, he missed the entire 1986 season. So, he just…missed it? No injury? No minor leagues? No nothing? Bob : So, Pascual. Looks like you’...

Note: This column appears in the 8/6 issue of The Glendale Star and the 8/7 issue of the Peoria Times Two weeks ago our foster daughter woke up crying in the middle of the night yelling “I sick!” We took her temperature and it read 103.5. It wasn’t that surprising to us, as she had felt a little warm when we put her to bed that evening. Also, things had been progressing too healthily over the past few days for something like this not to happen. My wife and I compromised: she would stay home with her that day, but I was going to take her to the pediatrician’s office before work. This was obviously going to be a fantastic day. Because of the circumstances we could not go to our regular pediatrician, but we had been to this office before when our foster daughter had pink eye. I remember because it was like “Children of the Corn” in the waiting room, with kids walking around like zombies. Some were crying and others sat silent with breathing masks on. My only retreat from the horror was w...

Today we continue our randomly strung-together series breaking down "classic" songs that I am reminded of when I hear them somewhere and suddenly come to the realization that, "Wow, that song is stupid." Featured here is Bon Jovi's "I'll Be There For You." I left out a few lines and the mercilessly repeated chorus. Please enjoy. ------------------------------------------- You say this time you’re really leaving I heard your suitcase say goodbye Your suitcase did not like, literally, say goodbye. That would be crazy. I heard that freakin’ thing rolling all over my new Brazilian hardwood floors, and I was like, “Well, guess the bitch is leaving…again.” Well as my broken heart lies bleeding You say true love, it’s suicide True love is like suicide because after you’ve been a total jerk to someone that you apparently love for like, many years or something, inevitably your heart will fall out of your body as that person finally and justifiably decides ...

Okay. So his nickname was "Rich." Got it.