I’m filibustering this Daily Notes until Dear Author: (i) compiles a leaderboard of the top-10 hitting performances of the 2009 World Baseball Classic, (ii) uncovers a correlation between WBC performance and MLB performance, (iii) infers a causality, and (iv) calls it Science.
If there ever were significant numbers of Homo sapiens individuals with cognitive limitations on their capacity for behavioral variability, natural selection by intraspecific competition and predation would have quickly and ruthlessly winnowed them out. In the unforgiving Pleistocene environments in which our species evolved, reproductive isolation was the penalty for stupidity, and lions and wolves were its cure. In other words: No villages, no village idiots.
I’m not entirely sure what is happening to you, re: sanity, but I disagree. The most brilliantly bad author, in my experience, is Harry Stephen Keeler (1890-1967). Though his badness is far less celebrated than Ms. Ros’, it has a certain spunk, that is to say, vivacity, which makes his utter lack of skill all the more endearing.
The beginning of a Keeler thriller:
“For it must be remembered that at the time I knew quite nothing, naturally, concerning Milo Payne, the mysterious Cockney-talking Englishman with the checkered long-beaked Sherlockholmsian cap; nor of the latter’s “Barr-Bag” which was as like my own bag as one Milwaukee wienerwurst is like another; nor of Legga, the Human Spider, with her four legs and her six arms; nor of Ichabod Chang, ex-convict, and son of Dong Chang; nor of the elusive poetess, Abigail Sprigge; nor of the Great Simon, with his 2163 pearl buttons; nor of–in short, I then knew quite nothing about anything or anybody involved in the affair of which I had now become a part, unless perchance it were my Nemesis, Sophie Kratzenschneiderwümpel–or Suing Sophie!”
Comment by Well-Beered Englishman — March 11, 2013 @ 2:28 pm
I yield the floor to the Gentleman from Houston for this correction, and acknowledge the asserted horribleness of said prose.
The greatest ever introduction of an athlete does not, sadly, refer to a baseball player:
Too many of us are broken men
And we kneel at the side of the road
to be covered in the dust
from the hooves of our enemy’s horses
And we chew on gravel
and we smile the smile of broken teeth and supplication
But one man will not yield!
One man will stand always
and he will cast you in his shadow
Because the rock on which he stands is not a rock!
It is courage–
It is hope–
Enough to sustain a nation
He will howl at the moon
and he will call his name into the new day
to put his claim
Ladies and Gentlemen,
The number one ranked eater in the world
and corned beef eating Champion of the world
He has God’s user name and password
and he does with it what he chooses
The Nation’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Champion,
Manager Victor Mesa was the primary reason Cuba failed to advance…he belittled everybody, from the umpires to the opposing teams to his own players…should have been tossed when he placed the ball under his armpit, then rolled it to the umpire…worst of all was the lack of faith he had in his team, demonstrating their mistakes from the dugout and goading them constantly…noone can play under that pressure…he jerked his position players and his pitchers in and out of the lineup seemingly without plan…the games were all about HIM…he made the world root against his team.
I take this opportunity to post several more quotations from Harry Stephen Keeler’s novel Behind That Mask, which I had the pleasure of reading at the British Museum whilst researching my master’s thesis.
“I hope I’m not interrupting you, Professor,” I began. “Not at all,” he said. “I hadn’t started in yet with my late afternoon work period. A friend of mine – a professor Alcibiades Brown – was just here, and we had a spirited session in rhythm and music, he on his tuba, and I on my snare drum.”
“Did the statuesque Diana evince great joy at your having located a cache of the old Marinello face cream?” I asked her.
“O’Rourke paused belligerently.”
Comment by Well-Beered Englishman — March 11, 2013 @ 3:39 pm
From The Fiddling Cracksman, Chapter 5, “Destiny in the Person of One Hoggenheimer!”
“It’s getting now that a pedestrian’s not safe anywhere–except in a second storey window.”
“How,” inquired Mr. Winship, analytically, “would a pedestrian ever be walking in a second storey window?”
“Oh, Joe–don’t be so technical!”
Comment by Well-Beered Englishman — March 11, 2013 @ 3:45 pm
I don’t think you can lump Davis in as a TTO like Dunn. He doesn’t walk enough, so he really can’t expect to get much higher than the ~42% TTO he had last year. He’s behind guys like Peña, Reynolds, Granderson, even Pedro Alvarez, Uggla, Kubel, etc…