Banknotes Harper is about business, except on those occasions when he is not about business, and even at those times he is about business. It follows, then, that Banknotes Harper’s unrelenting business travel schedule requires him to spend every spare moment in the high-level business skies and then arguing forcefully in Tokyo boardrooms, arbitraging on Abu Dhabi trading floors, and — while wearing an Oleg Cassini hardhat — pointing rolled-up architectural documents to indicate various cost-saving-but-against-code structural changes he’d like to see inside a Shanghai factory (“Rip down that load-bearing beam and have one of your boys make me a … Continue reading The Banknotes Harper Portable Conference Table, For Pounding
Matt Kemp — Chevalier Matt Kemp — wears what appears to be a double-windsor knot. He does this because he is a gentleman. He is festooned with a pocket square. On occasion, he uses it to wash his hands of the entire affair. He is not a frequenter of brothels, storefront or high-rise. This is because he need not pay for the hubba-hubba. Chevalier Matt Kemp is paid millions for being good at baseball. But even if he were not good at baseball, he would make the same amount of lucre from various wealthy patrons of the gorgeous and measured. In the … Continue reading Matt Kemp is business handsome
Study closely the countenance of American Baseball Broadcaster Jeff Huson … You’ll note the solemn look of disapproval in tandem with the finest in Evangelical’s Choice Menswear. Long ago, he leveraged carefully curated scripture against the city council. On pain of being voted out by Rev. Huson’s legion congregants, they moved to fill all municipal water tanks with Vitalis, which you see in abundance here. The entirety of it provides Huson with a mise en scène that is known variously as “Pastor Drugs” or “Comptroller of Jonestown.” The glowering reproach that issues forth is strong enough to chagrin Cotton and Increase Mather, … Continue reading Jeff Huson, possible televangelist
One day, Joe Pettini will show them all … Joe Pettini’s far-off gaze — it smoulders at the today about him just as it aches for the tomorrow before him. He is, for miserable now, a Le Tigre wearer lost in a remorseless hierarchy of Those Who Brandish Izods. Whatever mastery the lunchroom table — that steering committee of knaves, where he is not welcome — holds over Joe Pettini, it is as fugitive as the pupa. The ribs of Joe Pettini encase not only a mighty heart, but also a concrete intake facility — painted in mute, industrial gray, … Continue reading One Day, Joe Pettini Will Show Them All
This is Mike Shannon’s pencil: This is the very pencil that Mike Shannon used to bat .288/.339/.462 during the course of the 1966 season. This is the very pencil that Mike Shannon used to captain a gondola — a gondola handsomely crafted from the very same pencil — along every nautical spice route. All the while, Raquel Welch felt safe. She found the turmeric soothing. This is the very pencil that Mike Shannon used, in 1932 in Greenwood, Mississippi, to write the lyrics, “You’re closer to me, baby, than Jesus to the cross.” This is the very pencil that Mike Shannon, … Continue reading This Is Mike Shannon’s Pencil
Not so long ago, Adam Jones sounded his conch and let all know that something worthy of your reverential wonder was about to happen … As philosopher-kings and tribal warlords alike have told us via oral tradition, there is eating … Continue reading This Meatloaf Shall Suffer Adam Jones’s Godlike Hunger
Whoa, whoa, whoa … What the fuck did you just say to Rich Gale? What in the living fuck did you just say to this 6-foot-7, 225-pound sum-buck? Rich Gale will set those gold-rimmed Christian Diors aside — maybe hand them for safekeeping to Pete LaCock, who will mutter, “Shit, you shouldn’t have said that,” — give a considered stroke of his mustache with thumb and pointer finger and get the shit down to business. Don’t let the feathered body wave fool you: If Rich Gale’s smoky baritone doesn’t get through to you, then these got-damn soup bones will do … Continue reading What Did You Just Say To Rich Gale?
CLEVE’S-LAND OF THE OHIO – The Blood-Colored Leggings of Boston Town entered this docket in the Land o’ Cleve with expectations as heavy as President Taft, that flatulent Yalie, but, lo, they have buckled and sunk under Job’s burdens like … Continue reading The Indians beat the Red Sox
Have you seen this, friend? I like the looks of it. I am going to Borchert Field. I shall watch them play baseball on donkeys. Part of me — the good part — hopes that the Tripoli Arab Patrol is a patrol made up of Arabs rather than a patrol in search of Arabs to be patrolled. But I’m still going to Borchert Field. I shall watch them play baseball on donkeys. The Tripoli Arab Patrol is world-famous throughout Shrinedom, so it can’t be all bad. I’m told a band will play. I enjoy a good Sousa march. I’ll hope … Continue reading I shall watch them play baseball on donkeys
Regarding Chance Ruffin, we are faced with two possibilities insofar as his soul, essence, and factory settings are concerned. The first is that, as put forth by Chance Ruffin stakeholders and as is widely believed, he is a simple pitcher absorbed by his craft. The other, more subversive supposition is that Chance Ruffin is not a pitcher but rather — actually and in actuality — a hyper-realistic thumb puppet. Please regard the following instance of color photographic evidence: That, mute onlookers, is unassailably a thumb puppet. Note that absence of any real slope from head to neck, which is indicative … Continue reading Chance Ruffin: Pitcher or thumb puppet?