Tuesday, October 28, 2014
The 85 Year Old Dot To Dot Detective is Coming - FREE!
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Which Breed of Dog is the Smartest?
Having owned both a poodle and a Shepherd Rotweiller mix, I cannot say that I agree, but the Poodle is commonly acknowledged to be the most wisely intelligent of all members of the canine population.
There is a general belief that he is a 'dandy', whose time is largely occupied in personal embellishment, and that he requires a great deal of individual attention in the matter of his toilet. It may be true that to keep him in exhibition order and perfect cleanliness his owner needs to devote more consideration to him than is necessary in the case of many breeds; but in other respects he gives very little trouble, and all who are attached to him are consistent in their opinion that there is no dog so intensely interesting and responsive as a companion.
His qualities of mind and his acute powers of reasoning are indeed so great that there is something almost human in his attractiveness and his devotion. His aptitude in learning is never denied, and many are the stories told of his marvellous talent and versatility.
Not merely as a showman's dog has he distinguished himself. He is something more than a mountebank of the booths, trained to walk the tight rope and stand on his head. He is an adept at performing tricks, but it is his alertness of brain that places him apart from other animals.
WHAT'S A CORDED POODLE?
The profuse and long coat of the poodle has the peculiarity that if not kept constantly brushed out it twists up into little cords which increase in length as the new hair grows and clings about it. The unshed old hair and the new growth entwined together thus become distinct rope-like cords. Eventually, if these cords are not cut short, or accidentally torn off, they drag along the ground, and so prevent the poor animal from moving with any degree of comfort or freedom.
Corded Poodles are very showy, and from the remarkable appearance of the coat, attract a great deal of public attention when exhibited at shows; but they have lost popularity among most fanciers, and have become few in number owing to the obvious fact that it is impossible to make pets of them or keep them in the house. The reason of this is that the coat must, from time to time, be oiled in order to keep the cords supple and prevent them from snapping, and, of course, as their coats cannot be brushed, the only way of keeping the dog clean is to wash him, which with a corded Poodle is a lengthy and laborious process. Further, the coat takes hours to dry, and unless the newly washed dog be kept in a warm room he is very liable to catch cold. The result is, that the coats of corded Poodles are almost invariably dirty, and somewhat smelly.
I myself, never had a corded poodle, but sometimes if I let too much time elapse between groomings, my dog did bear a resemblance to those described above. It was not really a pretty sight, so I usually had the groomer visit at regular intervals.
As to my poodle's intelligence, I would say that she was bright, but far less intelligent than the Shepherd mix that was my best friend for ten years. That said, both dogs were fabulous and my life was made much richer by having them.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Would you like a Shrimp or a Prawn?
The
humble shrimp by any other name? Is it still a shrimp?
There’s
barbecue shrimp, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp soup, and fried shrimp. The
list is almost endless. And while there are certainly a large number
of ways to cook shrimp, there is actually a fair amount of confusion
as to what exactly a shrimp really is.
In England and a number of other places, what would be called shrimp in the United States, is actually referred to as prawn.
If
you were to look at a prawn and a shrimp side by side, it would be
virtually impossible to distinguish which was which. Technically
speaking, however, a prawn truly is not a shrimp.
To the naked eye, the two may appear identical but they are biologically different. On the abdomen of a shrimp or prawn are flaps. Without going into too much detail and causing everyone to go running for a Biology book, let’s just say that the there is a very subtle difference between the first abdomen flap on a shrimp and a prawn. But essentially, these are the same creature.
As far as the Americans are concerned, a shrimp is any crustacean that is part of the Natantia family of crustaceans. It doesn’t matter how big the shrimp is or where it is found—so long as it is a Nantantia crustacean—it’s a shrimp! However, there is a rather peculiar phenomenon among American shrimp that does have to do with size.
To the naked eye, the two may appear identical but they are biologically different. On the abdomen of a shrimp or prawn are flaps. Without going into too much detail and causing everyone to go running for a Biology book, let’s just say that the there is a very subtle difference between the first abdomen flap on a shrimp and a prawn. But essentially, these are the same creature.
As far as the Americans are concerned, a shrimp is any crustacean that is part of the Natantia family of crustaceans. It doesn’t matter how big the shrimp is or where it is found—so long as it is a Nantantia crustacean—it’s a shrimp! However, there is a rather peculiar phenomenon among American shrimp that does have to do with size.
On the West Coast of the United States, the typical size of a shrimp is about ½ inch in length. For some reason, the Pacific Ocean just is not a great place for jumbo shrimp to grow. But elsewhere, it is nothing for shrimp to be 12 inches in length or more.
Shrimp, like any species, comes in a wide assortment of variety. There are rock, brine, royal red, white, brown, and even pink shrimp to choose from.
Each
offers a unique flavor and consistency but all are absolutely
delicious when prepared properly. And you can make shrimp just about
any way your imagination will let you!
So
whether you want to call it prawn or just plain old shrimp—the
truth is that it tastes great no matter how you make it!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Want Christmas Money? Get it Online!
By Bill Russo
As Billrrrrr on Ebay, I have a Red Star and 1507 transactions with a very high feedback score. But I do not regularly sell or buy on Ebay. There are times however, when I get the bug and will work at it for three or four months straight before returning to in-active status.
A few years ago during the Christmas season I teamed up with a friend and we listed books, hundreds of books. This was pre kindle when book sales were probably a lot stronger than they are now. At our peak, working an hour or two a day, we were generating over $500 in sales every week. We made a nice little pile of cash and then stopped.
Recently I have started to get the itch to do a little more book selling....with no fear of Kindle. Books are not going away - at least not for the next 30 years or so.
I have done a little research and have found that the category that I wish to sell in, is still vibrant for physical products. So I'm in. I desire to make a little extra pile of money for the holidays.
In that spirit, I researched some elementary tips for successful Ebay sales. It's basic, but sometimes it is good to go back and look at the tried and true tactics. Here they are................................
10 Steps On How To Work From Home On eBay
Follow the information outlined here in order to successfully sell your items and start making a profit. It is easier than you think to have a profitable eBay business.
Step One:
Get started the right way. Accurately describe your item. If it is new say so, if it is not also state that. An accurate description will ensure that the buyer knows what they are getting.
Step Two:
Have great keywords in your title. Look for an item just like yours in an eBay search. See what comes up. Using great keywords will get your item further up on the search listings. People can only purchase your item if they can find it.
Step Three:
Use pictures. Now that the gallery is free, there is no reason not to use pictures. A digital camera is all you need in order to take a really great photograph. This is what will tell your buyers about your product. Get this right and your item has a much better chance of selling.
Step Four:
Accurately list your shipping and handling charges. Buyers are turned off when listings are obviously padding their shipping. You are entitled to have the buyer pay for the actual shipping plus reasonable handling charges. Another option may be to have a buy it now option with free shipping. This marketing tool really works well.
Step Five:
Use an online payment service like PayPal. Many buyers do not want to bother with a check or money order. They want to make an online payment. PayPal is safe and you can start with a personal account and move up to a premier or business account at a later date. It is difficult to work from home on eBay without an online payment solution.
Step Six:
Promptly ship your items after you receive payment. A delay in shipping will result in unhappy buyers. This is very important. Make sure you list all shipping options. It is always a good idea to offer an expedited service as well as standard. Always ship your item with a form of delivery confirmation. Require insurance on fragile items.
Step Seven:
Keep good communication with your buyer. Email them to let them know payment was received. Contact them to let them know their item has shipped. Send them a follow-up email to be sure they were happy with their purchase and ask them if you can put them on your email list.
Step Eight:
Create an email listing of your customers, with their permission. Let them know when a similar item is for sale. For example if you sold a customer a Limoges box, let them know when you have similar items for sale. Developing a list of happy customers is a great way to get repeat business.
Step Nine:
Stay informed. Use the eBay Forums and community links to stay on top of what is going on in the eBay community. You will know when specials are offered to buyers and when there are events. Workshops are a great way to learn more about eBay. The more you know the better you can run your business.
Step 10:
Know what is hot on eBay. Visit the What's Hot page daily. Make sure you know what is selling well in your category of items. Developing a niche market is important. You cannot cover every category. Choose an area of expertise. Write an FAQ or an informative article and post it to eBay. All of these tips will help keep you profitable.
Best of luck building a little holiday business. P.S. If you need any books look for Billrrrrr on Ebay...I will have some great classic Westerns.
And I also am on Amazon Kindle. Get my "The Creature from the Bridgewater Triangle" ebook for $2.99
As Billrrrrr on Ebay, I have a Red Star and 1507 transactions with a very high feedback score. But I do not regularly sell or buy on Ebay. There are times however, when I get the bug and will work at it for three or four months straight before returning to in-active status.
A few years ago during the Christmas season I teamed up with a friend and we listed books, hundreds of books. This was pre kindle when book sales were probably a lot stronger than they are now. At our peak, working an hour or two a day, we were generating over $500 in sales every week. We made a nice little pile of cash and then stopped.
Recently I have started to get the itch to do a little more book selling....with no fear of Kindle. Books are not going away - at least not for the next 30 years or so.
I have done a little research and have found that the category that I wish to sell in, is still vibrant for physical products. So I'm in. I desire to make a little extra pile of money for the holidays.
In that spirit, I researched some elementary tips for successful Ebay sales. It's basic, but sometimes it is good to go back and look at the tried and true tactics. Here they are................................
10 Steps On How To Work From Home On eBay
Follow the information outlined here in order to successfully sell your items and start making a profit. It is easier than you think to have a profitable eBay business.
Step One:
Get started the right way. Accurately describe your item. If it is new say so, if it is not also state that. An accurate description will ensure that the buyer knows what they are getting.
Step Two:
Have great keywords in your title. Look for an item just like yours in an eBay search. See what comes up. Using great keywords will get your item further up on the search listings. People can only purchase your item if they can find it.
Step Three:
Use pictures. Now that the gallery is free, there is no reason not to use pictures. A digital camera is all you need in order to take a really great photograph. This is what will tell your buyers about your product. Get this right and your item has a much better chance of selling.
Step Four:
Accurately list your shipping and handling charges. Buyers are turned off when listings are obviously padding their shipping. You are entitled to have the buyer pay for the actual shipping plus reasonable handling charges. Another option may be to have a buy it now option with free shipping. This marketing tool really works well.
Step Five:
Use an online payment service like PayPal. Many buyers do not want to bother with a check or money order. They want to make an online payment. PayPal is safe and you can start with a personal account and move up to a premier or business account at a later date. It is difficult to work from home on eBay without an online payment solution.
Step Six:
Promptly ship your items after you receive payment. A delay in shipping will result in unhappy buyers. This is very important. Make sure you list all shipping options. It is always a good idea to offer an expedited service as well as standard. Always ship your item with a form of delivery confirmation. Require insurance on fragile items.
Step Seven:
Keep good communication with your buyer. Email them to let them know payment was received. Contact them to let them know their item has shipped. Send them a follow-up email to be sure they were happy with their purchase and ask them if you can put them on your email list.
Step Eight:
Create an email listing of your customers, with their permission. Let them know when a similar item is for sale. For example if you sold a customer a Limoges box, let them know when you have similar items for sale. Developing a list of happy customers is a great way to get repeat business.
Step Nine:
Stay informed. Use the eBay Forums and community links to stay on top of what is going on in the eBay community. You will know when specials are offered to buyers and when there are events. Workshops are a great way to learn more about eBay. The more you know the better you can run your business.
Step 10:
Know what is hot on eBay. Visit the What's Hot page daily. Make sure you know what is selling well in your category of items. Developing a niche market is important. You cannot cover every category. Choose an area of expertise. Write an FAQ or an informative article and post it to eBay. All of these tips will help keep you profitable.
Best of luck building a little holiday business. P.S. If you need any books look for Billrrrrr on Ebay...I will have some great classic Westerns.
And I also am on Amazon Kindle. Get my "The Creature from the Bridgewater Triangle" ebook for $2.99
Monday, October 13, 2014
Free Kindle for PC
By Bill Russo
I was one of the millions who vowed never to own a Kindle. But I did like the idea of the convenience of one. I also liked the concept of being able to have free access to thousands of classics from Arthur Conan Doyle to Shakespeare.
So I cheated.
I took advantage of Google's offer to put a free Kindle app on my PC. I quickly found some blazing Westerns from authors like Zane Grey and Max Brand. I followed those up with some Sherlock Holmes. All free.
I was hooked. I still loved my real books. But I had room in my heart for a little Kindle reading as well. I truly liked the Kindle app for my computer, but after a time, I did feel the need of actually buying a Kindle.
So, it was off to the Barnes and Noble store to try their version of an Ebook reader. It seemed too much like a 'wannabe' mini PC so I did not buy one.
Cruising through E Bay, I spotted a Kindle Fire in good shape for $20.00. I bought it and truthfully I love it.
On a normal day, I still have two or three 'real' books that in progress, switching back and forth on whims; but now the mix also includes a couple E books as well.
Kindle has some sort of a Whispersync feature that keeps track of your last page read and co- ordinates your books between your PC, Android, and Kindle.
It works fine if you only read one book at a time (and I guess that does cover most people) but not so good if you are trying to ready four or five simultaneously!!!!!!!!
p.s. I have been in two of the scariest places in the world: The Bridgewater Triangle and Bisbee, Arizona. Each has a chapter in my Kindle Book - The Creature from the Bridgewater Triangle. It's just $2.99 in the Kindle Store.
I was one of the millions who vowed never to own a Kindle. But I did like the idea of the convenience of one. I also liked the concept of being able to have free access to thousands of classics from Arthur Conan Doyle to Shakespeare.
So I cheated.
I took advantage of Google's offer to put a free Kindle app on my PC. I quickly found some blazing Westerns from authors like Zane Grey and Max Brand. I followed those up with some Sherlock Holmes. All free.
I was hooked. I still loved my real books. But I had room in my heart for a little Kindle reading as well. I truly liked the Kindle app for my computer, but after a time, I did feel the need of actually buying a Kindle.
So, it was off to the Barnes and Noble store to try their version of an Ebook reader. It seemed too much like a 'wannabe' mini PC so I did not buy one.
Cruising through E Bay, I spotted a Kindle Fire in good shape for $20.00. I bought it and truthfully I love it.
On a normal day, I still have two or three 'real' books that in progress, switching back and forth on whims; but now the mix also includes a couple E books as well.
Kindle has some sort of a Whispersync feature that keeps track of your last page read and co- ordinates your books between your PC, Android, and Kindle.
It works fine if you only read one book at a time (and I guess that does cover most people) but not so good if you are trying to ready four or five simultaneously!!!!!!!!
p.s. I have been in two of the scariest places in the world: The Bridgewater Triangle and Bisbee, Arizona. Each has a chapter in my Kindle Book - The Creature from the Bridgewater Triangle. It's just $2.99 in the Kindle Store.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
The Creature from the Bridgewater Triangle
A few years ago I decided to relate the strange tale of an eerie late night walk with my Dog Samantha. A scary, hairy swamp creature called us over for a chat - or maybe we were on his midnight snack menu.
My blog was read by movie producers Aaron Cadieux and Manny Famolare. They interviewed me and featured me in their hit documentary, "The Bridgewater Triangle". An abbreviated version of the film will be shown Friday, November 28 at ten p.m. on the Destination America Channel. Visit the Bridgewater Triangle Website to purchase the DVD.
I was also interviewed and featured in a segment of Monsters and Mysteries in America, Season two, Episode 2, "Puckwudgies".
In late 2014, after my blog had been read thousands of times, I decided to publish my account on Amazon Kindle. The resulting book is called "The Creature from the Bridgewater Triangle, and other stories from 'Old' New England." You can buy it in the Kindle store for just $2.99
There are ten additional chapters besides the Creature section. I hope you will read it and consider reviewing it. The reviews of the movie, and my segment have been very positive. Here's an excerpt from the New England Folklore Blog, by Peter Muise,
"For me, the creepiest part of the movie was the interview with Bill Russo, which is either a great report of a paranormal encounter or a fantastic campfire story.
In 1990 Russo lived in Raynham and worked the late shift. One night after midnight he took his dog for a walk near some high-tension power lines. As he walked through the deserted area he heard a high-pitched voice wailing the following words:
"Ee wah chu. Ee wah chu. Keer. Keer."
A strange creature stepped into the light cast by a streetlight. It was about three feet high, covered in brown hair, potbellied, and seemed to be old. It continued to cry out "Ee wah chu. Ee wah chu. Keer. Keer" and beckoned to Russo with one hand. It wanted him to join it."
Thanks for reading and please visit my Author's Page on Kindle for some biographical information.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
W.C. Fields: "Never Give A Sucker an Even Break" - Explained
 |
| William Claude Fields |
Good Guy or Dirty Rat?
Was W.C. Fields the meanest scoundrel on the planet ...... or merely a loveable rascal?
Despite his personality, or maybe because of it, he became one of the wealthiest and most famous entertainers of the early 1900s.
After you read the Fields Philosophy of life, in his own words - you decide.
WOMEN
“People say I hate women. It’s not true. I owe everything I have to a woman. She drove me to drink. I didn’t even bother to thank her. Women are like elephants. They are fun to look at but I wouldn't want to own one."
MARRIAGE.........
 |
WC & Mae West made one great film - butshe disapproved of his drinkingand would never work with him again. |
"Marriage is a fine institution, although who in their right mind wants to live in an institution. But marriage is better than leprosy - because it’s easier to get rid of. Marriage often leads to children and I never met a kid I liked. In fact, anybody who hates kids and dogs can't be all bad. But I really do like children, provided they are cooked properly."
PREDJUDICE & POLITICS
 |
On the top rated Charlie McCarthy radioshow, fields got so mad at Charlie he forgotthat he was arguing with a wooden dummy! |
"I am often accused of prejudice. It's not true. I hate everyone equally. As for politics...I never vote FOR anyone. I just vote AGAINST someone".
OUTER SPACE
"With all the talk of space travel, I'm often queried if I think there is intelligent life on other planets. All I can tell you is ... I hope so because there certainly isn't any on this planet!"
NEVER GIVE A SUCKER AN EVEN BREAK!
"A thing worth having is a thing worth cheating for....but I am not a crook. It's just the opposite, because it is morally wrong to allow a sucker to keep his money. Never give a sucker an even break. Smarten up a chump....and by the way, you cannot cheat an honest man".
BOOZE
"They say you can't swear off drinking. It's a lie. Why Godfrey Daniels, I've done it a thousand times.
I do drink at work, but I disguise it by putting my whiskey in a lemonade container. One time a smartass took out my booze and substituted lemonade for it. I took a swig and almost choked to death. I screamed out...what damn fool put lemonade in my lemonade?
Once I was on safari in the deepest part of Africa. Some idiot forgot to bring a corkscrew. For days I had to exist on nothing but food and water.
I would drink water except for the disgusting things fish do in it. Another bad thing I heard about water is that it could become habit forming.
I always keep a flask of whiskey around in case of snakebite and I always keep a little snake around too.
A man has to believe in something. I believe I'll have another drink.. It’s my nerves you see. I think the best thing for a case of nerves is a case of Scotch.
When I got back to America after my trip overseas, the first thing I did was turn into a bar. Oh that I could! What a great trick that would be. Yes Indeed. Turn into a bar! If I could live my life over....I would live over a saloon.
When the Japanese struck Pearl Harbor, I brought a hand truck to a liquor store and bought 6 cases of gin. When a friend saw me returning, he asked why I bought 6 cases.I replied. "I think it's going to be a short war."
PHILADELPHIA
I spent a year in Philadelphia one weekend. That's not true. I was not able to stay there because I went to Philadelphia once but it was closed."
And with that line, so closes a few quotes from the mouth of William Claude Dukenfield...better known in film and Vaudeville, on network radio and Broadway...asW.C. Fields.
Were his caustic words proof of his sour nature? Or were they just for entertainment?
His last days may provide some clue to his real nature. He had been ill for several months and was confined to a hospital. Friends visiting would find him reading a Bible. This was totally out of character for the lifelong atheist. When questioned about his study of the Bible, he always answered...."I'm just looking for loopholes!"
Another thing he did shortly before he died was to toss a little bit of an Olive Branch to Philadelphia, the city he had scorned so many times. Fields told friends that he wanted his tombstone to read..."All things considered, I'd rather be living in Philadelphia."
Monday, October 6, 2014
Puerto Rico Could Soon be Number 51, Who will be the 52nd State?
 |
Possible Design for the new flag.Three rows of 9 stars and three rowsof 8 stars. Total 51 |
Since the admission of Alaska and Hawaii to the Union some 50 years ago, the American flag has had 50 stars.
Get the sewing needles out because extra stars may be needed by 2016.
There are several candidates for Statehood but Puerto Rico is at the top of the list. It is a commonwealth and its residents are American citizens - but if they actually live in PR, they are not able to vote in Federal Elections. The island nation came close to joining the team a couple of times. In 1940 the Democratic Platform included a push for Puerto Rico, Alaska, and Hawaii to join the States.
Presidents Ford, Reagan and Bush 2, all favored Statehood.
If PR does become Number 51, it will be the 29th biggest in the country.
On the same day Barack Obama was re-elected as President (November 6, 2012), the people of Puerto Rico had a referendum on whether to choose statehood. The voters selected becoming a state by a wide margin of 65 per cent.
In order to be admitted to the Union, The House and Senate must agree and a bill would have to be signed by the President. Barack Obama said before the statehood referendum that he will work with the people of PR in whatever they choose. They selected statehood by a large margin - so at high speed, everything could be completed by the end of 2015.
High speed is very unlikely, but measures were introduced into the House and Senate in 2014, that could at least set the process in motion. These measures are calling for a simple yes or no vote on the Statehood question.
There’s another place that could jump into the fold the same time as PR. But it's not a country. It actually already is part of the U.S. There is a large push to get statehood status for the District of Columbia.
Washington D.C. by itself has a comparable population to several existing states. The people of D.C. are citizens but have no senators or congressmen.
A growing number of voters liken this to the Revolutionary War Cry of Taxation Without Representation. D.C. license plates are now printed with that very slogan - although residents can opt out if they wish. George Bush 2 opted out, but not Bill Clinton. Willie’s plates proudly carried the slogan. I am not sure if Barry Obama’s cars have it.
Other areas with a small ‘join the nation’ movement include, Guam, Virgin Islands and American Samoa. There are a handful of other smaller island groupings where there is interest. Even the Philippines has a dedicated contingent working towards Statehood. Philippine soldiers bravely fought alongside the Allied troops in WW II.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Providence; Once the Capital City of Baseball
Introduction by Bill Russo
Rhode
Island was a mecca for baseball in the late 1800s and the early
1900s. The Major League Providence Grays won two National League
Championships in their brief existence from 1878 to 1885. The ball
club won the first ever World Series in 1884, defeating the New York
Mets (Metropolitans) of the American Association.
 |
| Babe Ruth Providence Grays 1914 |
The
minor league Grays had a young Babe Ruth on their roster in 1914.
The
Grays never had best selling Western author Zane Grey on their
pitching staff; but it's not because the writer didn't want to be.
Gray, who was a struggling dentist, tried as hard as he could to
become a professional ball player. He was a pretty fair pitcher at
the University of Pennsylvania.
Like
a lot of hurlers of his day, his career was hurt, when baseball moved
the pitcher's mound from 50 feet away from home plate to 60 feet. He
still was a campus hero, but couldn't get a deal to play major league
ball or even to toil in the minor leagues.
Though
he is best known as the writer of The Riders of the Purple Sage and many
other Westerns; Grey did pen a few baseball books. Here's the
first chapter of “The Redheaded Outfield and other baseball
stories”.
It's
a 5,000 word short story about the fictional Rochester Stars minor
league team in a 1920 game against the real Providence Grays. The
tale begins with an introduction of the three outfielders of the
Stars, all named Red:
There
was Delaney's red-haired trio--Red Gilbat, left fielder; Reddy
Clammer, right fielder, and Reddie Ray, center fielder, composing the
most remarkable outfield ever developed in minor league baseball. It
was Delaney's pride, as it was also his trouble.
Red Gilbat was nutty--and his batting average was .371. Any student of baseball could weigh these two facts against each other and understand something of Delaney's trouble. It was not possible to camp on Red Gilbat's trail. The man was a jack-o'-lantern, a will-o'-the-wisp, a weird, long- legged, long-armed, red-haired illusive phantom. When the gong rang at the ball grounds there were ten chances to one that Red would not be present. He had been discovered with small boys peeping through knotholes at the vacant left field he was supposed to inhabit during play.
Of course what Red did off the ball grounds was not so important as what he did on. And there was absolutely no telling what under the sun he might do then except once out of every three times at bat he could be counted on to knock the cover off the ball.
Reddy Clammer was a grand-stand player--the kind all managers hated--and he was hitting .305. He made circus catches, circus stops, circus throws, circus steals--but particularly circus catches. That is to say, he made easy plays appear difficult. He was always strutting, posing, talking, arguing, quarreling--when he was not engaged in making a grand-stand play. Reddy Clammer used every possible incident and artifice to bring himself into the limelight.
Reddie Ray had been the intercollegiate champion in the sprints and a famous college ball player. After a few months of professional ball he was hitting over .400 and leading the league both at bat and on the bases. It was a beautiful and a thrilling sight to see him run. He was so quick to start, so marvelously swift, so keen of judgment, that neither Delaney nor any player could ever tell the hit that he was not going to get. That was why Reddie Ray was a whole game in himself.
Delaney's Rochester Stars and the Providence Grays were tied for first place. Of the present series each team had won a game. Rivalry had always been keen, and as the teams were about to enter the long homestretch for the pennant there was battle in the New England air.
The September day was perfect. The stands were half full and the bleachers packed with a white-sleeved mass. And the field was beautifully level and green. The Grays were practicing and the Stars were on their bench.
``We're up against it,'' Delaney was saying. ``This new umpire, Fuller, hasn't got it in for us. Oh, no, not at all! Believe me, he's a robber. But Scott is pitchin' well. Won his last three games. He'll bother 'em. And the three Reds have broken loose. They're on the rampage. They'll burn up this place today.''
Somebody noted the absence of Gilbat.
Delaney gave a sudden start. ``Why, Gil was here,'' he said slowly. ``Lord!--he's about due for a nutty stunt.''
Whereupon Delaney sent boys and players scurrying about to find Gilbat, and Delaney went himself to ask the Providence manager to hold back the gong for a few minutes.
Presently somebody brought Delaney a telephone message that Red Gilbat was playing ball with some boys in a lot four blocks down the street. When at length a couple of players marched up to the bench with Red in tow Delaney uttered an immense sigh of relief and then, after a close scrutiny of Red's face, he whispered, ``Lock the gates!''
Then the gong rang. The Grays trooped in. The Stars ran out, except Gilbat, who ambled like a giraffe. The hum of conversation in the grand stand quickened for a moment with the scraping of chairs, and then grew quiet. The bleachers sent up the rollicking cry of expectancy. The umpire threw out a white ball with his stentorian ``Play!'' and Blake of the Grays strode to the plate.
Hitting safely, he started the game with a rush. With Dorr up, the Star infield played for a bunt. Like clockwork Dorr dumped the first ball as Blake got his flying start for second base. Morrissey tore in for the ball, got it on the run and snapped it underhand to Healy, beating the runner by an inch. The fast Blake, with a long slide, made third base. The stands stamped. The bleachers howled. White, next man up, batted a high fly to left field. This was a sun field and the hardest to play in the league. Red Gilbat was the only man who ever played it well. He judged the fly, waited under it, took a step hack, then forward, and deliberately caught the ball in his gloved hand. A throw-in to catch the runner scoring from third base would have been futile, but it was not like Red Gilbat to fail to try. He tossed the ball to O'Brien. And Blake scored amid applause.
``What do you know about that?'' ejaculated Delaney, wiping his moist face. ``I never before saw our nutty Redhead pull off a play like that.''
Some of the players yelled at Red, ``This is a two-handed league, you bat!''
The first five players on the list for the Grays were left-handed batters, and against a right- handed pitcher whose most effective ball for them was a high fast one over the outer corner they would naturally hit toward left field. It was no surprise to see Hanley bat a skyscraper out to left. Red had to run to get under it. He braced himself rather unusually for a fielder. He tried to catch the ball in his bare right hand and muffed it, Hanley got to second on the play while the audience roared. When they got through there was some roaring among the Rochester players. Scott and Captain Healy roared at Red, and Red roared back at them.
``It's all off. Red never did that before,'' cried Delaney in despair. ``He's gone clean bughouse now.''
Babcock was the next man up and he likewise hit to left. It was a low, twisting ball--half fly, half liner--and a difficult one to field. Gilbat ran with great bounds, and though he might have got two hands on the ball he did not try, but this time caught it in his right, retiring the side.
The Stars trotted in, Scott and Healy and Kane, all veterans, looking like thunderclouds. Red ambled in the last and he seemed very nonchalant.
``By Gosh, I'd 'a' ketched that one I muffed if I'd had time to change hands,'' he said with a grin, and he exposed a handful of peanuts. He had refused to drop the peanuts to make the catch with two hands. That explained the mystery. It was funny, yet nobody laughed. There was that run chalked up against the Stars, and this game had to be won.
``Red, I--I want to take the team home in the lead,'' said Delaney, and it was plain that he suppressed strong feeling. ``You didn't play the game, you know.''
Red appeared mightily ashamed.
``Del, I'll git that run back,'' he said.
Then he strode to the plate, swinging his wagon- tongue bat. For all his awkward position in the box he looked what he was--a formidable hitter. He seemed to tower over the pitcher--Red was six feet one--and he scowled and shook his bat at Wehying and called, ``Put one over--you wienerwurst!'' Wehying was anything but red- headed, and he wasted so many balls on Red that it looked as if he might pass him. He would have passed him, too, if Red had not stepped over on the fourth ball and swung on it. White at second base leaped high for the stinging hit, and failed to reach it. The ball struck and bounded for the fence. When Babcock fielded it in, Red was standing on third base, and the bleachers groaned.
Whereupon Chesty Reddy Clammer proceeded to draw attention to himself, and incidentally delay the game, by assorting the bats as if the audience and the game might gladly wait years to see him make a choice.
``Git in the game!'' yelled Delaney.
``Aw, take my bat, Duke of the Abrubsky!'' sarcastically said Dump Kane. When the grouchy Kane offered to lend his bat matters were critical in the Star camp.
Other retorts followed, which Reddy Clammer deigned not to notice. At last he got a bat that suited him--and then, importantly, dramatically, with his cap jauntily riding his red locks, he marched to the plate.
Some wag in the bleachers yelled into the silence, ``Oh, Maggie, your lover has come!''
Not improbably Clammer was thinking first of his presence before the multitude, secondly of his batting average and thirdly of the run to be scored. In this instance he waited and feinted at balls and fouled strikes at length to work his base. When he got to first base suddenly he bolted for second, and in the surprise of the unlooked-for play he made it by a spread-eagle slide. It was a circus steal.
Delaney snorted. Then the look of profound disgust vanished in a flash of light. His huge face beamed.
Reddie Ray was striding to the plate.
There was something about Reddie Ray that pleased all the senses. His lithe form seemed instinct with life; any sudden movement was suggestive of stored lightning. His position at the
Red Gilbat was nutty--and his batting average was .371. Any student of baseball could weigh these two facts against each other and understand something of Delaney's trouble. It was not possible to camp on Red Gilbat's trail. The man was a jack-o'-lantern, a will-o'-the-wisp, a weird, long- legged, long-armed, red-haired illusive phantom. When the gong rang at the ball grounds there were ten chances to one that Red would not be present. He had been discovered with small boys peeping through knotholes at the vacant left field he was supposed to inhabit during play.
Of course what Red did off the ball grounds was not so important as what he did on. And there was absolutely no telling what under the sun he might do then except once out of every three times at bat he could be counted on to knock the cover off the ball.
Reddy Clammer was a grand-stand player--the kind all managers hated--and he was hitting .305. He made circus catches, circus stops, circus throws, circus steals--but particularly circus catches. That is to say, he made easy plays appear difficult. He was always strutting, posing, talking, arguing, quarreling--when he was not engaged in making a grand-stand play. Reddy Clammer used every possible incident and artifice to bring himself into the limelight.
Reddie Ray had been the intercollegiate champion in the sprints and a famous college ball player. After a few months of professional ball he was hitting over .400 and leading the league both at bat and on the bases. It was a beautiful and a thrilling sight to see him run. He was so quick to start, so marvelously swift, so keen of judgment, that neither Delaney nor any player could ever tell the hit that he was not going to get. That was why Reddie Ray was a whole game in himself.
Delaney's Rochester Stars and the Providence Grays were tied for first place. Of the present series each team had won a game. Rivalry had always been keen, and as the teams were about to enter the long homestretch for the pennant there was battle in the New England air.
The September day was perfect. The stands were half full and the bleachers packed with a white-sleeved mass. And the field was beautifully level and green. The Grays were practicing and the Stars were on their bench.
``We're up against it,'' Delaney was saying. ``This new umpire, Fuller, hasn't got it in for us. Oh, no, not at all! Believe me, he's a robber. But Scott is pitchin' well. Won his last three games. He'll bother 'em. And the three Reds have broken loose. They're on the rampage. They'll burn up this place today.''
Somebody noted the absence of Gilbat.
Delaney gave a sudden start. ``Why, Gil was here,'' he said slowly. ``Lord!--he's about due for a nutty stunt.''
Whereupon Delaney sent boys and players scurrying about to find Gilbat, and Delaney went himself to ask the Providence manager to hold back the gong for a few minutes.
Presently somebody brought Delaney a telephone message that Red Gilbat was playing ball with some boys in a lot four blocks down the street. When at length a couple of players marched up to the bench with Red in tow Delaney uttered an immense sigh of relief and then, after a close scrutiny of Red's face, he whispered, ``Lock the gates!''
Then the gong rang. The Grays trooped in. The Stars ran out, except Gilbat, who ambled like a giraffe. The hum of conversation in the grand stand quickened for a moment with the scraping of chairs, and then grew quiet. The bleachers sent up the rollicking cry of expectancy. The umpire threw out a white ball with his stentorian ``Play!'' and Blake of the Grays strode to the plate.
Hitting safely, he started the game with a rush. With Dorr up, the Star infield played for a bunt. Like clockwork Dorr dumped the first ball as Blake got his flying start for second base. Morrissey tore in for the ball, got it on the run and snapped it underhand to Healy, beating the runner by an inch. The fast Blake, with a long slide, made third base. The stands stamped. The bleachers howled. White, next man up, batted a high fly to left field. This was a sun field and the hardest to play in the league. Red Gilbat was the only man who ever played it well. He judged the fly, waited under it, took a step hack, then forward, and deliberately caught the ball in his gloved hand. A throw-in to catch the runner scoring from third base would have been futile, but it was not like Red Gilbat to fail to try. He tossed the ball to O'Brien. And Blake scored amid applause.
``What do you know about that?'' ejaculated Delaney, wiping his moist face. ``I never before saw our nutty Redhead pull off a play like that.''
Some of the players yelled at Red, ``This is a two-handed league, you bat!''
The first five players on the list for the Grays were left-handed batters, and against a right- handed pitcher whose most effective ball for them was a high fast one over the outer corner they would naturally hit toward left field. It was no surprise to see Hanley bat a skyscraper out to left. Red had to run to get under it. He braced himself rather unusually for a fielder. He tried to catch the ball in his bare right hand and muffed it, Hanley got to second on the play while the audience roared. When they got through there was some roaring among the Rochester players. Scott and Captain Healy roared at Red, and Red roared back at them.
``It's all off. Red never did that before,'' cried Delaney in despair. ``He's gone clean bughouse now.''
Babcock was the next man up and he likewise hit to left. It was a low, twisting ball--half fly, half liner--and a difficult one to field. Gilbat ran with great bounds, and though he might have got two hands on the ball he did not try, but this time caught it in his right, retiring the side.
The Stars trotted in, Scott and Healy and Kane, all veterans, looking like thunderclouds. Red ambled in the last and he seemed very nonchalant.
``By Gosh, I'd 'a' ketched that one I muffed if I'd had time to change hands,'' he said with a grin, and he exposed a handful of peanuts. He had refused to drop the peanuts to make the catch with two hands. That explained the mystery. It was funny, yet nobody laughed. There was that run chalked up against the Stars, and this game had to be won.
``Red, I--I want to take the team home in the lead,'' said Delaney, and it was plain that he suppressed strong feeling. ``You didn't play the game, you know.''
Red appeared mightily ashamed.
``Del, I'll git that run back,'' he said.
Then he strode to the plate, swinging his wagon- tongue bat. For all his awkward position in the box he looked what he was--a formidable hitter. He seemed to tower over the pitcher--Red was six feet one--and he scowled and shook his bat at Wehying and called, ``Put one over--you wienerwurst!'' Wehying was anything but red- headed, and he wasted so many balls on Red that it looked as if he might pass him. He would have passed him, too, if Red had not stepped over on the fourth ball and swung on it. White at second base leaped high for the stinging hit, and failed to reach it. The ball struck and bounded for the fence. When Babcock fielded it in, Red was standing on third base, and the bleachers groaned.
Whereupon Chesty Reddy Clammer proceeded to draw attention to himself, and incidentally delay the game, by assorting the bats as if the audience and the game might gladly wait years to see him make a choice.
``Git in the game!'' yelled Delaney.
``Aw, take my bat, Duke of the Abrubsky!'' sarcastically said Dump Kane. When the grouchy Kane offered to lend his bat matters were critical in the Star camp.
Other retorts followed, which Reddy Clammer deigned not to notice. At last he got a bat that suited him--and then, importantly, dramatically, with his cap jauntily riding his red locks, he marched to the plate.
Some wag in the bleachers yelled into the silence, ``Oh, Maggie, your lover has come!''
Not improbably Clammer was thinking first of his presence before the multitude, secondly of his batting average and thirdly of the run to be scored. In this instance he waited and feinted at balls and fouled strikes at length to work his base. When he got to first base suddenly he bolted for second, and in the surprise of the unlooked-for play he made it by a spread-eagle slide. It was a circus steal.
Delaney snorted. Then the look of profound disgust vanished in a flash of light. His huge face beamed.
Reddie Ray was striding to the plate.
There was something about Reddie Ray that pleased all the senses. His lithe form seemed instinct with life; any sudden movement was suggestive of stored lightning. His position at the
plate
was on the left side, and he stood perfectly motionless, with just a
hint of tense waiting alertness. Dorr, Blake and Babcock, the
outfielders for the Grays, trotted round to the right of their usual
position. Delaney smiled derisively, as if he knew how futile it was
to tell what field Reddie Ray might hit into. Wehying, the old fox,
warily eyed the youngster, and threw him a high curve, close in. It
grazed Reddie's shirt, but he never moved a hair. Then Wehying, after
the manner of many veteran pitchers when trying out a new and
menacing batter, drove a straight fast ball at Reddie's head. Reddie
ducked, neither too slow nor too quick, just right to show what an
eye he had, how hard it was to pitch to. The next was a strike. And
on the next he appeared to step and swing in one action. There was a
ringing rap, and the ball shot toward right, curving down, a vicious,
headed hit. Mallory, at first base, snatched at it and found only the
air. Babcock had only time to take a few sharp steps, and then he
plunged down, blocked the hit and fought the twisting ball. Reddie
turned first base, flitted on toward second, went headlong in the
dust, and shot to the base before White got the throw-in from
Babcock. Then, as White wheeled and lined the ball home to catch the
scoring Clammer, Reddie Ray leaped up, got his sprinter's start and,
like a rocket, was off for third. This time he dove behind the base,
sliding in a half circle, and as Hanley caught Strickland's perfect
throw and whirled with the ball, Reddie's hand slid to the bag.
Reddie got to his feet amid a rather breathless silence. Even the coachers were quiet. There was a moment of relaxation, then Wehying received the ball from Hanley and faced the batter.
This was Dump Kane. There was a sign of some kind, almost imperceptible, between Kane and Reddie. As Wehying half turned in his swing to pitch, Reddie Ray bounded homeward. It was not so much the boldness of his action as the amazing swiftness of it that held the audience spellbound. Like a thunderbolt Reddie came down the line, almost beating Wehying's pitch to the plate. But Kane's bat intercepted the ball, laying it down, and Reddie scored without sliding. Dorr, by sharp work, just managed to throw Kane out.
Three runs so quick it was hard to tell how they had come. Not in the major league could there have been faster work. And the ball had been fielded perfectly and thrown perfectly.
``There you are,'' said Delaney, hoarsely. ``Can you beat it? If you've been wonderin' how the cripped Stars won so many games just put what you've seen in your pipe and smoke it. Red Gilbat gets on--Reddy Clammer gets on--and then Reddie Ray drives them home or chases them home.''
The game went on, and though it did not exactly drag it slowed down considerably. Morrissey and Healy were retired on infield plays. And the sides changed. For the Grays, O'Brien made a scratch hit, went to second on Strickland's sacrifice, stole third and scored on Mallory's infield out. Wehying missed three strikes. In the Stars' turn the three end players on the batting list were easily disposed of. In the third inning the clever Blake, aided by a base on balls and a hit following, tied the score, and once more struck fire and brimstone from the impatient bleachers. Providence was a town that had to have its team win.
``Git at 'em, Reds!'' said Delaney gruffly.
``Batter up!'' called Umpire Fuller, sharply.
``Where's Red? Where's the bug? Where's the nut? Delaney, did you lock the gates? Look under the bench!'' These and other remarks, not exactly elegant, attested to the mental processes of some of the Stars. Red Gilbat did not appear to be forthcoming. There was an anxious delay Capt. Healy searched for the missing player. Delaney did not say any more.
Suddenly a door under the grand stand opened and Red Gilbat appeared. He hurried for his bat and then up to the plate. And he never offered to hit one of the balls Wehying shot over. When Fuller had called the third strike Red hurried back to the door and disappeared.
``Somethin' doin','' whispered Delaney.
Lord Chesterfield Clammer paraded to the batter's box and, after gradually surveying the field, as if picking out the exact place he meant to drive the ball, he stepped to the plate. Then a roar from the bleachers surprised him.
``Well, I'll be dog-goned!'' exclaimed Delaney. ``Red stole that sure as shootin'.''
Red Gilbat was pushing a brand-new baby carriage toward the batter's box. There was a tittering in the grand stand; another roar from the bleachers. Clammer's face turned as red as his hair. Gilbat shoved the baby carriage upon the plate, spread wide his long arms, made a short presentation speech and an elaborate bow, then backed away.
All eyes were centered on Clammer. If he had taken it right the incident might have passed without undue hilarity. But Clammer became absolutely wild with rage. It was well known that he was unmarried. Equally well was it seen that Gilbat had executed one of his famous tricks. Ball players were inclined to be dignified about the presentation of gifts upon the field, and Clammer, the dude, the swell, the lady's man, the favorite of the baseball gods--in his own estimation-- so far lost control of himself that he threw his bat at his retreating tormentor. Red jumped high and the bat skipped along the ground toward the bench. The players sidestepped and leaped and, of course, the bat cracked one of Delaney's big shins. His eyes popped with pain, but he could not stop laughing. One by one the players lay down and rolled over and yelled. The superior Clammer was not overliked by his co- players.
From the grand stand floated the laughter of ladies and gentlemen. And from the bleachers-- that throne of the biting, ironic, scornful fans-- pealed up a howl of delight. It lasted for a full minute. Then, as quiet ensued, some boy blew a blast of one of those infernal little instruments of pipe and rubber balloon, and over the field wailed out a shrill, high-keyed cry, an excellent imitation of a baby. Whereupon the whole audience roared, and in discomfiture Reddy Clammer went in search of his bat.
To make his chagrin all the worse he ingloriously struck out. And then he strode away under the lea of the grand-stand wall toward right field.
Reddie Ray went to bat and, with the infield playing deep and the outfield swung still farther round to the right, he bunted a little teasing ball down the third-base line. Like a flash of light he had crossed first base before Hanley got his hands on the ball. Then Kane hit into second base, forcing Reddie out.
Again the game assumed less spectacular and more ordinary play. Both Scott and Wehying held the batters safely and allowed no runs. But in the fifth inning, with the Stars at bat and two out, Red Gilbat again electrified the field. He sprang up from somewhere and walked to the plate, his long shape enfolded in a full-length linen duster. The color and style of this garment might not have been especially striking, but upon Red it had a weird and wonderful effect. Evidently Red intended to bat while arrayed in his long coat, for he stepped into the box and faced the pitcher. Capt. Healy yelled for him to take the duster off. Likewise did the Grays yell.
The bleachers shrieked their disapproval. To say the least, Red Gilbat's crazy assurance was dampening to the ardor of the most blindly confident fans. At length Umpire Fuller waved his hand, enjoining silence and calling time.
``Take it off or I'll fine you.''
From his lofty height Gilbat gazed down upon the little umpire, and it was plain what he thought.
``What do I care for money!'' replied Red.
``That costs you twenty-five,'' said Fuller.
``Cigarette change!'' yelled Red.
``Costs you fifty.''
``Bah! Go to an eye doctor,'' roared Red.
``Seventy-five,'' added Fuller, imperturbably.
``Make it a hundred!''
``It's two hundred.''
``ROB-B-BER!'' bawled Red.
Fuller showed willingness to overlook Red's back talk as well as costume, and he called, ``Play!''
There was a mounting sensation of prophetic certainty. Old fox Wehying appeared nervous. He wasted two balls on Red; then he put one over the plate, and then he wasted another. Three balls and one strike! That was a bad place for a pitcher, and with Red Gilbat up it was worse. Wehying swung longer and harder to get all his left behind the throw and let drive. Red lunged and cracked the ball. It went up and up and kept going up and farther out, and as the murmuring audience was slowly transfixed into late realization the ball soared to its height and dropped beyond the left-field fence. A home run!
Red Gilbat gathered up the tails of his duster, after the manner of a neat woman crossing a muddy street, and ambled down to first base and on to second, making prodigious jumps upon the bags, and round third, to come down the home- stretch wagging his red head. Then he stood on the plate, and, as if to exact revenge from the audience for the fun they made of him, he threw back his shoulders and bellowed: ``HAW! HAW! HAW!''
Not a handclap greeted him, but some mindless, exceedingly adventurous fan yelled: ``Redhead! Redhead! Redhead!''
That was the one thing calculated to rouse Red Gilbat. He seemed to flare, to bristle, and he paced for the bleachers.
Delaney looked as if he might have a stroke. ``Grab him! Soak him with a bat! Somebody grab him!''
But none of the Stars was risking so much, and Gilbat, to the howling derision of the gleeful fans, reached the bleachers. He stretched his long arms up to the fence and prepared to vault over. ``Where's the guy who called me redhead?'' he yelled.
That was heaping fuel on the fire. From all over the bleachers, from everywhere, came the obnoxious word. Red heaved himself over the fence and piled into the fans.
Reddie got to his feet amid a rather breathless silence. Even the coachers were quiet. There was a moment of relaxation, then Wehying received the ball from Hanley and faced the batter.
This was Dump Kane. There was a sign of some kind, almost imperceptible, between Kane and Reddie. As Wehying half turned in his swing to pitch, Reddie Ray bounded homeward. It was not so much the boldness of his action as the amazing swiftness of it that held the audience spellbound. Like a thunderbolt Reddie came down the line, almost beating Wehying's pitch to the plate. But Kane's bat intercepted the ball, laying it down, and Reddie scored without sliding. Dorr, by sharp work, just managed to throw Kane out.
Three runs so quick it was hard to tell how they had come. Not in the major league could there have been faster work. And the ball had been fielded perfectly and thrown perfectly.
``There you are,'' said Delaney, hoarsely. ``Can you beat it? If you've been wonderin' how the cripped Stars won so many games just put what you've seen in your pipe and smoke it. Red Gilbat gets on--Reddy Clammer gets on--and then Reddie Ray drives them home or chases them home.''
The game went on, and though it did not exactly drag it slowed down considerably. Morrissey and Healy were retired on infield plays. And the sides changed. For the Grays, O'Brien made a scratch hit, went to second on Strickland's sacrifice, stole third and scored on Mallory's infield out. Wehying missed three strikes. In the Stars' turn the three end players on the batting list were easily disposed of. In the third inning the clever Blake, aided by a base on balls and a hit following, tied the score, and once more struck fire and brimstone from the impatient bleachers. Providence was a town that had to have its team win.
``Git at 'em, Reds!'' said Delaney gruffly.
``Batter up!'' called Umpire Fuller, sharply.
``Where's Red? Where's the bug? Where's the nut? Delaney, did you lock the gates? Look under the bench!'' These and other remarks, not exactly elegant, attested to the mental processes of some of the Stars. Red Gilbat did not appear to be forthcoming. There was an anxious delay Capt. Healy searched for the missing player. Delaney did not say any more.
Suddenly a door under the grand stand opened and Red Gilbat appeared. He hurried for his bat and then up to the plate. And he never offered to hit one of the balls Wehying shot over. When Fuller had called the third strike Red hurried back to the door and disappeared.
``Somethin' doin','' whispered Delaney.
Lord Chesterfield Clammer paraded to the batter's box and, after gradually surveying the field, as if picking out the exact place he meant to drive the ball, he stepped to the plate. Then a roar from the bleachers surprised him.
``Well, I'll be dog-goned!'' exclaimed Delaney. ``Red stole that sure as shootin'.''
Red Gilbat was pushing a brand-new baby carriage toward the batter's box. There was a tittering in the grand stand; another roar from the bleachers. Clammer's face turned as red as his hair. Gilbat shoved the baby carriage upon the plate, spread wide his long arms, made a short presentation speech and an elaborate bow, then backed away.
All eyes were centered on Clammer. If he had taken it right the incident might have passed without undue hilarity. But Clammer became absolutely wild with rage. It was well known that he was unmarried. Equally well was it seen that Gilbat had executed one of his famous tricks. Ball players were inclined to be dignified about the presentation of gifts upon the field, and Clammer, the dude, the swell, the lady's man, the favorite of the baseball gods--in his own estimation-- so far lost control of himself that he threw his bat at his retreating tormentor. Red jumped high and the bat skipped along the ground toward the bench. The players sidestepped and leaped and, of course, the bat cracked one of Delaney's big shins. His eyes popped with pain, but he could not stop laughing. One by one the players lay down and rolled over and yelled. The superior Clammer was not overliked by his co- players.
From the grand stand floated the laughter of ladies and gentlemen. And from the bleachers-- that throne of the biting, ironic, scornful fans-- pealed up a howl of delight. It lasted for a full minute. Then, as quiet ensued, some boy blew a blast of one of those infernal little instruments of pipe and rubber balloon, and over the field wailed out a shrill, high-keyed cry, an excellent imitation of a baby. Whereupon the whole audience roared, and in discomfiture Reddy Clammer went in search of his bat.
To make his chagrin all the worse he ingloriously struck out. And then he strode away under the lea of the grand-stand wall toward right field.
Reddie Ray went to bat and, with the infield playing deep and the outfield swung still farther round to the right, he bunted a little teasing ball down the third-base line. Like a flash of light he had crossed first base before Hanley got his hands on the ball. Then Kane hit into second base, forcing Reddie out.
Again the game assumed less spectacular and more ordinary play. Both Scott and Wehying held the batters safely and allowed no runs. But in the fifth inning, with the Stars at bat and two out, Red Gilbat again electrified the field. He sprang up from somewhere and walked to the plate, his long shape enfolded in a full-length linen duster. The color and style of this garment might not have been especially striking, but upon Red it had a weird and wonderful effect. Evidently Red intended to bat while arrayed in his long coat, for he stepped into the box and faced the pitcher. Capt. Healy yelled for him to take the duster off. Likewise did the Grays yell.
The bleachers shrieked their disapproval. To say the least, Red Gilbat's crazy assurance was dampening to the ardor of the most blindly confident fans. At length Umpire Fuller waved his hand, enjoining silence and calling time.
``Take it off or I'll fine you.''
From his lofty height Gilbat gazed down upon the little umpire, and it was plain what he thought.
``What do I care for money!'' replied Red.
``That costs you twenty-five,'' said Fuller.
``Cigarette change!'' yelled Red.
``Costs you fifty.''
``Bah! Go to an eye doctor,'' roared Red.
``Seventy-five,'' added Fuller, imperturbably.
``Make it a hundred!''
``It's two hundred.''
``ROB-B-BER!'' bawled Red.
Fuller showed willingness to overlook Red's back talk as well as costume, and he called, ``Play!''
There was a mounting sensation of prophetic certainty. Old fox Wehying appeared nervous. He wasted two balls on Red; then he put one over the plate, and then he wasted another. Three balls and one strike! That was a bad place for a pitcher, and with Red Gilbat up it was worse. Wehying swung longer and harder to get all his left behind the throw and let drive. Red lunged and cracked the ball. It went up and up and kept going up and farther out, and as the murmuring audience was slowly transfixed into late realization the ball soared to its height and dropped beyond the left-field fence. A home run!
Red Gilbat gathered up the tails of his duster, after the manner of a neat woman crossing a muddy street, and ambled down to first base and on to second, making prodigious jumps upon the bags, and round third, to come down the home- stretch wagging his red head. Then he stood on the plate, and, as if to exact revenge from the audience for the fun they made of him, he threw back his shoulders and bellowed: ``HAW! HAW! HAW!''
Not a handclap greeted him, but some mindless, exceedingly adventurous fan yelled: ``Redhead! Redhead! Redhead!''
That was the one thing calculated to rouse Red Gilbat. He seemed to flare, to bristle, and he paced for the bleachers.
Delaney looked as if he might have a stroke. ``Grab him! Soak him with a bat! Somebody grab him!''
But none of the Stars was risking so much, and Gilbat, to the howling derision of the gleeful fans, reached the bleachers. He stretched his long arms up to the fence and prepared to vault over. ``Where's the guy who called me redhead?'' he yelled.
That was heaping fuel on the fire. From all over the bleachers, from everywhere, came the obnoxious word. Red heaved himself over the fence and piled into the fans.
Then
followed the roar of many voices, the tramping of many feet, the
pressing forward of line after line of shirt- sleeved men and boys.
That bleacher stand suddenly assumed the maelstrom appearance of a
surging mob round an agitated center. In a moment all the players
rushed down the field, and confusion reigned.
``Oh! Oh! Oh!'' moaned Delaney.
However, the game had to go on. Delaney, no doubt, felt all was over. Nevertheless there were games occasionally that seemed an unending series of unprecedented events. This one had begun admirably to break a record. And the Providence fans, like all other fans, had cultivated an appetite as the game proceeded. They were wild to put the other redheads out of the field or at least out for the inning, wild to tie the score, wild to win and wilder than all for more excitement. Clammer hit safely. But when Reddie Ray lined to the second baseman, Clammer, having taken a lead, was doubled up in the play.
Of course, the sixth inning opened with the Stars playing only eight men. There was another delay. Probably everybody except Delaney and perhaps Healy had forgotten the Stars were short a man. Fuller called time. The impatient bleachers barked for action.
Capt. White came over to Delaney and courteously offered to lend a player for the remaining innings. Then a pompous individual came out of the door leading from the press boxes--he was a director Delaney disliked.
``Guess you'd better let Fuller call the game,'' he said brusquely.
``If you want to--as the score stands now in our favor,'' replied Delaney.
``Not on your life! It'll be ours or else we'll play it out and beat you to death.''
He departed in high dudgeon.
``Tell Reddie to swing over a little toward left,'' was Delaney's order to Healy. Fire gleamed in the manager's eye.
Fuller called play then, with Reddy Clammer and Reddie Ray composing the Star outfield. And the Grays evidently prepared to do great execution through the wide lanes thus opened up. At that stage it would not have been like matured ball players to try to crop hits down into the infield.
White sent a long fly back of Clammer. Reddy had no time to loaf on this hit. It was all he could do to reach it and he made a splendid catch, for which the crowd roundly applauded him. That applause was wine to Reddy Clammer. He began to prance on his toes and sing out to Scott: ``Make 'em hit to me, old man! Make 'em hit to me!'' Whether Scott desired that or not was scarcely possible to say; at any rate, Hanley pounded a hit through the infield. And Clammer, prancing high in the air like a check-reined horse, ran to intercept the ball. He could have received it in his hands, but that would never have served Reddy Clammer. He timed the hit to a nicety, went down with his old grand-stand play and blocked the ball with his anatomy. Delaney swore. And the bleachers, now warm toward the gallant outfielder, lustily cheered him. Babcock hit down the right-field foul line, giving Clammer a long run. Hanley was scoring and Babcock was sprinting for third base when Reddy got the ball. He had a fine arm and he made a hard and accurate throw, catching his man in a close play.
Perhaps even Delaney could not have found any fault with that play. But the aftermath spoiled the thing. Clammer now rode the air; he soared; he was in the clouds; it was his inning and he had utterly forgotten his team mates, except inasmuch as they were performing mere little automatic movements to direct the great machinery in his direction for his sole achievement and glory.
There is fate in baseball as well as in other walks of life. O'Brien was a strapping fellow and he lifted another ball into Clammer's wide territory. The hit was of the high and far-away variety. Clammer started to run with it, not like a grim outfielder, but like one thinking of himself, his style, his opportunity, his inevitable success. Certain it was that in thinking of himself the outfielder forgot his surroundings. He ran across the foul line, head up, hair flying, unheeding the warning cry from Healy. And, reaching up to make his crowning circus play, he smashed face forward into the bleachers fence. Then, limp as a rag, he dropped. The audience sent forth a long groan of sympathy.
``That wasn't one of his stage falls,'' said Delaney. ``I'll bet he's dead. . . . Poor Reddy! And I want him to bust his face!''
Clammer was carried off the field into the dressing room and a physician was summoned out of the audience.
``Cap., what'd it--do to him?'' asked Delaney.
``Aw, spoiled his pretty mug, that's all,'' replied Healy, scornfully. ``Mebee he'll listen to me now.''
Delaney's change was characteristic of the man. ``Well, if it didn't kill him I'm blamed glad he got it. . . . Cap, we can trim 'em yet. Reddie Ray'll play the whole outfield. Give Reddie a chance to run! Tell the boy to cut loose. And all of you git in the game. Win or lose, I won't forget it. I've a hunch. Once in a while I can tell what's comin' off. Some queer game this! And we're goin' to win. Gilbat lost the game; Clammer throwed it away again, and now Reddie Ray's due to win it. . . . I'm all in, but I wouldn't miss the finish to save my life.''
Delaney's deep presaging sense of baseball events was never put to a greater test. And the seven Stars, with the score tied, exhibited the temper and timber of a championship team in the last ditch. It was so splendid that almost instantly it caught the antagonistic bleachers.
Wherever the tired Scott found renewed strength and speed was a mystery. But he struck out the hard-hitting Providence catcher and that made the third out. The Stars could not score in their half of the inning. Likewise the seventh inning passed without a run for either side; only the infield work of the Stars was something superb. When the eighth inning ended, without a tally for either team, the excitement grew tense. There was Reddy Ray playing outfield alone, and the Grays with all their desperate endeavors had not lifted the ball out of the infield.
But in the ninth, Blake, the first man up, lined low toward right center. The hit was safe and looked good for three bases. No one looking, however, had calculated on Reddie's Ray's fleetness. He covered ground and dove for the bounding ball and knocked it down. Blake did not get beyond first base. The crowd cheered the play equally with the prospect of a run. Dorr bunted and beat the throw. White hit one of the high fast balls Scott was serving and sent it close to the left-field foul line. The running Reddie Ray made on that play held White at second base. But two runs had scored with no one out.
Hanley, the fourth left-handed hitter, came up and Scott pitched to him as he had to the others --high fast balls over the inside corner of the plate. Reddy Ray's position was some fifty yards behind deep short, and a little toward center field. He stood sideways, facing two-thirds of that vacant outfield. In spite of Scott's skill, Hanley swung the ball far round into right field, but he hit it high, and almost before he actually hit it the great sprinter was speeding across the green.
The suspence grew almost unbearable as the ball soared in its parabolic flight and the red- haired runner streaked dark across the green. The ball seemed never to be coming down. And when it began to descend and reached a point perhaps fifty feet above the ground there appeared more distance between where it would alight and where Reddie was than anything human could cover. It dropped and dropped, and then dropped into Reddie Ray's outstretched hands. He had made the catch look easy. But the fact that White scored from second base on the play showed what the catch really was.
There was no movement or restlessness of the audience such as usually indicated the beginning of the exodus. Scott struck Babcock out. The game still had fire. The Grays never let up a moment on their coaching. And the hoarse voices of the Stars were grimmer than ever. Reddie Ray was the only one of the seven who kept silent. And he crouched like a tiger.
The teams changed sides with the Grays three runs in the lead. Morrissey, for the Stars, opened with a clean drive to right. Then Healy slashed a ground ball to Hanley and nearly knocked him down. When old Burns, by a hard rap to short, advanced the runners a base and made a desperate, though unsuccessful, effort to reach first the Providence crowd awoke to a strange and inspiring appreciation. They began that most rare feature in baseball audiences--a strong and trenchant call for the visiting team to win.
The play had gone fast and furious. Wehying, sweaty and disheveled, worked violently. All the Grays were on uneasy tiptoes. And the Stars were seven Indians on the warpath. Halloran fouled down the right-field line; then he fouled over the left-field fence. Wehying tried to make him too anxious, but it was in vain. Halloran was implacable. With two strikes and three balls he hit straight down to white, and was out. The ball had been so sharp that neither runner on base had a chance to advance.
Two men out, two on base, Stars wanting three runs to tie, Scott, a weak batter, at the plate! The situation was disheartening. Yet there sat Delaney, shot through and through with some vital compelling force. He saw only victory. And when the very first ball pitched to Scott hit him on the leg, giving him his base, Delaney got to his feet, unsteady and hoarse.
Bases full, Reddie Ray up, three runs to tie!
Delaney looked at Reddie. And Reddie looked at Delaney. The manager's face was pale, intent, with a little smile. The player had eyes of fire, a lean, bulging jaw and the hands he reached for his bat clutched like talons.
``Reddie, I knew it was waitin' for you,'' said Delaney, his voice ringing. ``Break up the game!''
After all this was
``Oh! Oh! Oh!'' moaned Delaney.
However, the game had to go on. Delaney, no doubt, felt all was over. Nevertheless there were games occasionally that seemed an unending series of unprecedented events. This one had begun admirably to break a record. And the Providence fans, like all other fans, had cultivated an appetite as the game proceeded. They were wild to put the other redheads out of the field or at least out for the inning, wild to tie the score, wild to win and wilder than all for more excitement. Clammer hit safely. But when Reddie Ray lined to the second baseman, Clammer, having taken a lead, was doubled up in the play.
Of course, the sixth inning opened with the Stars playing only eight men. There was another delay. Probably everybody except Delaney and perhaps Healy had forgotten the Stars were short a man. Fuller called time. The impatient bleachers barked for action.
Capt. White came over to Delaney and courteously offered to lend a player for the remaining innings. Then a pompous individual came out of the door leading from the press boxes--he was a director Delaney disliked.
``Guess you'd better let Fuller call the game,'' he said brusquely.
``If you want to--as the score stands now in our favor,'' replied Delaney.
``Not on your life! It'll be ours or else we'll play it out and beat you to death.''
He departed in high dudgeon.
``Tell Reddie to swing over a little toward left,'' was Delaney's order to Healy. Fire gleamed in the manager's eye.
Fuller called play then, with Reddy Clammer and Reddie Ray composing the Star outfield. And the Grays evidently prepared to do great execution through the wide lanes thus opened up. At that stage it would not have been like matured ball players to try to crop hits down into the infield.
White sent a long fly back of Clammer. Reddy had no time to loaf on this hit. It was all he could do to reach it and he made a splendid catch, for which the crowd roundly applauded him. That applause was wine to Reddy Clammer. He began to prance on his toes and sing out to Scott: ``Make 'em hit to me, old man! Make 'em hit to me!'' Whether Scott desired that or not was scarcely possible to say; at any rate, Hanley pounded a hit through the infield. And Clammer, prancing high in the air like a check-reined horse, ran to intercept the ball. He could have received it in his hands, but that would never have served Reddy Clammer. He timed the hit to a nicety, went down with his old grand-stand play and blocked the ball with his anatomy. Delaney swore. And the bleachers, now warm toward the gallant outfielder, lustily cheered him. Babcock hit down the right-field foul line, giving Clammer a long run. Hanley was scoring and Babcock was sprinting for third base when Reddy got the ball. He had a fine arm and he made a hard and accurate throw, catching his man in a close play.
Perhaps even Delaney could not have found any fault with that play. But the aftermath spoiled the thing. Clammer now rode the air; he soared; he was in the clouds; it was his inning and he had utterly forgotten his team mates, except inasmuch as they were performing mere little automatic movements to direct the great machinery in his direction for his sole achievement and glory.
There is fate in baseball as well as in other walks of life. O'Brien was a strapping fellow and he lifted another ball into Clammer's wide territory. The hit was of the high and far-away variety. Clammer started to run with it, not like a grim outfielder, but like one thinking of himself, his style, his opportunity, his inevitable success. Certain it was that in thinking of himself the outfielder forgot his surroundings. He ran across the foul line, head up, hair flying, unheeding the warning cry from Healy. And, reaching up to make his crowning circus play, he smashed face forward into the bleachers fence. Then, limp as a rag, he dropped. The audience sent forth a long groan of sympathy.
``That wasn't one of his stage falls,'' said Delaney. ``I'll bet he's dead. . . . Poor Reddy! And I want him to bust his face!''
Clammer was carried off the field into the dressing room and a physician was summoned out of the audience.
``Cap., what'd it--do to him?'' asked Delaney.
``Aw, spoiled his pretty mug, that's all,'' replied Healy, scornfully. ``Mebee he'll listen to me now.''
Delaney's change was characteristic of the man. ``Well, if it didn't kill him I'm blamed glad he got it. . . . Cap, we can trim 'em yet. Reddie Ray'll play the whole outfield. Give Reddie a chance to run! Tell the boy to cut loose. And all of you git in the game. Win or lose, I won't forget it. I've a hunch. Once in a while I can tell what's comin' off. Some queer game this! And we're goin' to win. Gilbat lost the game; Clammer throwed it away again, and now Reddie Ray's due to win it. . . . I'm all in, but I wouldn't miss the finish to save my life.''
Delaney's deep presaging sense of baseball events was never put to a greater test. And the seven Stars, with the score tied, exhibited the temper and timber of a championship team in the last ditch. It was so splendid that almost instantly it caught the antagonistic bleachers.
Wherever the tired Scott found renewed strength and speed was a mystery. But he struck out the hard-hitting Providence catcher and that made the third out. The Stars could not score in their half of the inning. Likewise the seventh inning passed without a run for either side; only the infield work of the Stars was something superb. When the eighth inning ended, without a tally for either team, the excitement grew tense. There was Reddy Ray playing outfield alone, and the Grays with all their desperate endeavors had not lifted the ball out of the infield.
But in the ninth, Blake, the first man up, lined low toward right center. The hit was safe and looked good for three bases. No one looking, however, had calculated on Reddie's Ray's fleetness. He covered ground and dove for the bounding ball and knocked it down. Blake did not get beyond first base. The crowd cheered the play equally with the prospect of a run. Dorr bunted and beat the throw. White hit one of the high fast balls Scott was serving and sent it close to the left-field foul line. The running Reddie Ray made on that play held White at second base. But two runs had scored with no one out.
Hanley, the fourth left-handed hitter, came up and Scott pitched to him as he had to the others --high fast balls over the inside corner of the plate. Reddy Ray's position was some fifty yards behind deep short, and a little toward center field. He stood sideways, facing two-thirds of that vacant outfield. In spite of Scott's skill, Hanley swung the ball far round into right field, but he hit it high, and almost before he actually hit it the great sprinter was speeding across the green.
The suspence grew almost unbearable as the ball soared in its parabolic flight and the red- haired runner streaked dark across the green. The ball seemed never to be coming down. And when it began to descend and reached a point perhaps fifty feet above the ground there appeared more distance between where it would alight and where Reddie was than anything human could cover. It dropped and dropped, and then dropped into Reddie Ray's outstretched hands. He had made the catch look easy. But the fact that White scored from second base on the play showed what the catch really was.
There was no movement or restlessness of the audience such as usually indicated the beginning of the exodus. Scott struck Babcock out. The game still had fire. The Grays never let up a moment on their coaching. And the hoarse voices of the Stars were grimmer than ever. Reddie Ray was the only one of the seven who kept silent. And he crouched like a tiger.
The teams changed sides with the Grays three runs in the lead. Morrissey, for the Stars, opened with a clean drive to right. Then Healy slashed a ground ball to Hanley and nearly knocked him down. When old Burns, by a hard rap to short, advanced the runners a base and made a desperate, though unsuccessful, effort to reach first the Providence crowd awoke to a strange and inspiring appreciation. They began that most rare feature in baseball audiences--a strong and trenchant call for the visiting team to win.
The play had gone fast and furious. Wehying, sweaty and disheveled, worked violently. All the Grays were on uneasy tiptoes. And the Stars were seven Indians on the warpath. Halloran fouled down the right-field line; then he fouled over the left-field fence. Wehying tried to make him too anxious, but it was in vain. Halloran was implacable. With two strikes and three balls he hit straight down to white, and was out. The ball had been so sharp that neither runner on base had a chance to advance.
Two men out, two on base, Stars wanting three runs to tie, Scott, a weak batter, at the plate! The situation was disheartening. Yet there sat Delaney, shot through and through with some vital compelling force. He saw only victory. And when the very first ball pitched to Scott hit him on the leg, giving him his base, Delaney got to his feet, unsteady and hoarse.
Bases full, Reddie Ray up, three runs to tie!
Delaney looked at Reddie. And Reddie looked at Delaney. The manager's face was pale, intent, with a little smile. The player had eyes of fire, a lean, bulging jaw and the hands he reached for his bat clutched like talons.
``Reddie, I knew it was waitin' for you,'' said Delaney, his voice ringing. ``Break up the game!''
After all this was
only
a baseball game, and perhaps from the fans' viewpoint a poor game at
that. But the moment when that lithe, redhaired athlete toed the
plate was a beautiful one. The long crash from the bleachers, the
steady cheer from the grand stand, proved that it was not so much the
game that mattered.
Wehying had shot his bolt; he was tired. Yet he made ready for a final effort. It seemed that passing Reddie Ray on balls would have been a wise play at that juncture. But no pitcher, probably, would have done it with the bases crowded and chances, of course, against the batter.
Clean and swift, Reddie leaped at the first pitched ball. Ping! For a second no one saw the hit. Then it gleamed, a terrific drive, low along the ground, like a bounding bullet, straight at Babcock in right field. It struck his hands and glanced viciously away to roll toward the fence.
Thunder broke loose from the stands. Reddie Ray was turning first base. Beyond first base he got into his wonderful stride. Some runners run with a consistent speed, the best they can make for a given distance. But this trained sprinter gathered speed as he ran. He was no short-stepping runner. His strides were long. They gave an impression of strength combined with fleetness. He had the speed of a race horse, but the trimness, the raciness, the delicate legs were not characteristic of him. Like the wind he turned second, so powerful that his turn was short. All at once there came a difference in his running. It was no longer beautiful. The grace was gone. It was now fierce, violent. His momentum was running him off his legs. He whirled around third base and came hurtling down the homestretch. His face was convulsed, his eyes were wild. His arms and legs worked in a marvelous muscular velocity. He seemed a demon--a flying streak. He overtook and ran down the laboring Scott, who had almost reached the plate.
The park seemed full of shrill, piercing strife. It swelled, reached a highest pitch, sustained that for a long moment, and then declined.
``My Gawd!'' exclaimed Delaney, as he fell back. ``Wasn't that a finish? Didn't I tell you to watch them redheads!''
Wehying had shot his bolt; he was tired. Yet he made ready for a final effort. It seemed that passing Reddie Ray on balls would have been a wise play at that juncture. But no pitcher, probably, would have done it with the bases crowded and chances, of course, against the batter.
Clean and swift, Reddie leaped at the first pitched ball. Ping! For a second no one saw the hit. Then it gleamed, a terrific drive, low along the ground, like a bounding bullet, straight at Babcock in right field. It struck his hands and glanced viciously away to roll toward the fence.
Thunder broke loose from the stands. Reddie Ray was turning first base. Beyond first base he got into his wonderful stride. Some runners run with a consistent speed, the best they can make for a given distance. But this trained sprinter gathered speed as he ran. He was no short-stepping runner. His strides were long. They gave an impression of strength combined with fleetness. He had the speed of a race horse, but the trimness, the raciness, the delicate legs were not characteristic of him. Like the wind he turned second, so powerful that his turn was short. All at once there came a difference in his running. It was no longer beautiful. The grace was gone. It was now fierce, violent. His momentum was running him off his legs. He whirled around third base and came hurtling down the homestretch. His face was convulsed, his eyes were wild. His arms and legs worked in a marvelous muscular velocity. He seemed a demon--a flying streak. He overtook and ran down the laboring Scott, who had almost reached the plate.
The park seemed full of shrill, piercing strife. It swelled, reached a highest pitch, sustained that for a long moment, and then declined.
``My Gawd!'' exclaimed Delaney, as he fell back. ``Wasn't that a finish? Didn't I tell you to watch them redheads!''
Friday, October 3, 2014
High Paying Jobs! People Under 60 Need Not Apply!
by Bill Russo
 |
| Come to work for me! You get paid by your age. If you are 65 you will get 65K per year. If you are 85, you get 85 Thousand a year. |
When you are old, please do not try to get a "Real Job".
There's nothing out there for you except embarrassment and maybe pity. American companies don’t want you working for them. They won’t come right out and say it…but you will get the idea when the application says..................
What year did you graduate from high school?:
then there is a list and you are supposed to check off your year of graduation…You look down the list….
2005
2004
2003
2002
---Nope go back a little more----
1995
1994
1993
Nope, go further
1983
1982
------No…go further down
1979
1978
…So you keep laddering down that list until finally it terminates at 1975.
I guess that’s a pretty good clue they don’t want anybody who graduated before 1975.
Well, I’m not going to sit around and gripe about this discrimination against my fellow senior citizens!
I have decided I’m going to buy a huge company and I’m only going to hire old people. You’ll have to be at least 60 to come work for me. If you're over 80..there will be an immediate vice presidency for you!!!!!
Now when I buy this company there probably will be some young people working there so I’ll have to get rid of them. I can’t just fire them - that would be age discrimination .
I’m going to make them feel so unwelcome that they will quit.
The first thing I’m going to do is eliminate all coffee breaks….no more coffee breaks. Instead, we’ll take Naps!
At 10 o’clock every morning and again at 3:00 in the afternoon, I’ll announce over the P.A. system..............................
“Okay everybody…it’s nap time. Time to lay down and relax and catch a few winks. I’ll call you in 30 minutes..”
 |
| I will put these folks to work right away. Gray Hair Gets a Bonus!!! |
It will be a company rule that anybody caught drinking coffee during nap time, will be fired.
That should get rid of a lot of the whippersnappers…probably fifty per cent. .But for the stubborn ones who survive the nap rule, I’ll swing into Plan B.
Under plan B, I’ll modify all the bathrooms by removing any items like Sanitary napkin or condom dispensers……and I will replace them with special dispensers of “Depends”. …………….and I think I can depend on “Depends” to get rid of another forty percent of the Young people.
As you have probably already figured out…that still leaves me with a tough ten per cent of young fogies that I will have to get rid of.
I HAVE A PLAN 'C'
.
This is the Mother of all plans. It’s the nuclear bomb of cunning schemes.
Here’s what I’m going to do.
I’m going to go to the pharmacy and buy 350 tubes of Ben Gay. And then
I am going to smear Ben Gay over all the desks, slap it on the walls and even the floors. I will smudge it on the telephones and even slather it all over the toilets.
There will be BEN GAY everywhere! Those youngsters will walk in and turn up their noses in horror!
“I’m getting out of here."
"I Quit,” they’ll say..............
“I can’t work here, it smells just like grandma’s house!.”
Advice from the Cape Cod Cat Lady
From the Cape Cod Cat Lady, who had a store in Hyannis until her retirement - Here are a few articles on cats and cat care. Do Cats love you? Or are they just using you?
A lot of 'experts' say that cats are strictly independent and aloof. They claim that cats have chosen to be with humans simply as a strategy of survival. Some people agree with this position, but most cat owners know that it is a bunch of B...S..T.
At her store, the Cat Lady had several cats in house, that would mingle with the customers. One in particular, a little red haired cat named Henry; was so loveable that he would wrap himself around people's shoulders, like a live 'mink stole'.
The iconic 'Cat Country' store left Hyannis almost ten years ago, but Henry lives on in retirement in a house on a quiet lane not far from Main Street. He is still a 'love bug' and still is friendly to everyone he meets.
Henry is an exception because many cats, and perhaps even most of them, like to bond with just one or two people. Anyone who has owned a cat will tell you that cats are great at bonding with people, although they are very particular.
Normally, a cat will choose someone in the home that he bonds with. You’ll know when a cat wants to bond with you, as he will hop on your lap seeking attention or snuggle up to you at night when you are sleeping. Purring is a strong sign of affection, especially with cats that are looking to bond.
No one really knows why cats choose a particular person with whom to bond. It could be manners, voice, or simply how the individual treats the cat.
Some researchers try to ascribe a mystical element to feline attraction to people. They say that a cat may bond with someone who gives off a certain 'pyschic aura' that is in alignment with the cat. The plain truth is, cats are very intelligent. They can tell if a person does not like cats and will steer clear of such an individual.
One thing everyone agrees on. Cats are different from other animals. Your cat may love you every bit as much as your dog; but will demonstrate it differently. Purring and lap sitting are two examples by which cats show their owners love.
Those who are new to cats may find bonding to be very different. The more time you spend with a cat, the deeper the bond gets. Over time, people find that their friendship with a cat is every bit as deep as the one they have with their canine friends.
If only your cat had an Iphone.................
Think what a great world it would be if cats communicated with cell phones. Life would be a lot more pleasant for cat owners, but sadly the felines of the world talk to each other in a smelly way. They spray. They spray seemingly everywhere. The Cape Cod Cat Lady reports that spraying isn’t a litter box problem, but rather a problem with marking.
Cat urine that is sprayed contains pheromones, which is a substance that cats and other animals use for communicating. Pheromones are much like fingerprints with humans, as they are used to identify the cat to other animals.
When a cat sprays something, he is simply marking his territory through his urine. The spraying is the cat’s way of letting others know that the territory is his. Even though it may make you angry. Yelling at the cat will not help. It actually may worsen the problem.
Cats that are in heat are attracted to the odor of urine. For cats in heat, spraying is more or less an invitation for love. Often times cats that spray while in heat results in a litter of kittens that are born in just a few short months. Keep in mind that cats not only spray during heat, as some will also spray during encounters with other cats, or when they are feeling stressed.
Although spraying is a way of communicating for cats, the smell is horrible. Luckily, most cats will do a majority of their spraying outdoors. If you have an indoor cat that never goes outside, spraying can indeed be a problem. If you’ve noticed spraying in your home, you should take action and do something about it immediately.
The most effective and also the easiest way to stop spraying is to have your cat either neutered or spayed, which of course depends on the sex. Most male cats that have been neutered will stop spraying the same day they have the surgery.
For cat breeders, the spaying and neutering thing is not a viable option.
The best thing to do in this situation is to talk to your veterinarian. He or she, will be able to give you advice, and possibly even solve the problem without having surgery. There may be a medical problem present that is causing the problem, which your vet can identify.
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