I'm leaving just in time...

..mt view is becoming alarming. Actually, it's kind of nice like this.  In a paralyzed-with-fear-if-I-get-too-near-the-window kind of way.

These are Jon's cats

Ghostface Killah, the darker; and Mullah.  They are attracted to me because I am allergic to them.  Cats are like women: if you disdain them, they suddenly get all interested... I miss Jon's old cat: Snooka.  A savage beast that would sneak out of the house to kill and terrorize the neighborhood. I doubt there were many small mammals within a half-mile radius. But friendly; one of the few cats I have known that would converse with you. Not like these haughty bitches.

Manasquan, NJ does not mince words

Maybe we should always have them put this on the marquis; it seemed to work. 

My nemesis again...

OK, for the first time since the fall of '08...

...my car has air-conditioning.  I'm too overcome with emotion to wax poetic. And I think I found an honest mechanic.  He basically had carte blanche to rip me off for a condenser and instead just replaced some relatively inexpensive electronic components and voila... Not even an arm and a leg. Not even an arm, even. Like...half a wrist...maybe. Maybe just a wrist-bone....

Dinner with Kate

All of the kids like corn. That's why we call them the Children of the Corn. Not really.  I mean, we really call them that, but not because they like corn...

Conclusion to things you don't care much about

OK, the American beats the Frenchman...pretty easy to tell who is who in this picture.  Final score:  five sets: 6-4, 3-6, 6-7, 7-6, 70-68; 11 hours and 5 minutes of tennis.  They were both beyond gracious at the end.  And lost-looking. I guess, no matter how painful the actual experience, when you finish doing the thing that is the odds-on favorite to be the most memorable moment of your career, it must leave you feeling a little bereft and weird.

Things you may not be interested in

I still play tennis from time to time and fondly recall my youth, when I would play 5 or even 6 sets in a day, being all full of youthful vim and vigor and quite possibly beer.  But I can only eke out a set or two at a time now. And I can't even imagine the physical and mental stresses these guys are going through. Amazing tennis match at Wimbledon. Continuing today: the THIRD day of the match. Most matches last 4 hours and a little more.  They played a single set all day yesterday, neither managing to win by two points. I'm going to watch the continuation now, tied as they are at 59 games. 59 games each. Astounding.

Since my car a/c has been on the fritz.....

...since before LAST summer, the heat is particularly grueling.  This is the inner me, lusting for cold weather once more.

In the Hoosegow at Nationals' Stadium

Here we see Nationals' fans behind bars, sentenced to yet another year of suckiness.   Been doin' Hard Time for a while.  Every time we think we're Up for Parole, the Lousy Screws turn on us and throw us back in the Hole to Rot. So we Sharpen our Shanks, and Scratch our Lonely Days off on the Wall, and....frankly I'm running out of prison metaphors and in danger of stretching the whole thing tragically thin. So I think I'll stop here. They lost, I guess is the point I'm trying to make. Alas.

Happy Father's Day, Pop!

Remember, tell Mom that -for this one day- you get to be in charge. For a minute. Until you screw something up....

At the Gaylord Hotel, National Harbor

Some people will do anything to get 'on' TV.....

The Official Company Position...

..is that the glass is half full. There are times when it is difficult to maintain that position...

Why do they call it the 'Hinckley' Hilton?

Because right at this little curved wall here is where all the Jodie Foster impressin' went on back in March of '81.  Just in the background you can see the bullet-proof carport they built afterward to ease the shuttling of the famous and bullet-worthy in and out of the largest hotel ballroom in DC.  Oddly enough, we died onstage tonight and not one Secret Service man leapt to our defense.

When you drive to the beautiful new Washington Harbor...

...a question that never fails to arise is: what the hell is this giant metal statue-thing guarding the entrance? Seems like a pack of color-blind drunken Irishmen erected this; or perhaps H.P. Lovecraft. 

By the way, my camera is refusing to send email, so I'm running on stored photos for the next couple of days. I had some great pictures of me getting tires yesterday along with some marvelous shots of fat people at Costco buying things to make them even MORE fat, but the photos are inextricably trapped in my camera. C'est la vie.

God starting to take way-overdue measures against christians...

The overzealous religious kooks in Monroe, OH have been dissed by the Supreme Maker. Having erected a laughable 6-story-tall paean to dim thinking, the very Being they revere hit them with a giant lightning bolt of irony and burned that sucker to the ground. Encore! Encore!
Before, during, and after pictures above....

Even worse at night

It's weird...it's really just this one specific bridge.  It's high in the middle --or looks that way anyway-- and going up it at night I have the sensation that I'm about to slide backwards down the slope of the bridge.  The fact that I'm aware that is completely impossible doesn't seem to matter to me.  But it gives me the willies. And I have you to blame, is that it, Mom?  I never used to get this feeling. Weird.

Drivin' to Jersey

Over my last few drives north, I have begun to feel the first, inexplicable sensations of phobia regarding the Delaware Memorial Bridge. Faint stirrings of uneasiness, that's all... Curious.

Birthday Tail courtesy Katarina

Kate rocks my day

Ain't she purty?

Happy Birthday to me

Out with the old...in with the new....

My beloved coffee pot (left) died a sudden electronic death this past week.  I mourned greatly; I have much love for my urn.  Fortunately, eBay helped me soothe my pain by providing me with a newer, barely-used, low-cost replacement (right).  Brew on, you crazy diamond!

Things you don't care about

..but I wish to store images of... Stephen Strassburg, rookie phenom of the Nats, debuted tonight. So far he has faced faced 10 batters, striking out 6, allowing only one hit.  Amazing.  I had a video of the first at-bat but my phone is grieving me and refusing to ackowledge it has videos stored on it. Videos that it content to let me watch....just not email. Grrr.     Anyway, absent that, this is his first strikeout in the majors. Against Lastings Millich, a former Nat, touchingly.

Had another show at the Gaylord tonight. That always makes me giggle....

Ladies and gentlemen....Richard Paul as Kim Jung Il

Kinda of dark...but so is Richard's Kim Jung Il.

Continuing unsettledness...

The Hilton Chain and Autofellatio

Judging from the giant statue in the lobby of the Hilton Columbus, this is something they actively encourage in their guests. I suppose if they can teach men to do this, they will never leave their rooms and subsequently the room service profits will soar.  Yet another activity my rotator cuff prohibits.

Please tell me you recorded the speech, Pops...

I wish I could have been there. Instead, stuck in Columbus...'equipment' problems. And a show tonight. Ugh.

This is how Dave Kane looks when I stupidly make the call time 20 minutes too early: disgruntled and mah-johnging on his i-pad. Oops.

Easton Hilton, Columbus, OH

About what you'd expect. Except, curiously, this is only side of the hotel that doesn't have four P.F. Chang's across the street. Seriously: there are 12 P.F. Chang's on this corner. If there is a God, he must like overpriced pacific-asian fusion cuisine.

This would be a bad time to take up sleepwalking...

...considering my balcony door doesn't lock.  I do have a golf club inserted as a bar, however.  Scary!*


* That I have a golf club, I mean....

Yikes!

Play (minor league) Ball!

Having been to the big, new major-league park in DC several times now, Kate, C, and I decided to visit the Potomac Nationals, the Single-A farm team of the Washington Nationals.  Single-A is the lowest of the minor leagues. If these guys do well, they'll get promoted to double-A ball; where if they do well they'll get moved up to the Triple-A minors; where, if they kick absolute ass, they might get a chance to advance to the Washington Nationals and find out what last place in the Bigs feels like.  All of which, sadly, is highly unlikely for these guys.

We start with a picture of Kate standing beneath a looming inflatable Uncle Slam, the highly amusing mascot of the Po Nats.  Minor league mascots are the best.  Uncle Slam is a creature of questionable provenance, imbued with a lazy energy that never moves faster than a mid-speed saunter.  He has George Washington hair put inexplicably into white dreadlocks, and can't seem to win a between-innings contest against a child no matter how young, flimsy, crippled, or droolingly incompetent the child may be. Uncle Slam is clearly a born loser.  I could have beaten those children in every single contest they put on. Easily.

Next a couple of shots to show just how close to the field you are at Pfitzner Stadium (or...The Fitz, as they call it), finishing with a picture of the unfortunate occupants of the minor league bullpen, who have to lurk basically almost in the crowd, which must be a drag sometimes.

Not a job I would care to have

...
They are replacing the balcony panels and derusting, repainting, resealing, etc. They'll get to mine next month, supposedly. It's a movie...CLICK!

You have to like a doctor's office with a giant tank of colorful tropical fish!