Yesterday we had no chance. This was the kind of game when even devoted fans leave early. After all, this town gave up on the Royals some time ago.
The Royals trailed 6-0 to Tim Lincecum, who looks like a 15-year-old but is one of the most talented pitchers in the National League. Not only did they fall behind 6-0, they looked awful doing so. Even a brief comeback to cut the lead in half was quickly squelched, as the Giants scored four times to lead the game 10-3 in the fifth inning. Even when the Royals cut it to 10-5 (a rally ended by a horrific call by the plate umpire) and Lincecum left the game, that burst of scoring seemed a footnote to a game destined for The March Of Nondescript Middle Relievers.
The most remarkable play of the game was a sprawling catch by a fan over the third-base dugout. At least the Monarchs uniforms looked cool.
Yesterday we had no chance. This was the kind of game when even devoted fans leave early. After all, this town gave up on the Royals some time ago.
The Royals trailed 6-0 to Tim Lincecum, who looks like a 15-year-old but is one of the most talented pitchers in the National League. Not only did they fall behind 6-0, they looked awful doing so. Even a brief comeback to cut the lead in half was quickly squelched, as the Giants scored four times to lead the game 10-3 in the fifth inning. Even when the Royals cut it to 10-5 (a rally ended by a horrific call by the plate umpire) and Lincecum left the game, that burst of scoring seemed a footnote to a game destined for The March Of Nondescript Middle Relievers.
The most remarkable play of the game was a sprawling catch by a fan over the third-base dugout. At least the Monarchs uniforms looked cool.
The Mars Phoenix lander called up NASA's hamburger phone to report that the red planet's eggo is preggo with water ice. Now we're one step closer to terraforming Mars and escaping from our dying world. Someday, we'll meet at Space McFadden's in the Cordish Company's Mars LIVE District, and drink a few Marsjitos — look, I don't create the hokey cocktail names of the future, I just report 'em. Will we be allowed entrance while wearing the silver jumpsuits favored by the black urban spaceyouths of the future? After the jump, a look at the ancestor of the Cordish Company's future dress code, also known as the present-day Power & Light District dress code, accompanied by rock-solid fashion advice for dressing up like a white person. Here's a hint: What would Bill Engvall wear? Click here, or just punch this picture as hard as you can with your dominant fist:
I came to a conclusion that I didn’t expect when I read this blog post yesterday: I don’t care how much Jason Whitlock makes but I suspect he earns every penny.
I’m a news junkie. I read the Star every day not just because doing so is a civic responsibility but because I love newspapers. If I had my druthers, we’d have multiple newspapers in every town. Yes, it's unfortunate when any business fires workers just so the wealthy can enjoy higher profits -- and doubly so when it involves newspapers, which are the lifeblood of democracy. And yes, managers are never the first to be laid off, although they might be the first to deserve it.
But, like it or not, the media landscape is changing.
I came to a conclusion that I didn’t expect when I read this blog post yesterday: I don’t care how much Jason Whitlock makes but I suspect he earns every penny.
I’m a news junkie. I read the Star every day not just because doing so is a civic responsibility but because I love newspapers. If I had my druthers, we’d have multiple newspapers in every town. Yes, it's unfortunate when any business fires workers just so the wealthy can enjoy higher profits -- and doubly so when it involves newspapers, which are the lifeblood of democracy. And yes, managers are never the first to be laid off, although they might be the first to deserve it.
But, like it or not, the media landscape is changing.
When it comes coffee, you never know what to believe. Over the years I’ve read differing medical reports that insist coffee causes cancer, coffee cures cancer, coffee is a great hair tonic, coffee causes hair to fall out and – don’t ask me where exactly I read these -- coffee either exacerbates impotence or causes erections that last for days.
This week, USA Today led off a health news story with this sentence: “Drinking up to six cups of coffee a day may lower the overall odds of dying prematurely, mainly because it cuts the risk of dying from heart disease.”
Six cups seems a little excessive. But in the event I do kick the bucket prematurely, I probably should be drinking my morning coffee at Rev Café & Gallery (2010 Main Street). A friend had told me that it was a Christian coffee shop.
It’s been a sad week for print journalism. Even though some of us here at The Pitch often take issue with the Star, we can’t help feeling bad for the 120 people who got laid off on Monday.
Today, Aaron Barnhart posted this tribute to his fired colleague Paul Horsley. Barnhart writes: “I can say this without hesitation — no one at the Kansas City Star worked harder, produced more copy, endured nuttier hours or flexed more intellectual muscle than Paul Horsley. Losing him just sucks.” Barnhart also set up this blog so that people can say goodbye to their favorite Star employees.
Now that CVS offers home paternity tests, you can finally put to rest those lingering questions about who actually fathered your kids, previously impossible without the direct creepy intervention of Maury Povich. Oh, come on — you know you're that baby's daddy, but wouldn't it make you feel better to see those chromosomal sequences line up all nice and pretty? It's all about peace of mind, like accidental death and dismemberment coverage or the Backup gun rack, as seen on TV. And once you know for sure, I expect you to do the right thing and make an honest woman of your child's mother, who gave you the most precious, precious gift one person can possibly give another: awkward, drunken sex without protection followed by its logical neonatal aftermath. After the jump, some discussion of jailhouse religion and Overland Park-based Sprint's tentative experiment with possibly attempting to make customers happy. By clicking here, you are confirming to the state that this is the mother of your beautiful child:
If I’ve been negative in assessing Kansas City sports, there’s a reason:
We’ve hit bottom.
Sure, Kansas won basketball’s national championship and Missouri is a national power in football. Yes, that brings joy to some fans who have yet to visit either campus, let alone attend a class. But today, wearing “Kansas City” on a uniform guarantees a one-way trip to the cellar.
If I’ve been negative in assessing Kansas City sports, there’s a reason:
We’ve hit bottom.
Sure, Kansas won basketball’s national championship and Missouri is a national power in football. Yes, that brings joy to some fans who have yet to visit either campus, let alone attend a class. But today, wearing “Kansas City” on a uniform guarantees a one-way trip to the cellar.
Café Trio, officially turns four years old this month — if you don’t count the several months that Chris Youngers and Tai Nguyen spent operating their midtown restaurant as Pappagallo, the previous tenant at 3535 Broadway which Youngers and Nguyen bought out in 2003.
But instead of celebrating that birthday with a bang, the young bistro owners are in a frenzy of orchestrating their move to a bigger venue.
Movies in the upcoming Fangoria’s Weekend of Horrors in New Jersey are imaginative if not tasteful — which is the whole point. Among the three days of films screening at the horror fan convention, there’s Machine Girl, about a Japanese high school student with a machine gun for an arm who fights gangsters and ninjas, and Splatter Disco, which is exactly what it sounds like. This is a convention for hardcore monster fans who want to see people exploding in the most artful ways possible. So it’s nice to see a pair of locals leading the pack.
A short-film showcase called Horrors From Kansas kicks off the weekend.
This week's layoffs at The Kansas City Star have left the paper lighter, leaner and more streamlined — like a shark! Now it's pointed directly at the future, as though the future were driving its motorcade past the book depository and The Star were poised like a streamlined shark with a rifle — look out, future! After the jump, some more offensive similes, coming up fast on your bumper like the paparazzi in the Pont de l'Alma road tunnel in Paris. Goodbye, English rose. Click here, or on this photo of Sir Elton John's performance at Princess Diana's funeral in 1997:
Katie, Nedra and Maria brought a picnic to the parking lot of Rainy Day Books.
On Monday night, David Sedaris was the guest of honor at what turned out to be a parking-lot party at Rainy Day Books. I’d never seen him in person, so I excitedly headed over to Fairway to hear him read excerpts from his new book, When You Are Engulfed in Flames.
I got there around 6 p.m., an hour before the reading. Sedaris had set up shop outside the store to sign copies of his book. A crowd of about 60-plus people (and an ice-cream truck) lined up around the side of the building. Just half an hour later, the line snaked around the entire parking lot. I’ll guess that there were about 400 people waiting for their special Sedaris moment.
I read with some interest your June 2 columndescribing an earlier column of mine as ignorant and biased against Southerners. I regret the late reply, but I have been delayed by work, other matters and a lack of awareness concerning the existence of your publication.
First off, I applaud you for your bold venture into the world of “blog media criticism.” Some might think the venture derivative and vaguely pathetic, but I feel this is a strong step in a new direction.
I read with some interest your June 2 columndescribing an earlier column of mine as ignorant and biased against Southerners. I regret the late reply, but I have been delayed by work, other matters and a lack of awareness concerning the existence of your publication.
First off, I applaud you for your bold venture into the world of “blog media criticism.” Some might think the venture derivative and vaguely pathetic, but I feel this is a strong step in a new direction.
Kansas City's population is up by 71,000 to 500,000 people! Maybe. Yael T. Abouhalkah has his doubts, but I'd like to welcome all our new residents personally, with a small gift basket and an envelope of coupons — I actually have to, because the neighborhood Welcome Wagon is a responsibility I take extremely seriously. Predictably, the commenters on Yael's blog attribute the population increase to "porous borders," an awesome euphemism meaning "brown people" — the current receptacle for societal anxiety, at least until the next El Niño southern oscillation or communist uprising.
It occurred to me that if I could collect just one dollar from each of these 71,000 new Kansas City residents, I could knock off for the year and work on my fantasy novel. After the jump, a proposal for the new people regarding possible contributions toward a down-payment on a particular kind of hot sandwich taking the country by storm. Click here or on this WIC-approved cheeseburger in a can:
The last time the Royals and Cardinals were rivals, I was in high school.
Despite what you might hear or read in the next two weeks touting the series against the Cardinals as games between two rivals, the Cardinals and Royals are no such thing.
The last time the Royals and Cardinals were rivals, I was in high school.
Despite what you might hear or read in the next two weeks touting the series against the Cardinals as games between two rivals, the Cardinals and Royals are no such thing.
Guess who’s hosting Meet the Press in hell? Fred Phelps says it's recently deceased newsman Tim Russert.
In a 4-minute video harangue, Phelps scolds Russert for molding “public opinion for the devil”; condemns “jackasses” James Carville, Wolf Blitzer and Tom Brokaw for eulogizing the journalist; and denounces Russert’s religious beliefs as “Roman Catholic voodoo.”
If you want to see it yourself, the video's after the jump.
The city of Sugar Creek has forced dozens of residents from their homes for the purpose of turning over a hunk of land to a private developer. But Mayor Stan Salva keeps insisting that the city isn’t using its power of eminent domain.
Last year, Sugar Creek officials approved tax-increment financing (TIF) for a retail development at the corner of U.S. Highway 24 and Sterling Avenue. The decision provoked outrage, since the development covers an area that includes 57 homes. City officials essentially decided that having a new supermarket was worth the trauma of obliterating a neighborhood.
Meet the Press host Tim Russert died on Friday, and there's not a damn thing anybody can do about it. What do you tell the children when the host of a major network's Sunday talk show passes through the veil between heaven and assy-smelling, malaria-ridden old planet Earth? I think you tell them the truth: Sometimes TV round-table moderators die suddenly and without warning, occasionally while interviewing Health and Human Services Secretary Mike Leavitt. Meanwhile, stinky old Anne Rice remains well above room temperature, publishing books made entirely out of florid adjectives and crap. Let it be the first in a long, unremitting series of examples that life is totally unfair and arbitrary, and that there's absolutely nothing they can count on. After the jump, some ruminations on Jesus, journalism and Brush Creek. Click here, or you can choose between this photo of thanatoid death rictus James Carville or Title IX Women's Division death rictus Anne Rice:
The Roasterie has opened a café at its factory near 27th Street and Southwest Boulevard (actual address: 1204 West 27th Street). Yesterday, a co-worker and I stopped by to check it out.
Two mochas made with Shatto chocolate milk — and topped with neat designs.
Unlike the Roasterie Café in Brookside, this one serves only coffee.
Like its Brookside location, it also offers free Wi-Fi.
The place will be open from about 8 to 5ish during the week (i.e., when the roasting facility is in operation) and during the Saturday tour.
Peggy Noland’s shop at 124 west 18th Street used to be painted like a hamburger, but now it looks like the inside of a cloud. The fashion designer attached 75 pounds of white polyfill material to the walls and ceiling of her tiny boutique in time for last week’s First Friday.
“Some of the people who were walking by were so drunk they didn’t know what to make of it,” Noland giggles, leaning against the white cotton-candy-like fuzz. “Of course, people had to come in and try to touch it, which is fine.”
Giving with one hand, taking with the other: The Kansas Department of Revenue intercepted $1.2 million in economic stimulus checks meant for Kansas residents to pay back taxes. Missouri collected $3 million. On the one hand, my check arrived OK last week, but on the other hand, it wound up back in state coffers anyway, in the form of $600 of "Lucky 7" scratchers I picked up at Grand Slam, which I'm still working my way through with a quarter and a whole lot of elbow grease. If I win any jackpots, my plan is, first, to get treatment for scratcher-induced carpal-tunnel syndrome, and second, to write a self-help book called Scratch Your Way to Prosperity. If I don't hit any jackpots, I plan to continue telling my girlfriend that my check still hasn't arrived and I have no idea why. After the jump, a few words about the ancient ruins we used to call Kansas City infrastructure, which then trail off into an abrupt ending because sometimes you're working on a paragraph when you realize that, emotionally, you've simply moved on. Get in touch with your feelings by clicking here, or on Dr. Leo Buscaglia:
Some thoughts as Bryan Busby continues his fine work providing analysis of the NBA Finals:
I attended Wednesday night’s Royals game. Here's the most interesting thing I noticed: all those jerseys worn in the stands, featuring the names of players no longer on Kansas City's active roster.
It became a very depressing version of License Plate Bingo: George Brett, Billy Butler, Angel Berroa, Jeremy Affeldt, Emil Brown, Mike Sweeney, Carlos Beltran. The Royals gave away all of these jerseys during previous promotions…
Some thoughts as Bryan Busby continues his fine work providing analysis of the NBA Finals:
I attended Wednesday night’s Royals game. Here's the most interesting thing I noticed: all those jerseys worn in the stands, featuring the names of players no longer on Kansas City's active roster.
It became a very depressing version of License Plate Bingo: George Brett, Billy Butler, Angel Berroa, Jeremy Affeldt, Emil Brown, Mike Sweeney, Carlos Beltran. The Royals gave away all of these jerseys during previous promotions…
Jack Short and Daniel Lyons might describe themselves as science geeks, but they're on the verge of breaking big in the fashion world.
The two Oak Park High School grads, class of 2005, both went to the University of Missouri-Columbia intent on going to medical school. That's still the plan, but a summer spent studying abroad last year added a twist to their plans.
On June 11, the families of Olivia Raya and Anthony Rios file into the courtroom minutes before the 1:30 p.m. sentencing of Michael Dale, the man who gunned down the couple in a drug deal turned robbery. Two U.S. Marshals lead a shackled and jumpsuit-wearing Dale into the courtroom. Dale, a short, bald man with a dark beard and dark-rimmed glasses, seems laid back as he talks with his attorney, Brian Gaddy.
It's Thursday, which means we're one day closer to the release of the summer's best movie. I don't mean to sound like a geek, but I've been lining my whole collection of American Girl dolls up on the dresser every night and organizing a pretend-quorum regarding who's the cutest: Shia Labeouf or Chace Crawford. Oh, I know it's really no contest, but li'l Addy Walker gets so worked up when I pretend that Shia's hair isn't weird or indescribable. She's adorable! That just about wraps up all my irony about little girls at this point; after the jump, a succession of other easy targets including, but not limited to, old people, the blind and baby animals. As a psychological test for which you will be judged and treated accordingly, you may click on either of the following images to continue:
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Now we're one step closer to terraforming Mars and escaping from our dying world. Someday, we'll meet at Space McFadden's in the Cordish Company's Mars LIVE District, and drink a few Marsjitos — look, I don't create the hokey cocktail names of the future, I just report 'em. Will we be allowed entrance while wearing the silver jumpsuits favored by the black urban spaceyouths of the future? After the jump, a look at the ancestor of the Cordish Company's future dress code, also known as the present-day Power & Light District dress code, accompanied by rock-solid fashion advice for dressing up like a white person. Here's a hint: What would Bill Engvall wear? Click 
I came to a conclusion that I didn’t expect when I read 
If I’ve been negative in assessing Kansas City sports, there’s a reason:
I read with some interest 
