Looking For Smed In All The Wrong Places

Back in the 80′s, with the proliferation of more and more brands of baseball cards, I decided to just focus on collecting Twins cards. When I did this, I set the following guidelines:

• only one of each card — no dupes
• starting with 1961 — no Senators
• major league only — no minor league cards unless they specifically say MN Twins
• no “extra-curicullar” cards (All-Star, post-season, World Baseball Classic, etc.) unless they specifically say MN Twins
• checklists or leader cards only if they specifically identify players as with the MM Twins

Let’s see how Smed (from Smed’s Baseball Card Blog) did with this latest package:

1. a couple of mid-90′s junk wax dupes; not a problem — I have two nephews that I share those with
2. minor league cards of Johnny Ard, Troy Buckley, and 1991 Portland Beavers AAA coaches — I don’t collect them, but I don’t turn them away either — I’ll stash those with the others
3. 1959 Washington Senators Roy Sievers; nice card of a really good player — trade bait, anyone interested?
4. 2011 Bowman GU of Kyle Gibson from the Futures Game; Twins 1^st-Rounder (and former Mizzou Tiger) out with Tommy John’s — well, son-of-a-gun, it says he’s with the Twins on the back, a keeper!
5. 2011 Bowman Chrome Purple Refractor of Madison Boer…nice!

Not a bad unsolicited shotgun package, all things considered.

clockwise, from top left: 2011 Bowman Chrome Draft Picks & Prospects #BDPP85 Madison Boer; 2011 Bowman Future Games Relic #FGR-KG Kyle Gibson (jersey); 1959 Topps #340 Roy Sievers; 1990 Best Orlando Sun Rays #23 Johnny Ard

Thanks, Smed — your check is in the mail return package will be on its way in the upcoming days.

Spookymilk Survivor X — Challenge #14: Struggling With Decline

As this week went on, the challenge title seemed to be an apt description of my writing. The challenge was to write up to 800 words about someone struggling with decline.

Once more, my current reading (The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest from the Millenium Trilogy) influenced my choice of subject:

At its Cold War heyday, MI5 was the premier counter-espionage and counter-terrorism machine. And we had top agents with a license to kill, for heaven’s sake — one of them was me! About the time I was hired, fresh out of the military, we had agents everywhere. I signed on during the tail end of Hollis’ term (sorry, Sir Roger Hollis’ term) as the Director General, and let me tell you, we had clout, and we had the money to get things done. When I needed to wine-and-dine four couples at the poshest club in Stockholm while other agents searched through their homes, why, by golly, we just did it! I did acquire quite the taste for the flavour of caviar. I can’t talk about anything specifically, you understand, but it was fascinating and sometimes dangerous work that took us to exotic places where we met up with some pretty nefarious characters. I loved it! And somehow in the middle of all this I managed to get married. Now, I’m no womanizer, but some of that goes with the job. I had ongoing relationships in Leningrad , Copenhagen , Mainz , Sao Paulo , uh, and Johannesburg . Ah, yes, Johannesburg … I was able to reach the upper echelons of the espionage game in the mid 80’s, but things had begun to go downhill in a hurry by then. The defense initiative in the States became so big that countries like England didn’t even try to keep up. Budgets were slashed, and many of our younger agents in the Service were let go. The money was no doubt going to “more important” items, like The Bennie Hill Show on the Beeb. And the damn bureaucrats had us pushing paper so much, I barely had the opportunity to brandish my Walther PPK at all any more. I made my last covert overseas trip during this time, and I got to watch The Wall fall in Berlin …from the eastern side, ha ha. In 1998, they took away our license to kill (and my Walther!), leaving us with only a license to lightly interrogate, at best. Bastards in Parliament had no clue the number of lives I’ve saved and state secrets I’ve secured, while they sat on their arses and debated the price of Earl Grey in Stropshire!. It was about this time that I slipped the disc in my back, probably due to inactivity, what with sitting behind a desk for so many hours a day. I could only work part-time then. Finally, in 2003, MI5 disappeared completely. The whole Security Service organization was folded into the Parking Violations Division of the Metropolitan Police. All the old chaps were either dead or gone. My dear wife Mathilda had also recently died as well. I couldn’t take it any longer, and I finally retired. The folks here running Elizabeth Lodge are okay, but damn stubborn about their No Alcohol policy, though. The next administration meeting will be my seventh attempt to get it overthrown. I sure hope my daughter brings the grandkids next time she visits me.

While I let down Team SPOILER ALERT! this time around, on the strength of Colin & Shawn, we actually had the high score this week. RESULTS. The judges’ take:

K: Putting James Bond in an old folks home is a pretty swell idea, but I had to infer in was Bond solely from the “licence to kill” crack, and didn’t get it from the feeling of his narration. I wish he’d still come off as suave and smartly manipulative. 1

DK: I’m not going to be surprised if I’m on my own in assessing this way, but despite the quantity of great jokes here (“license to lightly interrogate” is a favorite) this feels a little more like a recap of someone’s history than a story in his present, struggling state. It’s good, but it lacks some of the narrative momentum that many of the others have. 1

The sad thing is, this wasn’t about James Bond, only some generic MI5 higher-up. As the team standings go, there was no decline to go with the struggling this week, as it turns out.

Spookymilk Survivor X — Challenge #13: Seemingly Useless Superpower

Regardless of the outcome, this week’s Spookymilk Survivor writer’s challenge was entertaining.  My mission, should I choose to accept it (and I did): Write a story where a character has a seemingly useless superpower and must use it in a conflict (1000 word limit).

I had fun writing this, but we’ll see how much leeway the judges give me. The protagonist of the story doesn’t really have an entirely useless superpower, but it’s a previously deceased character that does. Yet the previously deceased character is not in the conflict in this story, but instead the attention is on the protagonist’s situation. And the fact that the focus of the story on the protagonist is somewhat ironic, in that…well, I’ll shut up and let you read it first:

ISSUE #13: A Bit of a Deathwish

As Ben ducked next to one of the one-story warehouses that laid in rows within the compound, he instinctively knew that the terrorists were starting to take notice of him. In the darkness, the sounds of gunfire and explosions were getting closer, and now a man with a flamethrower up ahead was turning in his direction. Although he couldn’t hear the cursing from this distance, he knew the flood of filth dropping onto flamethrower guy was the work of Potty Mouth from his position on the roof. Suddenly from somewhere to his left, projectiles ripped into the corrugated metal of the wall above him. “I’ve had enough!” shouted Ben angrily as he stormed into the office of his superior, Nick Chopper. “I’m tired of being the center of attention.” Nick looked up, unfazed. He’d heard it before. “You chose to serve with The Infiltrators instead of standard military service, and you will be completing your term of enlistment with us. What you do with your life after that, well, I don’t care. “Listen, you have an outstanding power. Someday you could be an actor – imagine all eyes constantly focused on you! Hell, companies would love to have you in their booth at trade shows. But more importantly, right now you are a key component of our team.” The exasperation and sadness could be heard in Ben’s voice. “No, you don’t get it! I’m not an extrovert — doing those things would kill me. Imagine wanting to play football and be a wide receiver, and ALWAYS being triple-teamed. Attending your first class at law school, and the professor ONLY calls on you. Entering an armed conflict, and every gun is trained on you!” Ben dove for a nearby doorway and through a door partly ajar. He took shelter between several stacked cardboard boxes. He could barely make out the muffled sound of Traumatize outside slamming a couple victims against one of the other warehouse walls. Looking between a couple columns of boxes, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw several bound men seated on the floor. Son of a…he wasn’t supposed to find the UN hostages; he was supposed to attract attention away so that the others could find them. The handful of men with weapons who were guarding them began looking around — more than one of them in his direction. Damn! He broke for an exit at the other end of the stacked boxes, knowing that Dream Police would be reading his thoughts and forwarding the newfound whereabouts of the hostages to the rest of the team. He knew Dream Police would be reading his thoughts, because she couldn’t help but focus on what he was thinking. Annoying as hell, but of course she would know he thought that as well. Nick got up from his chair and retrieved a framed photograph off of the corner shelf. He placed a metallic hand on Ben’s shoulder and handed him the picture with the other. “Here, take a look at this.” In the photo Ben saw a dozen or so people dressed in typical Infiltrators garb, some of them obviously mutants and others undoubtedly with hidden powers. Nick pointed out a mousy looking guy on the end of the front row. “This…is Lee Harvey Deathwish.” His voice almost broke as he said it. “Lee had a latent, very potent ability. Just his presence on Infiltrator missions was enough to end conflicts with no shots fired. MANY lives were saved thanks to him. And then one mission, his options exhausted, Deathwish made the supreme sacrifice for his team and for his country. You see, he had the power to explode.” Crouching low, Ben broke for a row of equipment parked along the wall near him. He could hear the goons from inside impulsively following him out of the same exit, but his eyes were fixed on the dim outlines of Full Frontal, Tarpo, and The Wailer carefully approaching from the opposite side of the parked equipment. With their appearance, the tide was sure to shift. As Full Frontal shielded The Wailer, Dream Police’s voice whispered in the back of their minds instructing them to engage their auditory desensitizers now. A flurry of bullets ricocheted among the machinery around Ben just as Tarpo joined him. “Heads up,” the wiry demon mouthed at him. “WHAT?!” Ben said, incredulous. “How does someone even find out they have a power like that?” “It’s hereditary. Lee’s is the sixth Medal of Honor in his family. See, he could have just ignored his power, lived an ordinary life, raised a family in the suburbs…but he didn’t. He chose to help fight tyranny and evil as best he could, and I’m damn glad to have known him.” Ben saw his superior covertly wipe his eyes before any damage was done. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re a vital member of our team. And it’s not all about you!” The Wailer had the armed terrorists flopping to the ground from his concentrated sonic blast. Dream Police informed the team that Potty Mouth had reached the hostages — they were unharmed. With a jerk of his thumb, Ben directed Tarpo to go help, while the rest of them would sweep up, but from the looks of it there were no others in a position to harass his team: the hostages were secured, and the night was theirs. Ben sat still for several minutes, then nodded his head and rose from his chair. He opened the door, careful not to knock over Chopper’s large axe leaning against the door frame, and exiting the office and reception area, he continued out across the courtyard. Nick returned to his seat, and after a few moments of introspection he thumbed the intercom on his desk. “Irene, let’s give Squeaky Wheel a couple days to himself. He’s earned it.”

• I wasn’t sure how much of the formatting the judges get to see.  I used a liberal sprinkling of italicized, bolded, and underlined text like can be found in comics.  Also chose to bounce between the conflict story and the office scene, much like “The Tales of the Black Freighter” section of Watchmen graphic novel.
• Lee Harvey Deathwish was a character of mine from my “Champions” rollplaying days at college.  The Deathwish back then could actually reassemble himself after exploding, though, which isn’t at all useless.
• I liked the nickname Squeaky Wheel for the protagonist so well, I used his real name in the story to save the reveal for the ending lines.
• I threw Nick Chopper in to test the judges.  Metalic hand, “…wipe his eyes before any damage was done”, axe — know who he is?
• Another superhero idea I considered:  a guy who could summon the ghost of Mel Ott.
• Tarpo and The Wailer?  Those names I originally created for a couple goons in the 1985 chain story “Dial ‘M’ for Murray“

Sadly, the dividers didn’t format onto Spooky’s site, so the interleaving between dual storylines made for even more jarring reading than it already was? RESULTS. And the judges’ comments:

K: It blows my mind how much this feels like a real comic book. The action and character is there, and the writing style just frigging nails it, right up to the boldface, all caps and italics peppered throughout. It’s got so much damned style. 4

DK: I like the tone of the prose, but I actually felt like this was one of the less inherently useful superpowers on display here, and the way the scenes intercut is somewhat jarring (I realize I’ve had this problem before, so this may just be an issue of mine). 3

Nice that I was called out for getting the comic book feel, but DK rightly nailed me for not exactly having a useless superpower. Still, SPOILER ALERT! lives to fight another day.

Lastly, what does I Write Like have to say?

I write like
Harry Harrison

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

A New Year Friday Random 10

WMP-fired random tracks from the external HD:

1. “Pretending to Care” – Todd Rundgren, A Capella
2. “My Baby” – Wings, Wings at the Speed of Sound
3. “Swing Street” – Bruce Hornsby, Hot House
4. “Standing on Higher Ground” – Alan Parsons Project, Gaudi
5. “Bordeaux” – John Tesh, Tour de France soundtrack
6. “Goodbye Girl” – Toto, Toto
7. “Hearing Aid” – They Might Be Giants, Flood
8. “Shangri-la” – Electric Light Orchestra, A New World Record
9. “Endless Horizon [I Love BoB mix]” – Electric Skychurch, Moog soundtrack
10. “Siberian Khatru” – Yes, Close to the Edge

Back to work!

Spookymilk Survivor X — Challenge #12: Aladdin’s Lamp

Okay, this week’s Spookymilk Survivor writer’s challenge proved to be a bear. The goal? Write a story where the protagonist is granted three wishes. One wish has to have positive consequences, one negative, and one with no consequences at all.

It took a while, but eventually I came up with an idea that I believed satisfied the requirements of the challenge. And since I had some time to actually write it, I decided to further handicap myself: Spooky has mentioned before to me that he can generally identify my writing (even though it’s done anonymously), so for some added obfuscation, I made myself write it in first person, and with a young girl as the main character. Out of my comfort zone, but here’s the end product:

Sunday afternoon is my favorite time; among other things, it means I get to go to Game Stop and browse the PS3 games. My mom thinks it’s strange for a fourteen year old girl to be so into video games, but I don’t care. And since this happens to be Super Bowl Sunday, chances are I would have the store all to myself. Myself and Peg, that is. Peg used to be my babysitter many years ago, and now works the Game Stop next to Petco. She’s goth, but more in appearance than in attitude. My mom got along well with her up until she dropped out of school her senior year, then they had some kind of falling out. That all changed when she gave Peg “the shirt”. Peg NEVER liked being called by her first name, Peggy, which all the kids called her. One day, I suppose as a sort of peace offering, my mom gave her a black t-shirt. On the front was a cartoon of a vampire with a stake in its heart, X’s for eyes and the whole works. Next to the stake, mom had added the letters “PEG” in appliqué. Ever since, they’ve been as close to friends as anyone is with Peg. Mom usually dropped me off when she went to get her nails done and then a bit of grocery shopping before she picked me up again, so it was an hour or so to play. Sometimes Peg let me “demo” games with her, which was a blast. This time, however, I didn’t really feel like it. “Hey Goof, what’s with the long face?” Peg was the only one that called me that, from her babysitting days. “When mom sees my grades from this quarter, she’s not going to let me come here on Sundays anymore.” Peg squinted at me, then pulled her laptop up closer to her on the glass counter top. “That might be something that I can help you with.” “What?! No way! You can, like, fix my Beginning Algebra grade for me? I’m getting a D in there because of a really bad test.” Peg didn’t answer, but continued typing. I came around to see what she was doing, and at first she turned the screen away from me, but then thought twice and turned it back so I could see, too. At the top of the open window it said, “West High School Grade Maintenance System” with a list of names under the heading “Freshman Class” and a toolbar with lots of icons on it. “How about that, Goof — Mrs. Watkins still hasn’t changed her password,” she said, with a smile on her face. “Can you fix my grade?” I asked, glancing around the store. I couldn’t hardly believe this was possible. “Sure! I gots mad skillz.” She moved the cursor on the line across from my name, stabbed the letter “b” on the keyboard, and suddenly my grade point average on the right jumped by half a point. “Just that simple.” I looked around the shop uneasily, but with the Broncos in the Super Bowl, pretty much no one else was going to be there the entire afternoon. “So, can you change my Creative Writing grade as well?” I was starting to feel a little greedy. Without answering, Peg hit the left arrow a few times, highlighted another grade, and hit the “b” key again. I saw my grade point average go up .125, but we both noticed at the same time the red letters “UNAUTHORIZED” flashing on the screen. “Bastards!” shouted Peg, while I felt myself suddenly needing to pee. “Bastards! Bastards! Bastards!!” “No! Change them back! CHANGE THEM BACK!” I was starting to cry, as I bounced back and forth between my feet. I was going to get like at least a week of at-home suspension! Peg stared at the screen for a bit longer, and then quickly clicked the logout button followed by her fingers flying over the keys when the login screen came back. “Ha! Unbelievable.” When the “Freshman Class” name list returned (along with the flashing red “UNAUTHORIZED”), Peg placed the cursor over “B” and typed “d”, then dropped the cursor over to the left and put back the “c”. I had to look twice to be sure the screen no longer had any flashing red text on it anymore. Peg leaned back in her chair and breathed a big sigh — or was that me? “It’s been five years since “Gray Fox” retired from principal, and not only have they not removed his login, but his password is still the same!” She was still shaking her head as she hit the logout button and closed the window. “Sorry Goof, looks like I can’t help you after all.” Just at that moment the door opened and my mom walked in. “Hi Peg! Sorry, hon, I’ve got to cut you short this time. I should have realized the nail salon would be closed today, what with the Super Bowl and everything.” I glanced briefly at Peg, and still felt pretty nervous. Peg closed her laptop, and said, “Mrs. Stevens, I was just going to suggest, if Goof ever needs some tutoring or anything, I’d be happy to do that when you drop her by on Sunday afternoons.” “Why, what a nice offer, Peg! I’m sure she’s doing pretty well, but if her grades do let down any, we would love to take you up on that offer. We’d better get going though. If the score I saw at the Hugo’s store was right, someone is going to need these antacids when the football game is over.”

I’ve been reading the Millennium trilogy (currently on The Girl Who Played with Fire), so Peg has a bit of Lisbeth in her. K criticized me for making the main character’s speech meaningful and in complete sentences, so I added a couple “like” to her conversation. Also, a shout-out to the true Gray Fox, Principal Rudow.

Just curious — who does I Write Like think my writing matches this week?

I write like
Cory Doctorow

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

Well, that’s different. I’ll take that aspect as a success, then.

So, how did this one fly? RESULTS. Not so much. Everybody loves a forced curve, don’t then? Thank God for the immunity. Judges’ takes:

K: Tim Tebow is in the Super Bowl? What is this, a horror story? I do like the setup here with these characters, but watching people work on a computer does lose me after a bit. I would have stuck with it if the computer hacks were all of a different nature, but this one essentially was the same all the way through, though I did dig the tone and these people. 1

DK: I like just about everything about this except it doesn’t feel quite as sharply drawn as a few of the others, and the ending dialogue gets a little obvious-feeling. 2

And the sad ending is that another SPOILER ALERT! writer is pushed aside. I’m not happy.

Is Spankee Off His Rocker?

I’m a big fan of My Cardboard Mistress, and have had a few trades with Spankee, but this latest package has me scratching my head, and worried about Spankee’s sanity.
Here’s what I mean…well, wait, first some of the cards he sent that I needed:

clockwise, from top left: 2008 Upper Deck A Piece of History Box Score Memories #BSM-34 Joe Mauer [345/699]; 2002 Donruss Champions Statistical Champs #SC-24 Torii Hunter [018/250] (jersey); 2008 Upper Deck Yankee Stadium Legacy #3326 Tony Kubek; 2011 Topps Allen & Ginter Ginter back mini #128 Michael Cuddyer

Now, really, what was he thinking?! Not long ago I sent him a make-good package with several Michael Cuddyer cards that I’d accumulated over the months. He didn’t have to send me anything, but let’s look at the evidence…

1. I sent him about a couple dozen Michael Cuddyer cards, and what does he send me back? A Michael Cuddyer card
2. A s#’d Joe Mauer card? Play at the Plate kills for these.
3. A jersey card! Torii Hunter!! (There is no “I” in team, but there are two in “Torii”) And s#’d 018/250 — eighteen is Torii’s uniform number, if you cover up part of the four! And it’s Donruss; they don’t make those anymore.
4. Yankee Stadium Legacy vs. the Twins: this was one of their 102 1965 wins!

No, these cards were uncalled for, and I have the feeling that he might just send cards like these to other bloggers as well unless he can be stopped, or at least slowed down. My plan is to try and come up with some cards that he might like, and then confuse him by proposing a trade. It just. Might. Work. Will you join me in this effort?

Thanks Spankee. Thanks a lot.

All Hail The LCS!

It pains me to read other bloggers’ laments concerning their Local Card Shop(s), particularly with how well my LCS owner treats me. I always have a place to go to talk baseball and shake off the estrogen (besides sharing the house with my wife and daughter, the new dog is female, too!) and of course to browse cards. Here’s another great example: I dropped an email to Mark at Baseball Plus asking what his hours were this week; in his reply, he also mentioned “I have some cards for you.”

Boy, did he!

clockwise, from top left: 2007 Topps Opening Day #ODA-55 Shannon Stewart (auto); 2011 Topps Triple Threads Relic Sepia #TTR-55 Justin Morneau [17/27] (jersey); 2009 Upper Deck Icons Future Foundations #FF-FL Francisco Liriano (jersey); 2010 Topps Chrome Refractor Blue #202 Drew Butera [039/199] (auto); 2007 Bowman Heritage Signs of Greatness Black #SG-JM Jeff Manship [15/52] (auto); 2005 Upper Deck Origins “Old Judge” Materials #OJ-HU Torii Hunter (jersey)

Spookymilk Survivor X — Challenge #11: Payoff

This week’s Spookymilk Survivor writer’s challenge was a continuation of an earlier challenge: using someone else’s previous cliffhanger submission, write the payoff. And oh yeah, write it to match the style of the cliffhanger you are completing.

This was a bugger, not necessarily because of the difficulty (not that it wasn’t difficult), but because the Runner family spent almost the entire week with many of my wild, wonderful extended family in central IA. I did review the cliffhanger’s beforehand, settling on completing the store robbery cliffhanger by my arch-nemesis Daneeka’s Ghost (it felt the closest to my own “style”, such as it is) and ruminated on it until the night before the deadline. This was eventually written on the night before the deadline while watching the wonderful musical adaptation of Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds on DVD. The story worked out, but it could have used a scosh more spit and polish.

(Daneeka’s Ghost conclusion) Gerald semi-crouched where he had been standing, frozen in place as the squad car raced forward. It came to a halt with a screech in the open parking spots before the front entrance. Both car doors flung open and the officers took up position behind each door, their revolvers drawn and pointed, and one with the radio mic in his other hand. “The building is surrounded! No one needs to get hurt – just put down your weapon and come to the door with your hands over your head!” He could just make out Namir through the front windows, glancing furtively around him, and without seeing an exit available to him, slowly raised his hands above his head. Gerald knew Namir had no weapon anyway. As the officer on the passenger side moved forward, his raised gun signaling to Namir to lie on the ground, the other office turned his attention, and gun, in Gerald’s direction. Gerald had already sunk to his knees with his hands behind his head, though, just as a second police car pulled to a stop right in front of him. While being led away to the newly-arrived police car, hands cuffed behind his back, Gerald overheard the lady’s excited voice. “Thanks for coming so quickly! I took your advice about suspicious repeat purchases and called right away. I didn’t even have the phone hung up before that one over there ran in!” Jotting in a notepad, the officer in charge replied, “Well, more often than not when a guy comes in multiple times like that, he’s casing the joint. You did right to call us.” Gerald glanced up in the lady’s direction as his head was being forced into the waiting car. “That’s not the only reason,” he mumbled, as the pack of wintergreen gum fell onto the car seat. “That’s not the only reason…”

I liked the thought of Gerald being a reluctant antagonist, which DG had originally set up, and the pack of gum makes an appearance as an embodiment of Gerald’s feelings towards the victim.

Additionally, I was flattered that freealonzo chose to complete my cliffhanger. Since I had had no idea where the story was going and I never did take it to any conclusion in my head, it was interesting to see where he took it. And the fact that not one but two plot twists resulted would have made M. Night Shyamalan proud.

So how did team SPOILER ALERT! make out this week? Well I’m glad you asked — RESULTS. The scores are the real cliffhanger here! SPOILER ALERT! sits at 2^nd place, and Nibbish and His Vogons finally get the privilege of voting off a player. Tonight, thank God it’s them instead of us.

So, what say you, adjudicators?:

K: Alright, this is beauty right here. The story knocks down some pins that Brooks may not even realize he set up, and it’s Gerald, not Namir, who got them caught in the end. This pays off the complexity of Gerald’s “relationship” with the clerk in a realistic way, creates excellent foreshadowing and reads as if it’s from the same author. Excellent. 5

DK: I like to see usage of details from the original, or the lack of details, as in this case, the (possibility) that Namir lacks a weapon. 4

I’ll take the compliments while they’re still coming, and hopefully we can do it again next week. And thanks for the proofing (and the hospitality), SS. The home improvements look great, btw.