Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Padres/Rangers Game 3 Pregame Preview: The Yu vs. Some Dude Named "Bass"
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Long time no talk!
Things you didn’t know about Koji Uehara, and bad poetry
Last night’s drubbing of the helpless Boston Red Sox by a score of 18-2 (Koji Uehara’s happen too frequently to count anymore…) was a thing of absolute beauty!
Well, except for that little appearance by the batting machine with sideburns with his infamous splitter that doesn’t split and world famous hanging fastball.
When Koji pitches, it’s like the first time you got dumped. Sure, in a few hours you won’t care anymore, but at that moment you’re moved enough to write some epically bad poetry.
Here are three episodic Haikus followed by some things that you didn’t know about Mr. Uehara. Enjoy.
Koji Uehara
Enables opposition
Four-hundred foot blasts
*****
Koji Uehara
Needs to take his uncanny suck
To another team
*****
Anaheim Angels:
Koji Uehara might be
A great fit for you
*****
1. According to Elias Sports Bureau, when facing Koji, it is three times more difficult to NOT hit a home run than it is to take him downtown—or, as they say: “deep into the heart of Dong City.” Okay, only I say that.
2. Fellow Japanese import, Yoshinori Tateyama, was a High School teammate of Koji. Back then, Koji was an outfielder. Now, if you’re HS coach won’t let you pitch…Just sayin’.
3. During last year’s ALCS against the Detroit Tigers, Koji pitched 1 1/3 innings while surrendering 3 home runs…HE ONLY GAVE UP ONE FEWER HRs THAN OUTS RECORDED.
4. The whole “it ain’t over ‘till the fat lady sings” thing is tired and cliché. A better rested, new cliché should be: “It ain’t over until Koji Uehara gets an out.”
5. Forget number four. Realistically, if Koji is in there, the ******* thing is already over.
6. In Japan, a popular pitch is named “shuuto.” When Koji throws it, it is referred to as “shit throw.”
7. Throughout his Major League Baseball career (2009-Present), Koji has had an excellent walk rate. This is not due to his outstanding location or control. This is due to a basic baseball philosophy: Why walk when you can hit a home run?
8. Koji’s English translator isn’t even bilingual. Hell, he’s not even “bi.” He’s simply a tape recorder with a pre-recorded message that says: “I am sorry. I did not have my good stuff today. I wish to go back to Baltimore where the team is bad and expectations are low. Thank you.”
9. Fellow Japanese pitchers Yu Darvish and Yoshi Tateyama actually speak in English anytime Koji is near.
10. Balls thrown by Koji Uehara accumulated 3,000,000 frequent flyer miles last year. Koji’s balls cashed in the miles and, like, totally vacationed in Puerto Rico—where they were held, but not for ransom. Booya!
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Writer-Cize #3(Tim Howell)
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Synopsis for "The Designated Hitter" (Tim Howell)
Barry “The Bolt” Holt woke up from his dream of becoming a major league pitcher a while back. Occasionally a day or two go by when he doesn’t even think about it.
Holt later learned that these unique gifts could also be handy in a different type of endeavor. Holt has been a contract hit man, or “designated hitter” since he left the game of baseball five years ago.
When Holt’s boss called him up with an assignment that required him to report to a minor league training camp disguised as a minor league hopeful, he was all over it. All Holt had to do was pretend to be on the team for a week or so and then get his man.
It sounded easy enough. Play some ball, do his thing, and then get paid. The only way this gig could go wrong is if Holt actually made the team. No way the sore-armed thirty-something could pull that off.
Little did Holt know that he still had some lightning left in that right arm of his.
Finally, Barry Holt is within an arm’s length of fulfilling his lifelong dream. That is, if he can stay alive long enough.
Holt's boss is getting antsy, and if he doesn't produce soon, he will become a target himself. Is Holt's lifelong dream of becoming a big leaguer worth dying for?
Writer-cize #2(Tim Howell)
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The Last Dance of the Donkey
Freelance Investigator, Jack Windsor, was having a pretty solid weekend. He had an insult-free conversation with his ex-wife on Friday night. On Saturday he beat his good buddy Brian O'Mare on the links.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Think I'll Call it Morning
On the other side of town, poverty makes life a struggle for nineteen-year-old DeAndre Davis, especially when his mother Brenda leaves town to nurse her wounds after being beaten by a boyfriend leaving DeAndre to care for his sister Shawntrice. Neighbor Mavis lends a hand and though DeAndre appreciates her efforts, she can’t convince him there’s more to life than the bleakness he sees. His best friend Jermaine is deep into a drug game that DeAndre’s determined not to play. Girlfriend LaNea offers support, but wants more than DeAndre’s able to give. When Brenda reveals a devastating secret and unwelcome news from LaNea follows, DeAndre makes a hasty decision that could change his life.
Desperation pushes DeAndre to a breaking point and his life intersects with Elisha’s in a fateful moment when they discover what separates us is not as strong as the ties that bind.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Synopsis for "One Dead Donkey" (Tim Howell)
Freelance (sounds better than “unemployed”) Investigator Jack Windsor was having a fine time losing money on the links when his best friend, Police Chief Brian O’Mare, called him up with some strange news.
Windsor’s “special abilities” were needed at a downtown crime scene immediately. O’Mare and company were at a loss as to who would kill a smiling, bespectacled, eight-foot donkey. That’s just messed up.
“Buddy the Burro” was famous for his crowd-pleasing back flips and breakdance moves. Buddy was every fan’s favorite mascot. Problem was, Buddy would disappear as quickly as he showed up. Leaving his legion of fans empty handed—literally.
This burro was a con artist, who had his name legally changed to “Buddy the Burro.” That’s pretty messed up, too. He robbed fans of cash, credit cards, and jewelry—whatever he could get his dirty donkey hands on. Hey, everyone trusts the mascot.
But so charming was Buddy that his victims had never filed a police report. After all, entertainment of this level doesn’t come cheap—what’s a few hundred dollars to put a smile on your kid’s face?
Three days ago, someone finally pinned the tail on this donkey. Buddy was found with two holes in his head at a sleazy downtown motel, still in full costume. Yes, that is really messed up.
Question: Who would want to kill the lovable mascot?
Answer: More people than you could imagine.
The police have no idea where to start in regards to suspects. The motel room was wiped clean, there was no sign of forced entry, and Buddy’s wallet was full of cash. They could be looking for a rival mascot, a pissed off parent, or maybe even a jealous lover (this donkey got around.)
There is only one man who stands a chance at solving the case of the “Dead Donkey.” It’s time to see if Jack Windsor, everyone’s favorite “hypnagogic hallucination” expert is up for the task. Regardless, he could use the dough.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Eulogy Experience Assignment (Tim Howell)
I apologize for being a few minutes late. I was at the doctor having some basic blood work done—been putting that off, you know how it goes. Oddly enough my triglycerides were a tad high, but my resting heartbeat was excellent! It's now actually lower than Lance Armstrong’s!
Okay. Wow, nice crowd. I thought I was the dead one.
Anyhoo, I’d like to thank you all for showing up at my wake to pay your respects. Or just to be seen. It’s whatever, folks, you're here and that's pretty cool.
And just to let you know how sincerely I appreciate your attendance, I just posted to my Facebook page that, quote: “I sincerely appreciate your attendance.” That’s just me—still keeping it real guys—I’m all up in the “afterlife,” yo!
Now it's time for the "small talk portion" of my spiel. So, how is everyone? Good. Have a decent lunch? Excellent, here's hoping you packed some Rolaids and popped a Beano, brother! Right on. Gas prices still high? Boy, they sure are! If I could get my cold, dead hands around the dude that controls the price at the pump...Yes sir, the weather sure is a tad too hot/cold/pleasant/horrific, for me as well.
Have any trouble with the security at the front gate? They tend to be kind of relaxed when you're dead and all. I mean even if there are assassins in the crowd, who are you going to kill?
Well, I’ll keep this brief. I have a ton of things to do. Now that I (ahem) have some free time on my hands, I’m going to finally complete my LinkedIn account. Damn thing has been at 75% for about three years now…
Okay, here goes.
I have not one regret. I have about one thousand. Haha. Oh lighten up, it’s okay to laugh a little, it won’t kill you, I promise. And jeez, Lou, don’t look at me like that, I’m not going to kill you either…but, wait a minute...hold on a second...I'm getting a message...from beyond...it's about you, Lou...it says..."you will die in a horrible traffic accident on the planet Neptune just outside of Uranus in the year 2055..."
Haha! Gotcha! I’m not clairvoyant either playas! I’m just dead, baby, just dead.
And no, I’m not a freaking zombie. I’ve always been pale, a-holes—perhaps now even moreso—and no, that’s not blood around my mouth, either. I was drinking a V8 juice, and some got stuck in my goatee. My bad.
Actually, that reminds me. I need a gig. Yes I know that’s random, but ADD doesn’t die with you. It lives on and on...
If any of you are thinking of writing a horror story, preferably about ghosts—or zombies, they’re so HOT right now—I think I may be able to add some “real world” assistance. Hell, I’ll even eat some brains if need be—I’m a method actor. I’m sure there are far worse things being done in Hollywood as we speak than wolfing down some "brain chowder" to land a job.
You know the drill. Just hit me up on my LinkedIn or drop me a line on my "celly."
I do have some experience writing. Sadly, as an ill-fated attempt to build my own unique “brand” I never actually attached my name to any of my published work. I wanted my niche to be the “Mysteriously Mysterious Mystery Writer.”
God, that was stupid.
Maybe not as dumb as blow drying my hair while I was still in the shower. I still don’t understand that one. Hell, I was wearing rubber shoes and grounded.
Oh well, you just can’t win them all.
Well I guess that about wraps things up. I need to add a new Twitter profile photograph. The one I have up now is way too vibrant and alive. False advertising, blah blah blah. Word 'em up.
Peace out fools!
For a complete transcript of the preceding ramblings from the wake—visit the dead dude’s new blog, at: www.DeadManTalking.com. He’s also available for children’s parties. Look him up, he’s a hard worker that’s just dying to entertain (or scare the hell out of) you.
Writer-cize #1(Tim Howell)
1. Many things inspire me to write. For example, a strange quote from a weird person (Woody Allen) is one thing that gets my keyboard a-clacking.
If “eighty percent of success is showing up” and I’m successful, can I make the missing twenty percent of that equation involve harvesting melons from a tree named Katy Perry? I mean why not? She’s attracted to success. It’s why she dumped Russell Brand.
2. I’d like to have representation from a literary agent in the next year, and I’d like to be published—old school style, in print—within the next three years. I think this is a feasible goal. Regardless, I’ll show up at least eighty-one percent of the time to give these goals within nineteen percent of my full effort (with apologies to the melon-bearing Perry tree.)
3. I pledge to write everyday.
It doesn’t matter if its fiction on my ‘fridge, or notes in my notebook. I will complete a composition. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll scribble a little until I scrawl some excellent drivel. Heck, I might even compose a story that is boringly gory.
You get the idea. I’m going to write everyday.