40 thoughts on “January 17, 2020: Sign Up, You Cowards!”

  1. Twins farmhand Anthony Vizcaya was the Most Valuable Player in the Colombian League championship series. I don't know how good that is--I wasn't even aware that there was a Colombian League--but I suppose it's better than not being the Most Valuable Player.

    1. I wish I could find more of his back story. He was in Cleveland's farm system, disappeared for a few years and the Twins found him last year and signed him. He had a great year in the minors this past summer, but is 26 years old.

      1. It was noted in the story and I couldn't remember if there were coaches that weren't on the bench during the game.

      2. I do believe there are teams who have more coaches than the number allowed to be in uniform for games. So there would be the thought by some that a team may hire a woman as a coach for more P.R. reasons. The fact that she will be in uniform during games is a statement that they are hiring her as a valued addition to their coaching staff. Kudos to her. Kudos to the Giants for hiring her.

    3. Saw on Twitter earlier today that Aubrey Huff is not a fan of the Giants having a female coach

    1. As far as government agency hiring, I've noticed TSA standards aren't exactly modeled on "The Right Stuff." Sounds like it was well-handled by TSA generally, though, and resolution wasn't ugly.

  6. Pursuant to yesterday's discussion of organ meats, I'd like to relay an anecdote from my youth that may shine some light on my aversion. When I was in third grade, a flu bug hit our school pretty hard. One morning I woke up with a fever and chills. Normally my mother would have kept me home, but she was substitute teaching at my school at the time and so decided I should go to class and see how things went. They went south very quickly, and I ended up in the nurse's office after an hour or so. Because my mother wasn't able to leave, I was sent to stay with our emergency contact, an older couple who lived in and ran the funeral home next door. Upon arrival I was squired to the third floor of the old Victorian dwelling to a small room with crocheted doilies on every upholstered surface where the woman's ancient mother, a skeletal semi-invalid in a rocking chair, spent her days. For the next few hours I laid on a couch under a musty quilt, watching TV with the old woman. I was alternately sweating profusely and shivering violently from chills and feeling truly awful. Throughout the morning I drifting in and out of a fitful fever doze. The old woman had a touch of dementia, and would alternately talk to the TV, her caged canary, and me, although it was clear that she thought I was somebody I was not, most likely someone from her own muddled memories. In retrospect, it felt like I was inside a Salvador Dali painting come to life, surreal to the extreme. And so I passed the morning with the undertaker's wife checking in on me every half hour or so. It was around noon when she came in and placed a thin, bony hand on my forehead to check on my fever. She asked how I was feeling, and told me that I might feel better if I were to have something to eat. "I'd be happy to bring you something," she said. "I'm making some lovely fried brain sandwiches for lunch." In my weakened, addled state, the imaginary implications of her offer were immediate and horrid. Needless to say, I declined the invitation. And I was never in my life, before or since, more eager and happy to go home than when my mother came to pick me up at the end of the day.

      1. So I missed that part of the discussion yesterday, until now.
        As weird coincidence would have it, I bought braunschweiger two days ago and got my daughter to try it yesterday. She more or less volunteered in spite of my hesitation, even, which was shocking. She was hoping for bologna. She was not a fan.
        Truth be told, probably the only reason I'm a fan is that it was Dad's go-to sandwich substance while deer hunting when I was a kid. Which is even more shocking given his hesitation to eat anything exotic, like, say, vegetables, or fish. (Heh, RonSwansonish, actually...) I suspect his tolerance was developed in his youth, as it was probably an available food for him as second of nine kids...

        1. Hormel braunschweiger was the best. But the quality dropped when they stopped the hog kill in Spamtown (because no more super-fresh livers).

          I think they resumed the kill (under "separate" management), but not sure.

          Braunschweiger, brown or wholegrain mustard, raw onion, and sharp cheddar on pumpernickel. Mmmm.

    2. My immediate impulse was to post an image from the movie Hannibal, but then the more sensible side of my brain kicked and remembered the trauma that movie caused.

  7. Today is my 55th birthday. I was 39 when I started the predecessor to this blog. We’ve been hanging out a long time.

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