i wish i lived in battle creek

for this reason (from today's battle creek enquirer):

Time to enforce drain code

First the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality allowed sewage to be discharged into Rice Creek, now the State and Indian drains at Duck Lake. Soon it will be every drain in the state. The drain commissioner must fight to stop the discharge of sewage into the drainage system.

The drain code specifically states, Sec.423: (1) An entity shall not continue to discharge or permit to be discharged into any county drain or inter county drain of the state any sewage or waste matter capable of producing in the drain detrimental deposits, objectionable odor nuisance, injury to drainage conduits or structures, or capable of producing such pollution of the waters of the state receiving the flow from the drains as to injure livestock, destroy fish life or be injurious to public health.

I can guarantee you the sewage being discharged into our drains, rivers and streams will be detrimental to the entire state's above-ground water resources. I give the public my word I will enforce the drain code and stop the use of our drainage system as sewer conduits to Lake Michigan.

I need your help on Aug. 5.

Johnny Cash

Democratic candidate for Calhoun County drain commissioner

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i wonder if his campaign is taking full advantage of his namesake. i would think, as a drain commission candidate, he could easily allude to "big river".

ben's chili bowl: a place for love...and chili

probably not entirely safe for work, what with the sexual innuendo.

maggie and angela discuss cormac mccarthy's "the road"

angela: i just want you to know that if the world ends and we're left alive, i will push a grocery cart on the road with you.

maggie: that's very nice. i'll carry the pistol.

song of the day

"i'm a woman / can't you see what i am"

love it.

shark uterus?

Pisces Horoscope for week of July 17, 2008

The uterus of a pregnant sand tiger shark is not exactly a peaceful sanctuary. Her eggs hatch in there well before she gives birth. Soon the multiple embryos begin a fight to the death. By the time the mother goes into labor, there's just one pup remaining. I suspect there's now a similar kind of survival-of-the-fittest struggle going on within the metaphorical womb of your imagination, Pisces. Several pretty good brainchildren are tussling for supremacy. Which one will defeat and eat the others and grow into maturity? I bet we'll find out soon.

the stuff epic heroes are made of

joel zumaya is already in baseball love poems, but he's positioned to make himself the epic hero.

what are epic heroes made of? after reading this great write-up in ESPN: The Magazine, i'm thinking it's at least one part ingenuity:

Nothing had ever come easy for him, so why should baseball? His dad worked in construction, while mom Yvonne worked at Burger King. (Joel Jr., the oldest of three kids, taught himself to pitch with a ball made of electrical tape.)

there's something of Sisyphus in that, no? what about the maximus poems with zumaya instead?

is there something strange about a young lady so freaking obsessed with baseball? who knows, but if i could get a PhD in baseball poems, i'd be in line tomorrow. (because any decent school isn't open for admission at 11:10 pm on a sunday).

anyway, watch this:

this makes me happy

from today's detroit free press:

The Tigers appear willing to include reliever Fernando Rodney in trade offers. The right-hander has been inconsistent since returning from the disabled list. ...
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rodney was light's out in 2006, but now seems like he needs a change of scenery to check his ego (he's always been a signal-shaker) and listen to the catcher. honestly, i could almost see the yankees gunning for him. wise, maybe not, but funny, sure.

in the name of research

i need your list of best sports/baseball nicknames.

thanks.

another new poem

POEM FOR YOUR THIRD BIRTHDAY

If there is one thing

I give you,

let it be red.

Let it be the red of cayenne

toasting in the pan

the moment before Abuelita

adds the rice, red

of Johnny Cash growling

Rusty Cage, red

of tacky vinyl

purses, scabbed knees,

Frank O'Hara

talking to the sun

at Fire Island.

Let it be the red

of incorrect calculus

solutions, red

teeth of stealing home

on a passed ball, red

of The Martyrdom of St. Ursula,

c-sections, whiskey-rage,

drunken lovemaking,

battered pickup truck

at the end of the street

turning left.

where were you four years ago, maureen?

from today's new york times:

“Never marry a man who has no friends,” he starts. “This usually means that he will be incapable of the intimacy that marriage demands. I am always amazed at the number of men I have counseled who have no friends. Since, as the Hebrew Scriptures say, ‘Iron shapes iron and friend shapes friend,’ what are his friends like?

ok, ok, it seemed like he had a lot of friends, but they weren't. really.

anyway. food for thought, kids.