Author Archive for M. Toole
Bad rosin bags blamed for losses
(Denver) Decomposed, often spoiled rosin bags handled by the Colorado Rockies’ relief staff are being blamed for a string of blown saves at Coors Field.
The bags, filled with powdered resin from pine trees, are designed to enhance a pitcher’s performance while on the mound. However, according to baseball experts “the employment of rancid or bad rosin can have adverse effects causing inconsistencies, lack of concentration and general wildness on the part of otherwise stable hurlers.”
The problem, says the front office “is particularly acute in the later innings when relief pitchers are most active especially when afternoon heat or evening shadows come into play.”
Officials within the Rockies’ organization have been searching for some explanation as to poor pitching performances of late which have all but taken the club out of contention. Plans to secure new rosin bags are in the works but with plummeting attendance figures and a demanding payroll it will be weeks before they can be secured. Selling advertising space on the bases and charging extra for mustard at the hot dog stand has been discouraged by the league and can’t relied upon to provide new revenues.
Asked why the presence of bad rosin bags has not resulted in a breakdown in opposing bullpens, a Rockies’ spokesman said he was looking into that.
“Maybe they bring their own,” he said, “or load up the ball with chew or some other controlled substance when the umpire isn’t looking.” – Signelle de Bushe
Isn’t Life Grand
With Rufus Maxwell
BIRD DROPPINGS – LOOK OUT BELOW!
With all those birds up in the sky it’s really surprising how seldom a human pedestrian gets nailed on the head or the shoulders with pasty, white bird poop. The gravity-based, new math on the subject clearly dictates that a serious number of direct hits would ultimately occur non-stop, all-day, especially at (bird) feeding times. Remaining residue common to initial research clearly indicates that a raindrop effect would emerge, wherein the moist barrage would be persistent, direct and almost continual.
The simple equation would then have to be: More birds up there = more poop down here. Now, ask three of your friends, “When was the last time you were hit by bird droppings? I’ll bet none of them can remember even one such incident. How can this be?
It only stands to reason that if x amount of poop is dropped from x amount of bird asses then x amount of the said white stuff would land on the ground. Birds can let go while in the air or in a tree but are said to prefer a quiet, restful place.
Are the birds aware that there are innocent people down below? They always seem so self-absorbed, fluttering their feathers, squawking, pecking at knits and parasites. Is it difficult to aim and execute while steering? Maybe they are elitists. Maybe they just don’t give a damn.
Are the inevitable drops some sort of a message? Are there common elements at play in these attacks? Do they exhibit anti-social tendencies? Are there indications of coordinated planning? Just how deep does this doo-doo go?
Nobody knows how many birds are flying above his head at a given locale or specific time of the day. It does not help to look up. Likewise it is impossible to count all of the birds in the trees, on the roofs of houses & barns, eclectic wires, bridges, fences, sunny lofts, shady perches, hanging feeders, neon signs and upstairs patios. Even if one succeeded in counting all of these birds he could still find a sticky sample his hat or a little white surprise on his shoulder.
Moreover when one considers that birds spend the whole day eating seeds, insects, buds, leaves and twigs he must face the fact that the waste matter remaining must go somewhere. It is expelled and lands where it lands.The math alone would dictate more direct hits, which could lead to tasteless jokes and betting schemes similar to turkey bingo.
“We should learn from this research,” said one professor of body chemistry at WSCU, “and never go outside.”
Other more progressive voices call for calm and say that the eco-system is working for now.
“What’s the big deal?” said the source. “On an average day we probably step in a whole lot more than a little bird crap. Most birds are small but viewing a large hawk or eagle does give one a different perspective.”
– Fred Zeppelin
Isn’t life Grand is an op-ed where witless, stupid fears and opinions replace witless, stupid, cartoon news.
Rocky Mountain Mammaries
Flunking real estate test lead to life of crime for Butch Cassidy
The 1880s in San Miguel County offered few employment options. One could work the mines, teach school or engage in some level of ranching. All were low paying, backbreaking endeavors. It’s not like that around here any more since residents can now work in the ski industry, hump tables or drive tourist buses around in circles. Opportunity and the lack of it has always forced people to look elsewhere for their living…geographically and by jumping into new careers for survival.
Back in those days, when people like Butch Cassidy roamed the badlands and prowled the streets, there was an immediacy resting on one’s shoulder and a thin line between right and wrong. A feeling that if a person did not succeed today his chances may dwindle, even vanish. One had to strike when the iron was hot or make hay while the sun shone.
Such was the reality. Frustrated by the economics of boom and bust and prices dictated by the powers back east, Cassidy, going by the name of Pull Newman, had studied day and night for the real estate exam. He had digested the terminology, the math, the code of ethics and, despite the fact that he read at a fourth grade level, he and other members of the Wild Bunch were sure he’s get his license and could terminate his fledgling life of crime.
“Butch would have been a welcome addition to the emerging real estate community,” said Kid Curry, once the proprietor of Calcutta’s Beef and Jigger, a popular Indian spot near Dallas Divide. “He followed a strict, if tweaked, sense of morality and never faltered from it or backed down from a fight.”
Another associate of the would-be outlaw, The Sundrenched Kid agreed.
“We planned to list the Hole in the Wall over in Utah with Butch as soon as he passed the test,” he explained. “It made sense to jack the price about 40% with all the traffic from the east. Besides, the existing realtors could not even find the place with a map. How would they ever show it?”
As the big day came Butch, who had been a serious student for the past two months showed up with his #2 pencils and lunch. The food was the high point of the day. Halfway through an eggplant sandwich he realized his goose was cooked. The exam got away from him like a greasy breakfast after a night in the bottle. Butch just sat there afraid to be the first one finished. He didn’t know any of the answers. What good had all the studying done when they asked the wrong questions? He scored as well as a a wounded jackrabbit playing blind man’s bluff with a pack of hungry coyotes. He went to the bar.
He whined to the bartender and anyone else in ear shot. He drank shots.
“Butch was not the type to talk about his problems which made me worry about him,” said Curry who had wandered into the same bar that afternoon. “He was normally so upbeat. He always had a plan.”
The two shared a few more drinks and then Curry voiced his current dilemma: He was losing his shorts at the Calcutta with all of the new entrepreneurs coming to town. The pie was sliced in too many pieces for anyone to profit and Curry did not have pockets deep enough to wait out this recent economic quagmire.
“Butch, have you ever thought about robbing a bank?” he asked Cassidy as the second bottle of whiskey arrived.
“No, but it can’t be that difficult,” he smiled.
It was then that the two gunmen started to talk about banking and gold and silver. When they stumbled out of the bar the gas lights of the Telluride Bank still burned. It was then that the plot was hatched.
“We’ll need a little more help and we can pull this off,” said Butch. “And to think I was going to go straight and play the puppet to all the rich who have no more right to the bank deposits than I do.”
After consulting with several colleagues the pair put the plan in motion. They would hit the bank early the next day then split up and meet at their prearranged hideout in Utah where they would divide the cash.
“If Butch would have just passed his damn real estate we would have saved a lot of misery and loss around here,” said Nora Pancake, the daughter of one of the bank tellers wounded during the crime spree.
“He might have been someone to admire instead of a cold-blooded outlaw and a bad example for others to follow.” – Ella Benedictine Rockefeller
WORDS ARE OUR FRIENDS
with Ella Benedictine Rockefeller
Can you define the following words?
1. GOOGOL: a.) Ten to the hundredth power; b.) To stare at someone stupidly; c.) A turncoat lieutenant in the service to Genghis Khan; d.) To purposely goose someone and later pretend the victim was one’s wife or husband.
2. ZONDA: a.) a small Japanese car; b.) The name of Dobbie Gillis’ girlfriend; c.) A hot wind of the Argentine pampas; d.) A cheese made from the pasteurized milk of a adolescent yak.
3. JEHU: a.) A Himalayan rope suspension bridge; b.) Someone who drives too fast; c.) A hayseed, a yahoo or someone from Hooterville; d.) The practice of eating dirt, gravel or yellow snow; e.) All of the above.
4. AGRESTIAN: a.) of the land; b.) A tribe inhabiting Northern Albania; c.) Growing wild in irrigation ditches; d.) Someone who is stupid but thinks he is way cool.
5. BUCKEEN: a.) A young man of lesser gentry aping the manners of the greater; an idle shabby young dandy (Irish); b.) Change for a Ten-spot in Wales; c.) Bad knees resulting from athletic abuse and unfortunate genetics; d.) The habit of jockeying back and forth on the potty in an fruitless attempt to relieve discomfort caused by Xiuhtecutli, the Aztec fire god.
Feds Confiscate Sticks and Stones
(Washington) Rogue elements within the FBI and the ATF are calling for the seizure of sticks and stones to discourage popular uprisings on the domestic front. Agents would collect the potential weapons, which are generally found lying around all over the ground, before they land in the wrong hands.
“We live in a time when nuclear terrorism is only a breath away,” said a proponent of the move. “We have banned assault rifles, limited the sale of handguns and, in more progressive domains, have outlawed fireworks. Despite our sterling efforts crime is up. We have a sacred duty to a tired, apathetic public to show these criminal elements that we mean business,” she stomped.
The national crackdown on sticks and stones will begin in the lightly populated Rocky Mountains, where unlimited supplies of the instruments of combat are highly accessible.
“The place is teeming with weapons,” said the supporter of this action. “We can implement our plan town by town without a lot of undue publicity.”
The citizenry has been warned to stay in their homes until the authorities manage to secure gravel pits and round up lumber fanatics who sell firewood. No curfew has been set although that possibility has been discussed and may be enacted Tuesday.
“As we speak, in remote forests and unassuming parking lots the seeds of violence are sown,” said the source. “Look at the rest of the world. Do you want to be like that?”
According to the proposed plan the stones would be used to build prisons and the sticks would be sold to resource-hungry Japan. – Rocky Flats
