I didn’t know much about either band at the time, but I came away much more of a DBT fan than a 97’s fan. Rhett Miller struck me as a bit of a show pony. Funny, though, the friend I was with who didn’t fall through the door said much the same thing, that they didn’t play enough Cooley songs.

The Wellmont, in Montclair. (Actually, come to think of it, I think it was two years ago.)

I saw DBT’s and Old 97’s at a theater in Jersey last winter. A friend of mine got so drunk he fell out the front door of the place. It was perfect.

I know, right? It’d never work.

Free, reliable health care, both mental and physical?

I would just like to hail you for your use of the term “splintered mop,” which I had never heard before but which is just perfect.

Stayed upstate last month for a wedding and - yep! - same thing. I couldn’t believe it. I don’t even smoke that much anymore, but I couldn’t not burn a couple in there. Just because I could.

He’s been there pretty much every day for the last twenty-five years. Who at this point that wants a Pete Rose autograph doesn’t have one?

What evidence is there that he actually went to the game?

Happy and satisfying, is my guess.

Basketball. Thud thud thud (pass) thud thud (pass)(pass) swish.
Thud thud thud (running running) thunk.

Fixed in favor of the smaller market? The one that just went to the Series last year?

The last thing in the world I thought I’d be reading at noon on an October Thursday was a gigantic profile of Bronson Arroyo, but damn if this wasn’t pretty spectactular. Nice work, Tom.

How much of that is just piss-poor management, though? I was there when they made the playoffs for the first time and people were going nuts, even though they were clearly going to get steamrolled by the Wings. I mean, C-Bus is always going to be a Buckeye town first and foremost, but it’s hard to sustain interest…

At a certain point you just have to tip your hat. His reaction time is just preternatural right now.

1. Baker
2. Gonzalez
3. Alou
4. Bernie Mac
5. Farnsworth
...
...
38. Bartman

Seriously. Left it behind years ago, once I realized I was bored stiff watching games sober, and never went back.

Shit, just read the title.

“I like baseball! Let’s have far less of it.”

They’re really not all that similar, other than that they nominally all write mysteries, but speaking as a fan of all three, Leonard’s easily my favorite. The man’s prose just swings.