The Illuminated Donkey

Farewell, my beloved refineries. I need to be out of my swanky condo by the end of November, though I'd actually like to move around the 16th, if possible. I'm hoping to stay in Jersey City, though it's probably too much to ask for another apartment overlooking the Pulaski Skyway (sigh). Anyway, if anybody knows of any cool openings or situations, please drop me a line.

Scarlet Knights taking off their shoes and quietly sneaking out of the house... In his 2002 debut, Rutgers graduate and current Miami Dolphin Ray Lucas went 13-for-33 with four interceptions and a fumble in a 23-10 loss to the Bills.

"The way I played today was probably the worst a quarterback has ever played in the history of the NFL," Lucas said. "I don't think I've ever thrown four picks since I was born. I embarrassed myself. ... I probably won't sleep for the next three days."

Next up for Lucas: a visit to Green Bay with newly signed receiver Cris Carter.

Via Mike Whybark: Need a few extra bucks for upcoming holiday shopping? Don't feel like you're at the right point in your career? Or are you just looking to feel better about yourself and your life? Then put the amazing SalaryDoubler to work for you!

And now it's time for our latest edition of Our Nation's Sports Mascots in the War Against Terrorism! This episode comes to us from Joseph Lelyveld's "In Guantánamo," in the current New York Review of Books:

The fact is that [Guantánamo Bay holding camp] Camp Delta has become largely an Army Reserve and National Guard operation...with the called-up personnel changing every six months. [...] The major assigned to escort journalists was an actor from Queens, one of whose roles was at Shea stadium as Mr. Met, the prancing team mascot with a large baseball for a head and a goofy smile.

This has been another thrilling edition of Our Nation's Sports Mascots in the War Against Terrorism!

Cracking good news! Thanks to your friend and mine, Mike Whybark, I not only have news of Soccamatic, the first new Wallace and Gromit film in six long years, I can see it right here on my computer! For Free! God, this is a glorious time to be alive!

Cindy Chaffin, the lovely wife of official Friend of the Donk The Fat Guy, has started up two blogs at once, kind of a Guns N' Roses Use Your Illusion 1 & 2 sort of thing. The blogs are Pinky's Passion (the personal one) and TexasGigsDotCom (the music-specific one). We here at The Donk have always encouraged the spouses and significant others of our favorite bloggers to start up tell-all blogs, and this is a strong step in that direction! Yay, Cindy!

Scarlet Knights in the House!!! Rutgers graduate and all-around Swankmeister Ray Lucas will start at QB for the Dolphins for at least four weeks while Jay Fielder's broken thumb heals. I've pulled my old Ray Lucas #6 Jets jersey from out of the closet, and I'll be rooting hard for the fish at least through October.

Tony LaRussa: Genius. After watching a visibly tired (at least to me) Matt Morris put three straight men on base (two singles and a HBP) before giving up the game-tying sac fly to Barry Bonds in the bottom of the 8th, LaRussa leaves Morris in to bat with one out in the ninth. Morris, of course, struck out. In the bottom of the inning, Morris got the first two outs in the ninth before giving up two singles (including one to Holy-Crap-Is-He-Still-Around Player of the Year Shawon Dunston, who broke into the bigs as part of a Cubs infield that included Ron Cey and Leon Durham), then was relieved by Steve Kline, who threw a fat, game-losing pitch to Kenny Lofton.

The early Donk line on the series: Anaheim over San Francisco in six, though that may change once I actually sit down and think about it. My prediction is based on the idea that Anaheim will be better equipped to take advantage of the numerous opportunities that the Cards let slip away, plus the pitching looks stronger.

From Aaron Haspel's God in the Machine, which normally wastes time on such trivial topics as "Is Objectivism a Foreign Policy?" and "Hate Speech in Canada," comes an incredibly useful and supercool searchable baseball database with custom queries. It's a lot easier to use than it is for me to explain, but Aaron's search engine lets you find individual seasons or careers based on the criteria you enter, in any of several dozen categories.

For example, I discovered that Dan Quisenberry's 1985 season was the only time a pitcher appeared in more than 80 games while walking less than 20, and that Dale Long was the only player since 1950 to hit more than 10 triples without stealing a single base. I also discovered that Zolio Versailles, only two years removed from his MVP season, holds the dubious distinction of having the most AB's while still batting below the Mendoza line. The search engine also makes it easy to determine single-season or career leaders for any stat, and lets you sort the results by the player names or in statistical order.

There's a ton of fun stuff like that just there for the finding, so go take a look, and be sure to let me know if you discover anything cool.

A Poker Lesson. Blogger and poker player Paul Frankenstein writes in to ask when the proper time would be to draw to an inside straight (Also known as a gutshot, an inside straight draw has four cards to a straight with only one possible way to complete it; for example: 8-9-J-Q, with a Ten needed. This is as opposed to an open-ended draw, such as 6-7-8-9, where two cards can complete the straight.) Always glad to help out, Paul!

Now, I'm sure a number of you are jumping out of your chairs to scream Never! "Never draw to an inside straight" is a rule of thumb repeated countless times by crusty old barkeeps and wizened uncles, but its renown has long outlasted its accuracy. The truth is that it is often the correct move to draw to an inside straight, but only if the pot odds are correct.

Simply put, pot odds are the odds of making your hand in comparison to the amount of money in the pot. Like any type of gambling, the better odds you get, the more money you're likely to win. In nearly all casino games (the exceptions being blackjack with an advanced card-counting strategy and certain types of video poker with good jackpot systems), you are getting paid anywhere from slightly to far less than what your actual odds of winning are. In American roulette, your odds of picking a winning number are 1/38, but you would get paid out as if the odds were 1/36 (the difference between these two figures is why Las Vegas is so darn big and shiny).

How this works in poker is if you have, say, a 1/10 chance of getting the card you need (based on how many of the card remain in the deck — much easier in a game like stud where you see many of your opponents cards — as opposed to the total number of remaining cards), and there is already $150 in the pot, then it would make sense to call a $10 bet. Conversely, if there was only $50 in the pot, you wouldn't be getting correct odds and shouldn't call the bet.

The "never draw to an inside straight" rule dates back to an era of five-card draw and stud, where there would almost never be enough in the pot to justify the long odds of drawing to an inside straight; in today's more common games of Texas Hold `Em and seven-card stud, this is not always the case, and it can be profitable to draw to the forbidden inside straight. While actually being able to calculate these odds on the fly is pretty hard, you should keep this general idea in mind when determining whether or not to continue with a hand.

So good luck to you, Paul, except when you're playing me!

Update: here's a Card Player Magazine article about gutshots, with some Hold `Em examples.

I have a new theme song!

And a new promotional video!

Oh, dear Lord, no. Via Instapundit, it's a site featuring every single brain-numbingly dumb Hostess comic book ad, with commentary, interviews, parodies, and plenty of tasty, crime-foiling pies.

Somebody has apparently screwed the best damn blogger on the Upper West Side out of a cushy Hong Kong gig, so why not head on over to Paul Frankenstein Light Industries & Manufacturing and pick up a "Friends don't let friends blog drunk" or "I am a Z-List Blogger" item at a ridiculously reduced price? It's the perfect garment for your next blogbash, and he'll probably end up giving you your money back on a busted straight draw anyway!

Okay, I'm feeling a little better now.

More and more baseball. Via the Boy of Summer, a link to Only Baseball Matters, which is doing a running commentary on the NLCS games, and who led me to huge Twins fan Aaron Gleeman, who is doing the same thing for the AL on his baseball blog. (Note: the "huge" refers only to the amount of his Twins-fannedness; as far as I know he is of normal girth.)

Update: well, John at OBM didn't get enough hits to keep doing the commentary (something about a 14-month old daughter — where are your priorities, man?!). I hope you're all happy.

Thanks a frigging lot, Mike and Allan. Now I can't stop playing that scrambled word game Bookworm! I do have stuff to do, ya know.

Damning Evidence of Incompetence. Joel Mowbray analyzes the visa-application forms of 15 of the 19 September 11 terrorists and concludes that all of them should have been rejected.

On June 18, 2001, Abdulaziz Alomari filled out a simple, two-page application for a visa to come to the United States. Alomari was not exactly the ideal candidate for a visa. He claimed to be a student, though he left blank the space for the name and address of his school. He checked the box claiming he was married, yet he left blank the area where he should have put the name of his spouse. Although he claimed to be a student, he marked on his form that he would self-finance a two-month stay at the "JKK Whyndham Hotel" — and provided no proof, as required under law, that he could actually do so.

Despite the legal requirement that a visa applicant show strong roots in his home country (to give him or her a reason to come back from America), Alomari listed his home address as the "ALQUDOS HTL JED" (a hotel in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia). Alomari didn't even bother filling in the fields asking for his nationality and gender, apparently realizing that he didn't need to list much more than his name to get a visa to the United States. As it turns out, he didn't. He got his visa.

When he arrived in the United States, he connected with his friend, Mohammed Atta. And less than three months later — on September 11 — he and Atta helped crash American Airlines Flight 11 into the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

The National Review articles also features annotated copies of six of the forms.

In Salon, Keith Olbermann practically drools all over the screen reminiscing about the glorious madman that was pre-Torre George Steinbrenner (to recap: Houk-Virdon-Martin-Howser-Lemon-Martin-Howser-Michael-Lemon-Michael-King-Martin-Berra-Martin-Piniella-Martin-Piniella-Green-Dent-Merrill-Showalter), predicting — nay, praying — that a return of Evil George is already on its way.

Olbermann points out that the Yanks have lost two consecutive playoff series for the first time since 1980-81, adds a few in-house reports (George yelled at midlevel managers for not shaving well! He screamed "Jesus Christ Almighty!" — in Olbermann's presence!! — after watching Jeff Weaver get smacked around by Toronto in his first inning as a Yankee.), throws in every beloved memory of a quarter-century of George's craziness, and uses that to conclude that it's only a matter of time before GM Cashman and Torre are booted to the curb, replaced by Buck Showalter II.

The reasoning is actually pretty comical. Olbermann writes that while firing Torre would be too much of a PR disaster at this point, "the likeliest threat to Torre is a slow on-field start in 2003 (Steinbrenner used that excuse on Lemon in 1982, then promised never to do it again, then did it again to Yogi Berra in 1985)." Um...anybody want to make a little wager that Torre won't be fired even if the Yanks start off next year 6-8 like Lemon's team in 1982? Olbermann also wants us to think that Steinbrenner, even while getting fitted for yet another World Series ring, has been pining away for Buck Showlater, to the point where if the Mets start to show interest in Buck for their managerial opening, George might just go nuts.

Serious interest in Showalter from his hated cross-town rivals could be the nudge that pushes George to revisit his Robespierre days. Imagine your sexy ex suddenly dating your lifelong rival, or worse, your nerdy cousin. Whether it would be logical or suicidal, serious or fleeting, you might think of upping the ante and immediately proposing marriage. Remember, at all times, that George Steinbrenner is not the kind of man to sit around and act rationally when a situation calls for panic. He's the one in a million of us who wouldn't just think it; he'd pick up the phone and book the cathedral.

There's a whiff of sadness to the article, as though Olbermann can't help but remember a time when the fallout from a bad series loss like the Anaheim one would have provided him with a month of stories that wrote themselves, insane middle-of-the-night rantings from a man who changed his roster and managers like other men changed socks (I may have stolen that from Bill James, I can't remember). So on the rare occasions when the Yankees perform poorly, sportswriters look towards the front office, waiting for George's latest outburst, hoping that he'll trade Nick Johnson and Juan Rivera for Scitt Erickson then fire Torre and dig up Billy Martin. While I have to admit I'd enjoy seeing that, I also have to think that Steinbrenner may have noticed the unequaled success (on-field and in-wallet) he's enjoyed for the past seven seasons, and may not want to throw that all away what he may have done to Yogi Berra 17 years ago.

My head is a giant, red, stuffy balloon, blocking out the light of the sun, bringing sorrow and catastrophe to all those who dwell in this fourth-floor corner of the Brunswick Towers, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth could be heard on the Pulaski Skyway, even above the endless sirens and honking of horns.

In other words, I'm sick. And whiny.

Oh, Acme Hour on the Cartoon Network, you are truly my only friend at 4:30 in the morning.

I'm not saying that I feel this way (heck, I had tickets for last night's not-necessary Game 5), but as a service to those readers who may be so inclined, I present ESPN.com's Ten Greatest Moments in Yankee-Hating History.

The Death of Edgar Allan Poe: An account by Hervey Allen, August 1927.

[Poe] traveled by steamer to Baltimore and arrived there on September twentyninth. Exactly what happened to him in that city cannot now be ascertained. An election was in progress, and the preponderance of evidence points to the fact that he began to drink and fell into the hands of a gang of repeaters who probably gave him drugged liquor and voted him. On October third he was found by Dr. James E. Snodgrass, an old friend, in a horrible condition at a low tavern in Lombard Street. Summoning a relative of Poe, Dr. Snodgrass had the now unconscious and dying poet taken in a carriage to the Washington Hospital and put into the care of Dr. J. J. Moran, the resident physician. Several days of delirium ensued with only a few intervals of partial consciousness. He called repeatedly for one "Reynolds," and gave vent to every indication of utter despair. Finally on Sunday morning, October 7, 1849, "He became quiet and seemed to rest for a short time. Then, gently, moving his head, he said, 'Lord help my poor soul.'" As he had lived so he died — in great misery and tragedy.

Dammit, one of my favorite msites, Arts & Letters Daily, is disappearing into the ether.

Update: Or maybe it's just over here now, in an assuringly similar form, but with cool extras like polls!

I'm back from a lovely weekend up north to see the aforementioned and still extremely rocking Jason "Jake" Loewenstein (a bizarre, free show in a roomful of 19-year-old hippie Richie Riches and Mayda Munnies, the vast majority of whom had never heard of him but were still dancing up a storm) to find a comments box filled with lovely congratulations on my first anniversary. Gosh, thanks y'all. If any of you are in Jersey City stop by for some sharp cheddar and maple syrup.

[Speaking of my trip, I did discover that the Yaddo Artists' Sanctuary, which I had always imagined as a quiet, isolated outpost, is actually adjacent to both a major interstate and the Saratoga Springs racetrack.]

But on a more important note: I have already defeated puny upstarts Mike Whybark, Scott Chaffin, and Paul Frankenstein in Mike's newly formed World Blogger Federation, based on that hot new sensation, Googlefight. Who shall be the next victim! In the consolation round, Mike Whybark was soundly thrashed by a wet paper bag, though he did cover the spread.

Oh, and Justin Slotman is alive! Now, don't everybody rush over to Blogistan at once, or we'll frighten him into hiding again.

The Donk celebrates its first anniversary today! Ah, I look back on those first few posts...can it be that it was all so simple then, or has time rewritten every post? Sniff. In honor of those early days, I'm going to relink to the first site I ever linked to: yep, the traditional first-anniversary gift for a blog is a gaggle of monkeys!

Okay, everybody's already written about Stan Jones, the Montana Libertarian candidate for Senate who turned blue after taking collodial silver, but has anybody else noticed his sly attempt to draw attention away from his unusual skin tone by wearing a suit that exactly matches it?

This U.S. Has No Right to Invade Iraq, Canada Says

OTTAWA (Reuters) — Canada on Wednesday noticeably hardened its line against the idea of a unilateral U.S. strike on Iraq, saying Washington had no right to take action that could destabilize large parts of the world.

Ottawa — whose foreign policy is based on multilateral diplomacy — has consistently stressed the Iraq crisis should be handled through the United Nations and is showing increasing signs of alarm about the damage the world body could suffer.

Now, what could motivate Canada into taking such a hardline position against U.S. action? Could it be, as stated, a respect for the international community and a fear of repercussions? Perhaps the reason is more self-interested, with fears of what international instability could do to their oil exports. Or maybe, just maybe, a pair of Canadian heroes have their own fiendish plan for luring Saddam out of Iraq and facilitating a regime change!

He traveled with Walter Mondale and senior citizens still don't know his name! Courtesy of the Washington Post, Robert Torricelli's farewell tribute to himself.

Democrats Win N.J. Senate Case

Democratic Party hopes of retaining the seat of Sen. Robert Torricelli and control of the Senate got a boost Wednesday night when the New Jersey Supreme Court ruled unanimously that the state party can replace Torricelli on the Nov. 5 ballot with former Sen. Frank Lautenberg, even though the legal deadline passed two weeks ago.

[...] Democratic Party lawyer Angelo Genova told the justices that the Democrats were seeking to protect “voters’ right to participate in a competitive election” and asked the court to interpret state law broadly, despite the lapsed deadline.

Court Rules in Iowa Senate Race

DES MOINES, IA (AP) Citing New Jersey's precedent-setting "Competitive Balance" ruling of 2002, the Iowa Supreme Court today announced that Democratic Senate candidate Scott Scoglio, leading Republican Patty Moore by 15 points in recent polls, must reverse his long-standing support of the death penalty in order to "give Moore a fighting chance."

In the majority ruling, Chief Justice Zach Robinson wrote "Scoglio's 'tough-on-crime' stance has struck a chord with Iowa voters, leading to a race that has been, frankly, not that much fun. By instigating this shocking flipflop on a major issue, we're hoping to give Moore at least a seven-point boost in the polls." The ruling later went on to say that if Moore failed to close the gap over the next two weeks, Robinson would be required to appear on television with his arm around two convicted murderers and announce, "These are the kinds of fine fellows I'm trying to get back on the streets as soon as possible." Robinson is expected to appeal the decision.

This is the third recent application of the Competitive Balance ruling, following last month's ruling requiring Maine Democratic Congressional candidate Paul Silvera to wear ill-fitting suits, and the ongoing mandatory extra-marital affair of Nevada frontrunner Christine Woolley.

This month's award for the best of example of why you shouldn't snottily dismiss an all-time great in a magazine with a two-month lead-time: Andrew Corsello, in his terrible profile of Pete Sampras in this month's GQ, "Curse of the Succubus." (not available online, but I was able to find this lovely poem of the same name)

How sad it is for a tennis fan to write [...] about Sampras's glorious zonedness and notice only upon their completion how they gravitate towards the past tense. Sad but appropriate. For Sampras is not coming back. He may play another year or two, but he will not come close to winning another Grand Slam, and he will not break the top five.

The whole article is relentlessly awful, not too surprising for a subject that rarely inspires great writing. My personally favorite is David Foster Wallace's Esquire article "The String Theory," which I can't find online but is available in his universally discounted "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again."

I'm rested like Troy Percival. Well, I needed a few days away from the keyboard, enjoying the cultural treasures of Manhattan, the sunny skies and autumnal delights of New York State, and the Bacchanalian pleasures of Paul Frankenstein's stately pleasure dome. But I'm back now and ready to blog it up old school!

So let's get October (or Rocktober, as all the cool kids are calling it) started off right with a visit from our old favorite Juliette Aiyana, who you may remember from The Illuminated D'Lish celebration in this space two weeks back.

As I'm sure you'll remember, Jewels is a licensed acupuncturist who has studied Chinese dietary therapy. In the current Pulse of Oriental Medicine magazine, she enlightens us all on the many medicinal qualities of pumpkins, along with links to some recipes (including pie, though that was really last month's theme) for these crazy gourds. And if you just hate pumpkins, you can head out to the Punkin Chunkin World Championship and shoot them out of a big-ass cannon!

This month's theme: Bowling and Pie. And this weekend's Special Guest Blogger: Paul Frankenstein!

The girl behind the counter was busy not paying attention.

The boy tugged the man's sleeve and smiled.

The girl turned another page of her magazine.

It had to have come to this.

The man remembered that once, the alleys had stretched as far as the eye could see. Rolling forever, amber waves of hardwood, polyethylene balls, proud white pins. And now they were underground.

"Yeah, 9 1/2. And a pair in 6."

The girl -- her hair pinned up, a retro look -- got the shoes. The boy thought she looked like one of those women in old-time magazines.

They put their shoes on. The boy had trouble picking up the ball. It banged on the floor. The other players looked around. Someone laughed nervously.

The man had forgotten how heavy the balls were.

It rolled down the lane; slowly, ponderously, as if it had all the time in the world.

The man watched it. It thudded into the gutter and rolled harmlessly past the pins.

"It's OK. We can do it again."

The boy smiled again, and picked up another ball. He put it back. He waited for the first ball to come back on the return.

Sirens suddenly sounded outside. Everyone inside froze. Then the sirens faded away to the accompaniment of squealing tires. The tension inside eased.

The girl slid back on to her stool. She watched the man and the boy. It looked like it had been a long time for the man.

The boy pushed the ball down the alley again.

The man thought back. Cotton candy days. Maybe he could have made the girl. Maybe. That was a long time ago. Days of cakes and balloons and ribbons. Those were, those were.

The ball rolled down the lane again, but with more purpose this time. The boy stood at the end of the lane, watching it, eyes wide. It hit the three pins at the right end.

It was coming back for the man. That was the six pin, and that was the 10 pin, and that must be the nine pin behind.

They high-fived. The girl looked at them. She thought that a piece of pie would be nice.

Yeah, I've been slacking, but I've been very busy this week with my incredibly active social life. Broadway shows, fancy dinners, bowling in bus stations...it's all just too darn much for one Donk, and I'm heading out the door again, this time to have lunch with Jahna D'Lish and friends. It hasn't all been uneducational fooferall, as this week I did learn the important news that if for some reason you need to see Madison Square Garden completely surrounded by limos and dickweeds, you should hang out there at 11 the next time the Rolling Stones play there. Basically, if any other bloggers or readers out there want to contribute a Frankenstein-like guest article for the weekend, now would be a great time to do it. This month's theme at The Donk is bowling. Or maybe pie.

Also, I notice that a ton of great blogs still have their Blogger banner ads at the top of the page. Remember, if there's one of these on a blog you like, you can spend a measly 12 bucks to have it removed. It's a good cause, it improves the blog, and that blogger will love you until the end of time. Click here for more details.

Blogorama.

• On the Frankenblog, special guest The Fish writes at length about processed cheese, relationships, and their strange unification in her ex-boyfriend D.
• While meanwhile, on her own blog, The Fish writes about dizzying relationships, dizzying relationships, and their unification in the dizzying J. (Um, The Fish, here's a little advice from The Donk: only go out with guys with full names! These initially folks are nothing but trouble!
• Congratulations to Bazima of The Bazima Chronicles, named the Best Blog in the esteemed New York Press "Best of Manhattan 2002" roundup.
• If I could sponsor it twice I would: Girls Are Pretty has moved to its own URL and continues to both kick ass and stay pretty. Oh dear, it's good.
• Hey, did I mention just how darn good a baseball blog Travis Nelson has? Seriously, every day, just a pile of good stuff. Go there now.

The Sopranos question was okay, but refusing to let her perform her talent until she revealed Hoffa's whereabouts was a bit much.

Miss New Jersey Condemns "Sopranos" Question

A Miss America pageant judge was wrong to ask Miss New Jersey about her views on "The Sopranos," the contestant and some Italian-American groups said.

The judge asked Alicia Renee Luciano what she thought about the show during an interview segment of Saturday night's pageant in Atlantic City. Luciano, 19, answered that people shouldn't take television shows seriously, and that good parenting should offset violence on TV.

"It was a question that I don't think they would ask of anyone, other than someone with my background," she told The Daily Record of Parsippany for Tuesday's editions. The Byram resident is believed to be the first Italian-American to represent New Jersey in the pageant. "I wasn't expecting that," Luciano said. "Everyone else was getting questions about how they felt about performance dance and the arts." Several Italian-American groups agreed, calling the question insensitive and insulting. Miss America officials did not immediately return a message left at their office early Tuesday.

You know, I need a freaking break.

I just saw Bob and David! It was pretty darn funny!

(Yeah, that's it. What do you think this is: Blogcritics?)

I'm off to see Bob and David!

Mike Whybark, a fine writer and a better man, has spent the last week sharing memories of his sister and of the horrible events of September 1988. It starts here and can be followed using the arrows at the top of the page. It has our highest recommendation.

Paul Frankenstein was kind enough to direct me to Travis Nelson, the Boy of Summer, probably the best baseball blog I've seen so far, though Travis does link to a bunch of other fine ones. From the BoS I learned that Brewer Jose Hernandez is only two K's away from Bobby Bonds' single-season record (though he has been wuss-benched for four straight games to avoid breaking the record at home), plus the truth about the Tom Gamboa beating that baseball doesn't want you to know!

Speaking of baseball, I've decided that the Mariners of the last eight or so seasons, a team that has boasted at various times such stars as Ken Griffey, Jr., Randy Johnson, Alex Rodriguez, Ichiro, and Edgar Martinez, and has made four playoff appearances without winning a pennant, may have supplanted the Aaron/Mathews/Spahn Milwaukee Braves as baseball's most underachieving team. I think only the fact that they've never won anything is preventing people from realizing that they probably should have.

Oh, and I ordered Yankees playoff tickets and had the distinct and rare pleasure of somehow paying more in shipping fees, convenience charges, and a "building facility charge" than for the tickets themselves! If you're scoring at home, I paid $58 for two $12 bleacher seats for the opening round. Now, my question: is the somewhat snaky-looking "building facility charge" a way for teams to get out of paying a full share of gate receipts to visiting teams?

(via Capital Influx and Christine) Thinking of moving to Europe? Choose your country wisely! Would you rather live in, say, Germany?

BERLIN (Reuters) - Germans mulling joining the army may think twice now thanks to a new regulation banning soldiers from having sex while in active service. The Defense Ministry said on Friday it had issued a decree stating that sleeping with fellow soldiers of either sex, or indeed their partners, would be bad for morale, threatening "mutual trust and soldiers' willingness to help each other."

Women soldiers will also have to take down their favorite pin-ups, as one clause, expressly formulated to include both men and women, prohibits them from hanging up pornographic images that might offend others.

Or Sweden?

A politician running for a seat in Sweden's parliament has called for pornography to be broadcast on television all-day every Saturday to help boost the population, and thereby the economy.

Teres Kirpikli, a Christian Democratic Party candidate, says pornography is the best way to get couples to have more sex and procreate. She wants erotica and porn on television every Saturday, all day, so people would feel like having more sex.

You make the call!

InstaPundit links to more evidence of "dropped balls at the FBI." Hmm...unlike Glenn I think that this would be a good thing since, if my high school health teacher was correct, it means that the FBI has finally reached puberty!

Thank you, I'm here all week!

Sheesh! Well, I'm still sitting in this stupid chair, staring at this stupid shipping manual (okay, I snuck out for a few hours yesterday to visit the quite interesting Lower East Side Tenement Museum, where I was called upon to help explain both Jewish burial rituals and cupping, followed by dinner and drinks with some kickass friends, including a rare visit from New York Gabe Vecchi...but other than that I've been working nonstop...um...except for doing this).

Anyway, Friday's Big Apple Blog Bash may have the best one yet, with more damned attractive folks, more pints of beer, and perhaps fewer drunken fistfights than any previous Blog Bash. I've created a special links section over there to your left to let anybody who couldn't make it play the home version of Blog Bash. Just open up a dozen windows with each of the blogs in its own window. Then, drink a couple of beers, spin around a few times, and read them all simultaneously. Oh, and always: if I met you on Friday and somehow didn't list your blog, that just means that I hate you.

Update: Paul has posted photos that were taken with his snazzy new camera!