Low turnout

We didn’t get as many trick-or-treaters as we did last year, so Rufus had an easier evening than I’d anticipated. He barked like a maniac everytime the doorbell rang, of course. I’d put his leash on him and open the door, at which point he’d invariably wag his tail and try to get all the kids to pet him or put their faces close enough for a good lick.

All in all, he had a better day than Jill Rappaport’s dog:

Fatty elbow and the end of dog-days

I had a sad experience on Monday night. Rufus has a hygroma or fatty tumor on the “elbow” of his left foreleg. Never having finished (or, in fact, started) veterinary school, I decided to take him down to the vet to get it checked out. Also, I wanted to get him weighed, because I think he’s put on a bit of weight, but I can’t really tell. (To cut to the chase: the vet thinks the “elbow bump” is nothing serious, Roo is 81.4 lbs., up 3 from May, and the assistant found a tick behind his ear.)

So we drove down for our 7:45 appointment. Rufus got to meet a couple of dogs in the lobby, and also got to sniff at the cardboard Pet Taxi box that was holding a foul-tempered 13-lb. cat. When the cat hissed and jumped inside the box, Roo almost had a heart attack. The rest of us laughed.

The offices were pretty warm so, since we had to wait for a while, I took Rufus out to parking lot to walk around. He was happy that they had a fake fire hydrant in their doggie-area. Back in the lobby, he was pretty well-behaved, although I think he wants to get a day job in reception, since he kept trying to get behind the desk.

[You may find the rest of this post pretty sad or depressing, so feel free to punt on it. If you want to read on, just click “more”.] Continue reading “Fatty elbow and the end of dog-days”

Jamie was a common name for a guy . . . in the 19th century

For some reason, I thought this card would be in black and white:

How long has Jamie been in the big leagues? To quote ESPN columnist Buster Olney,

The folks at the Elias Sports Bureau answered this question: Who are the youngest and oldest hitters he has faced? Tony Perez, born on May 14, 1942, is the oldest, and Justin Upton, born on Aug. 25, 1987, is the youngest. That’s a gap of 45 years, which is almost incomprehensible.

I saw Jamie pitch in Seattle in 2001. He was only 38; when the radar gun showed one of his pitches at 78 mph, fans started shouting, “Drug test him!”

Congrats on making your first World Series appearance, Moyer! Go Phils!

Update: Looks like Jamie might get some post-Series endorsements for Depends.

F*** You, You Whining F***: 10/25/08

I suppose a disproportionate number of these F*** You posts are going to come from the literary world. I just have a great deal of pissed-off with regards to people who think book publishing could be a utopian wonderworld if publishers would just stop caring about making money. Don’t get me wrong; a lot of money gets wasted and big publishers are hemmed in by a blockbuster mentality, but that said . . . well, let’s just leave it to the David Ulin, book editor at the L.A. Times:

What’s more likely [than mid-list authors getting low-balled in favor of hype-driven Big Deals], I think, is that publishers will scale back some of their higher-end advances, especially in regard to certain risky properties: books blown out of magazine stories, over-hyped first novels, multi-platform “synergies.” At least, I hope that’s what happens, because one of the worst trends in publishing — in culture in general — over the last decade or so has been its air of desperate frenzy, which far more than falling numbers tells you that an industry is in decline.

That is, faced with hard times and a declining global economy, book publishers are going to abandon their quick-hit strategy, and start promoting “serious” literary midlist authors whose books could take decades to catch on (if they ever do). Oh, and they won’t do this because it would make any sense to their management and ownership per se, but because that’s what I want to happen.

And this will work why? Oh, because our global economic tumult will make us all crave “serious” literature!

This, of course, may be the silver lining to our current economic contraction: No more will publishers or writers have time or money for ephemera. During the Great Depression, even popular literature got serious: The 1930s saw the birth of noir. As the money dries up, so too, one hopes, does the gadabout nature of literary culture, the breathless gossip, all the endless hue and cry.

I just hope they don’t let him review business and finance books.

Bonus: the writer refers to the “ridiculous (and ongoing) print-versus-Web non-controversy” despite the fact that he works at a newspaper that’s collapsing . . . because all of its readers have left for the Web!

There’s nothing wrong with you that I can’t fix. With my stats.

Possibly the greatest basketball-to-comics non sequitur ever, courtesy of ESPN’s NBA preview article on Houston Rockets GM Daryl Morey:

Morey grew up reading Bill James’ Baseball Abstract and later worked for the stats guru, but his geekier tendencies might actually have more to do with his boyhood love of comic book anti-heroes who cut against the grain, figures like Frank Miller’s Dark Knight. “In a league in which 30 teams are competing for one prize, you have to differentiate yourself somehow,” Morey says. “We chose analytics.”

What’s great is that this article is all about using calm, cool reasoning and “analytics” to explain the decision to trade for Ron Artest!

Bonus: Did I mention that the annual Virtual Memories NBA Preview will be posted on Tuesday morning, just in time for the debut of the 2008-2009 season? I just did!