They Were Nose Pickings

Perhaps it is mere happenstance that this song's praises have already been sung on this here blog, uh, thingy...

'Twas at a party, many years ago, when I heard a young lady make a disparaging remark about the Beach Boys. I struck my best Patrick Henry pose and declared, rather loudly, "I accept that challenge!" That, unfortunately, was not only far from my last non-sequitur of the evening, it was also far from the last time I was to say something that made everyone in the room all at once stop talking and give me a disapproving look. But that isn't the point of my story...

I made arrangements with the young lady for dinner and music at her place. I supplied the music. It was a carefully crafted cassette (I know, I know: How quaint, right? Well, at that time, it was... well, it was quaint then, too, come to think of it, but that isn't the point) designed to impress the Grateful Dead fan I knew her to be, which might make you wonder why I bothered... but those aren't the point.

It should surprise no-one who is at all familiar with the Beach Boys' more artsy or experimental stuff that the tape I'd made culminated (ruins domino) with a specially edited version of the song "Surf's Up." By the time it came on, she was well into a dream-like state of mind, sitting and swaying slightly to songs whose origins she'd all but forgotten until, in sync with the vocal, I leaned close and said in her ear, "Surf's up."

She stopped swaying. Her lips parted in a soft, slow-motion gasp. She turned her head and stared at the stereo for a moment, then slowly turned and looked at me, her face spreading into a wide, if somewhat wry, grin. I grinned a grin of my own and raised my eyebrows. She said, "I'll eat a wing, I'll eat a leg, but I refuse to eat the entire crow."

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It looks like I'll have to eat the entire crow.
Back in March, I posted my annual predictions for what was then the upcoming National League Baseball season. The title of the post was, "'Who Knows?' Pickings."

Clearly, I didn't know a damned thing. You can take my word for it, or you can go back and see for yourself just how stupid I was this year. It can be summed up this way: Every one --and I mean Every Single One-- of my playoff picks found some way to crash and burn. I chalked up a big, fat zero. Any credibility I may once have had is now gone, gone, gone.
Here's the breakdown...

East
My picks were....... NY, ATL, PHI, FLA, WAS.
Actual standings... PHI, NY, ATL, WAS, FLA.

Central
My picks were...... HOU, STL, MIL, CHI, PIT, CIN.
Actual standings... CHI, MIL, STL, HOU, CIN, PIT.

West
My picks were...... LA, SD, SF, AZ, CO.
Actual standings... AZ, CO, SD, LA, SF.

Additionally, I picked those Poo-holes from Saint Loo to outdistance the Padres, Braves and, further back, the Phillies for the wildcard. As you now know, the wildcard went to the Rockies.

I also spent the season on the Dodgers' bandwagon, honestly thinking that they were going to win the pennant.

When am I going to learn? Blue just won't do.

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P.S.... Bud "Just Won't Do" Selig must go.