Leap Day

Sure, it only comes around every four years. Yet that doesn't mean nothing interesting has happened on February 29th in history.

The first Leap Day was in the year 45. It was also the last day of the year in the Roman calendar.

February 29, 1692 saw the first accusations of witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts. Hey, I didn't say everything which happened was good.

Hattie McDaniel won an Academy Award on Leap Day in 1940, the first African American woman to earn the honor.

Bandleader Jimmy Dorsey (1904) quarterback Fran Tarkenton (1932) and Michigan astronaut Jack Lousma (1936) were all born on Leap Days.

The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper album won the Best Album Grammy on February 29, 1968.

Hank Aaron of the Atlanta Braves signed the first $200,000 per year contract in baseball history in Leap Day 1972.

So it doesn't happen much, but February 29 has its historical highlights. Happy Leap Day!

Another dumb term

I went online this morning and I ordered a book. I selected the book, I entered my card information, I received a confirmation number as well as a confirmation e-mail. The book itself won't be available until September, but it's been ordered. I will get a copy.

I will stress it's been ordered. I will get it.

So why, pray tell, does everything and everyone involved in this situation (except me) insist that I've pre-ordered it?

Please tell me what I'm missing. I ordered it. It is paid for. I have a receipt. It is coming. What the hell is pre about that?

Should I be stressing over this? I think so. It is not what they're saying it is. It. Is. An. Order. For. A. Book. How hard is that to understand?

Or maybe I should have given them a pre-debit card and have the thing pre-shipped to my pre-address? It makes as much sense to me.

Curmudgeon rant over. But he will seethe about this for a few hours.

Waxing baseball philosophic

Hope springs eternal, in baseball anyway. As the Grapefruit and Cactus League games get played this month and next leading up to the regular season start on March 26, everyone's a contender. But can you contend with the past?

I don't mean that in a bad or melancholy way. I look forward to baseball as much this year as any other even as I've said excessively that sports mean less to me every day. There's just something about baseball which separates it from the pack. Better writers than me have tried to describe it for years. I think the crux of baseball is that it's transcendental.

There: that's your overwrought, ten dollar word of the day. Yet I find that it's apt. Baseball lives beyond everyday life, almost in the ethereal realm of the not quite true, not quite believable. It's the perfect blend of offense and defense. Everybody plays the both sides of the game (other than the monstrosity of the designated hitter). You could play with your father or grandfather, who could never run upcourt with you (and you had better never tackle Gramps). Whole families could play. Not so much with most other sports.

You can make baseball movies like Field of Dreams too, because baseball sees, accepts, and understands its place in Americana. Moonlight Graham says more for baseball than nearly anything else, and he hardly played. That's a far better statement for a sport than choreographed and fake celebrations after meaningless touchdowns.

Yes, it's time for baseball. Let's play two.

The joke's on me

I am getting older. And I'm beginning to realize how often the joke's on me (shut up Ron).

I've talked a lot about watching Rifftrax, a movie parody site where they mock movies, TV shows, short films and what all. Last weekend I watched several Rifftrax offerings with my son in Ohio, one of The Ohio Cosgriffs. As usual, I laughed at many of the jokes.

One of the jokes involved the Internet. It was that a character was so old that he still typed www before website addresses. I laughed at that, well, because it was clear I was supposed to.

Back here in Detroit I tested that remark. And sure enough, you don't have to type www before a web address. You just type weather.com or aol.com and there it is. I just tried it again: I typed mudhens.com, exactly like that, and was taken immediately to the Toledo Mud Hens web site as I now fully expected.

So the old guy joke was on me. But I had to laugh at the time, if only to cover myself.

Gran Torino and the movies

While at my family's home last weekend in Newark, Ohio, The Ohio Cosgriffs, we watched a few movies. One of them was Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino. I liked it. Quite a bit.

For me it was a new movie. I know it came out in 2008 but I had always heard good things about it and always intended to see it. Eventually.

The fact is I don't go to the movies. Not counting special events such as Rifftrax, the last new movie I liked which I saw first in a theater was Casino Royale, and that was I believe 2006.

A lot of my decreased interest in films is that most simply aren't worth the time. They tend to be shallow and jammed with pop psychology. I can read a good book, be entertained more cheaply and, what's more, know more. Maybe it is only the old guy in me talking but they just don't seem to make 'em like they used to. To be sure, good movies do get made - Apollo 13 comes to mind - yet even that one's 25 years old.

Of course, you don't have to learn something for a book or movie to be good. They can simply be diversions, and obviously there's nothing wrong with that. To venture from the proverbial sublime to the ridiculous, a recent example for me would be Detective Pikachu, which I watched on demand a few weeks ago and very well liked. I had never thought I would like a film based on a character licensed to sell, but there you have it. I do recommend it if all you want at a given time is recreation.

I really want to say more about Torino but I hate to spoil what is a good, reflective movie for anyone who has not seen it. Suffice it to say that it does make me want to be a bit more serious about investing in new or more recent films. Even if I have to go back a decade for it.

The blinker

The things you see on the road.

This is true, this really happened. Honest.

As I was driving on Interstate 280 in northern Ohio this morning, I came across a van which was marked as working for a senior center. It even had painted across the rear windows, Over 60? Leave the driving to us.

I followed it for about four miles. And all four miles - I am not making this up - its left turn signal was on. The blinker was winking at me the whole time.

Do I even need to enunciate the joke?

Nerk

I'm not actually sure if that's how to spell it, but that's about how it sounds. I'm in Newark, Ohio. But it sounds like the locals say Nerk, Ohiya.

This isn't my first experience with pronunciation not matching spelling. Rutherford, North Carolina, near where a lot of my southern family live, often comes out as, roughly, Rofton or Rullaferd. George Kell, the former Detroit sportscaster who hailed from Arkansas, used to end Missouri with an A: Missoura.

I don't mean this as a criticism. We all have accents and that's just how things are. I remember about 30 years ago talking to a local in Toronto, Ontario, Canada who after a few minutes of conversation asked, "So you're from Detroit?" even though I hadn't told him. "How can you tell?" I asked in turn.

 " By your accent. "

I actually replied, with no ill intent and as though it were a perfectly reasonable answer, "I don't have an accent."

 Of course I do. We all do. We just don't often think of it that way.

A question

Have you ever noticed that the people who want you to change rarely change themselves? That's because it's not about any sort of positive change. It's about wanting you to do things their way.

Just sayin'. It's a bit like tolerance. It sounds good until you realize how often it's only about you tolerating them. Their tolerating you, well, that's a while nother story. You're wrong.

Again, just sayin'.

Extra coffee

I like my hotel in downtown Indy. And I think it likes me.

When I returned from the WWETT show yesterday my room was cleaned, as you of course expect. Bed made, fresh towels, carpet vacuumed; all the expected luxuries the First World delivers. And beside the coffee maker were not the anticipated two but rather the makings of three cups of coffee. Real coffee, not decaf, although the two individual servings of decaf were in the tray. I assume they were the two I left from yesterday morning. They'll still be there when I leave Indy tomorrow.

So I get three cups of coffee this morning. Yay me.

But that's just between us because I'm only supposed to have two. Don't tell my doc. I'll buy your silence with the English Breakfast Tea which is also on the coffee tray.

Nah, I won't. I'm drinking that too.

Pushing pencils

I bought a pencil sharpener yesterday. To sharpen pencils.

You see, I brought some crossword puzzles to do while on whatever down time I might have in Indianapolis while I'm here for a trade show. And, you know, if I really get on a tear, I might wear down the nub on the lone pencil I brought. It's a cool pencil, one I used to keep score with at Detroit Tiger Stadium. It even says 'Detroit Tigers Tiger Stadium' on it. I might need to sharpen it if I really get on a roll.

So I bought a pencil sharpener. I understand that it really pushed the local economy over the top too.

Hey, I do my part.

Mom's opinion of appropriate dress

Mom, God bless her, well, she can't always contain expressing herself. That can be quite funny sometimes.

I take her to Saturday Mass most weeks and yesterday was typical. We got to Church a few minutes before four and took pews as far back as we could (in the proper Cosgriff manner) and said our private prayers waiting for the service to begin. Other people began to filter in, taking their seats and going through their own personal religious motions as well.

Eventually a woman came in in what she must have imagined to be her Sunday finest. These were clearly her go to meeting clothes, impeccable right down (right up?) to her hat, a wide and fluffy black and white, uh, Easter bonnet (though we are weeks ahead of Easter) with all kinds of garish accents, ribbons and bows and what all, topped with a huge white feather worthy of a Musketeer. It was a sight I must admit.

The woman passed our pew in search of hers. And as seems to happen right before an, ah, unfortunate instance, the Church became suddenly and inexplicably quiet as she walked by where Mom and I sat. Exactly as all was unimaginably calm Mom saw the woman. And into that perfect storm of silence Mom said quite emphatically, "Whoa!"

I turned my head down and bit my lip hard, because I nearly exploded in laughter. There were a few stifled giggles among the congregation too. For her part, dressed to the nines lady simply continued on to her pew as though nothing was amiss.

Happy Birthday Mom. You made my day.

Fried Cloyce

Me Pops liked to tell stories of his days in the field as he put it, his days going out to job sites to work on me Grandpa Joe's welders. They are some great stories, not the least reason because so many are true. Life is fun.

He told me a few times of when he went to pick up an electric powered welding machine which had not yet been unhooked from the power source. He went to find the job foreman, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, to get it taken care of.

It happened that day that Cloyce was in a mood. Everything had been going poorly for him, and that welder still being hooked up was another poke with a sharp stick. He stormed to the tool crib, demanding the crib manger give him a screwdriver. Cloyce was going to disconnect the machine himself. The crib guy smiled weakly as he gave him a screwdriver. Cloyce and me Pops went out to the welder.

Now it should be noted here that those old Hobart electric welders ran off 440, three phase power, about 4 times household current. They could kill you bad if you weren't careful. As such, insulation was important to your work.

Now, Dad had seen that Cloyce had been given a fully metal screwdriver, and the sheepish grin on the crib manager's face suggested that he knew what he had done. So Pops would have stopped Cloyce before anything bad could have happened. Still, he would let things play out.

Cloyce had walked a few feet before looking at the tool he had. Seeing it was uninsulated he screamed, "They're trying to fry me like a piece of bacon!" He stormed back to the crib, slamming that metal screwdriver onto the counter and demanding a new one. All in colorful language.

Pops and the crib manager just smiled.

What's on my mind Thursday, February 13, 2020

As I left early this morning amid the lightly falling snow, I noticed a guy clearing the flakes and ice from his car. His car with Florida plates. I hope he's enjoying Michigan.

They say the best things in life are free. I find that generally true: a child's laughter, a beautiful panorama, sunrises and sunsets. But among the things which are high on the list yet with small cost is the aroma of Tim Horton's coffee filling your car on a cold morning. For two bucks, it can give the free things a run for their money.

We're going to end up with about an inch of snow after the various prognosticators were calling for anywhere from one to six, depending on which one caught your ear. It makes me believe that beyond death and taxes, routinely wrong weather forecasts are certain too.

Baseball is coming. Just saying it. Repeating it actually. And I will be repeating it often in the coming weeks.

Baseball is coming.

See? Told ya.

Upsize the fries

On the road again...

During a sales trip through Indiana and up into Marshall, Michigan recently, I began looking for a place for lunch. As I hadn't eaten at a good old Kentucky Fried Chicken for awhile, I opted for KFC.

Now, I know of course that I don't need any extra food, especially when it's starchy or deep fried or heavily carbed. Yet that didn't stop me from asking if the meals could be upsized. "No sir, they just are what they are," the cashier told me.

"Okay, give me the number 4 please," I said.

She began tapping keys on the register. Then she asked, "For a dollar would you like to add extra potato wedges?"

I love KFC's potato wedges, so in spoken word I replied excitedly, "Yes, please." But in the silent words of my mind I asked, "Then there is a way to upsize the meals, isn't there?"

I mean, really. She didn't know that when I first brought it up?

I like February

What's not to like about February? I mean it. What's not to like?

For starters, baseball begins. In my case that means pitchers and catchers report for the Detroit Tigers tomorrow. The first Grapefruit League game is against the Phillies on the 22nd. Baseball is not only America's game, it's not an overhyped game. That alone is one big plus.

Then I always get to stay a few days in Indianapolis for a trade show. This year I get to do that twice, as after this weekend's show ends I get another next week, same bat time, same bat station. Who says history doesn't repeat itself? Indy's got an active downtown, and I'll get to see old friends in a more social atmosphere, at least once the shows let out. Plus I get to make sales to good people. Interaction with customers may be the best part of the whole sales biz.

Then I get to spend a weekend with the Ohio Cosgriffs. You know, The Ohio Cosgriffs. They're good people. Well, I'm kinda fond of them.

Finally, in most years Lent begins. Now, now, now, self denial is a good thing and you know it. But at the risk of going full bore against that good and noble ideal, it also means the start of fish fry season! For me that's the 28th, when St. Francis/St Hedwig parish in Detroit holds their first fry. They're the best. Aw, who I am fooling? They're all the best: deep fried fish and fries and cole slaw and the whole works. I've never been to a bad Catholic fish fry ever. Ev-er.

So February is upon is. What's not to like?

Day One review

I would imagine that few of us have never been inside a hardware store. At the same time, most of us likely believe that we know quite well what can be found in a typical one. Yet how many of us don't think deeply about what might in one?

Most any of us would guess rightly enough that hardwares have nuts and bolts, tools, electrical outlets and components, plumbing supplies, lawn care products, and even the drain snakes such as yours truly sells. But even I, before working the Do It Best Marketplace here in Indianapolis, never though much about what all a hardware might offer.

Many of us complain about Christmas displays in September. As something of a crank on the subject myself, I know the laments which are out there. So how would you feel about Christmas in February? There is a large area of Christmas trees, ornaments, yard decor and whatnot here for the store owners to consider. For this, I'm not upset by any measure. I get the point: any company which offers something a hardware may sell is here. And I've seen Christmas tidings in many hardware stores over the years. Still, Christmas in February, even in cold, wintry Indiana, feels kind of weird.

There are seasonal items beyond Christmas of course but those aren't as prominent. Toys and games are more visible than I would have expected. Yet I think what really surprised me is the amount of snack foods represented at the show. They are many and varied. Popcorn, pop, chips, breads, candies; a lot more than I'll bore you to name in this missive. Yet one which I do like is Iowa Smokehouse beef jerky and its other meat snacks. They are in an adjacent booth to mine, and have been pretty good about passing samples around even to us other vendors. They have good stuff, and as always, my blog, I can promote what I want. I simply would have never thought about a hardware offering jerky, that's all.

Funny thing is, I suppose that we've all seen such variety in our local hardwares. But how often do we think about it? Until you're swimming in them, what do you actually notice?

I'll notice Iowa Smokehouse whenever I'm in a Do It Best, I tell you what. And Electric Eel. Tell your local Do It Best that you want Electric Eel in their rental department.

My blog, my rules. And Electric Eel is the best.

I like Indy

Indianapolis. I really like it.

It has an active downtown with lots of restaurants and activities. From my hotel I overlook Victory Field, where the Indianapolis Indians play. They're Triple A baseball, in the same league as the Toledo Mud Hens if that helps you to know what I mean. I really gotta try to get down here in the summer and see the park from the inside.

I get to stay here twice this year. After this weekend's trade show I do another one the week after next. My current hotel is a block away from the Indiana Convention Center, where the show is being held, so it's an easy walk.  And it has an underground parking garage, so finding somewhere for my van to sit until Monday Noon was a breeze too.

Now if I can just sell a lot of Electric Eels in the next two and half days it will be a real smash. Wish me luck!

Cloyce the cop

My brother Phil had a good friend, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who spent about twenty years as a reservist with the Detroit Police. He never did much more than cover at baseball and hockey games but hey, it helped the regular cops out.

Once Cloyce was working at a baseball game  at old Tiger Stadium when, as part of his rounds, he stopped by the DPD office under the stands. The sergeant, indicating a sad looking fellow sitting over to the side, told Cloyce to escort the guy from the premises for public drunkenness. So Cloyce did.

About three innings later Cloyce was back by the patrol room, and the sergeant told him to show another guy the door. The same guy, in fact. "Isn't he the one I took out before?" Cloyce asked.

"He bought another ticket and came back in," the sergeant answered with a shrug. Warning the drunk not to return a third time or he'd face a night in jail, the sergeant gave him over to Cloyce.

Cloyce spent the rest of the game keeping a sharp eye out for the miscreant. He didn't want his own reputation soiled if the guy actually did get back in the stadium a third time.

Still, he avoided the DPD office for the rest of the game.

Coffee technology is not (always) for me.

I stopped at a truck stop early this morning to get a cup of coffee. When I want a self serve coffee, I just want to grab a cup, hold it under a spigot, and pull the lever on top of the spigot down to fill my cup with straight, simple black coffee. They offered instead a bank of newfangled coffeemakers with all sorts of options.

I didn't like that. When I want a self serve coffee, I just want to grab a cup, hold it under a spigot, and pull the lever on top of the spigot down to fill my cup with straight, simple black coffee.

But you have about eighteen different options using the new units! Yes, but I would have to learn to use them. I don't want to do that. When I want a self serve coffee, I just want to grab a cup, hold it under a spigot, and pull the lever on top of the spigot down to fill my cup with straight, simple black coffee.

But it's fresher! Beans are ground fresh for each cup and hot water forced through them. But how unfresh is the other coffee? It can't be that bad. And when I want a self serve coffee, I just want to grab a cup, hold it under a spigot, and pull the lever on top of the spigot down to fill my cup with straight, simple black coffee.

But you can have your choice of Ethiopian this or Columbian that or Arabica whatever else. I don't care about that. When I want a self serve coffee, I just want to grab a cup, hold it under a spigot, and pull the lever on top of the spigot down to fill my cup with straight, simple black coffee.

It's quicker than them newfangled gadgets anyway to grab a cup, hold it under a spigot, and pull the lever on top of the spigot down to fill my cup with straight, simple black coffee. I like it that way when I'm on the road and time's a wastin'. Because...

...When I want a self serve coffee, I just want to grab a cup, hold it under a spigot, and pull the lever on top of the spigot down to fill my cup with straight, simple black coffee.

And that's all there is to it.

The LCA in Detroit.

I saw the new Little Caesar's Arena for the first time last night. A buddy of mine had tickets to the Wings/Flyers game so I did him the favor of taking one off his hands.

I wish I could say I saw a hockey game but I don't feel like I actually did. Philly won 3-0 and the Wings just looked off tempo the whole night. I know they're pretty bad this year. But they're staring at Detroit Tigers bad, a phrase it pains me to utter because I love my Tigers best of all. I don't think the Wings had a single decent shot on goal. The Flyers carried the play the whole 60 minutes as near as I could tell.

The Arena itself is nice, although the bowl sure seemed dark to me. Compared to the Joe Louis Arena where they played before the LCA was built, the lighting just didn't seem to me all that good. The upper level stands sure were steep too. We were in the last row of the upper bowl on a nice flat surface, but it didn't feel that far away from the action. I've sat darn near at the top of the Joe too. It was noticeably farther from the ice.

The amenities were nice and not all that unreasonable. I paid $5.50 each for a hot dog and a 20 ounce Sprite, which is at least comparable to major sports venue prices. Jerry's beer was $13 bucks though. Ouch.

Would I go there again? Sure. It is a nice arena, all said.

This is Charles Martin Cosgriff reporting on the state of the LCA.

English golfspeak

You have to love English golf commentators. They do know their English language and deliver it with a certain subdued style.

While watching an event on the European PGA Tour early this morning I heard two examples of this talent. One golfer barely missed a putt. And I mean barely, just grazing the cup. The commentator noted, "When he misses, he doesn't miss by much. He scares the hole."

Hah. He scares the hole.

On an errant tee shot, a golfer was begging the ball, "Right. Go right. Go right." It didn't go right. The announcer said, "Despite his heartfelt entreaties, the ball mocked him and did as it pleased."

I do like golf these days. Not necessarily for the actual golf either.

Why I don't like politics

This is intended to be about why I don't like politics. That may sound odd coming from a guy who's been rather openly political here and on Facebook and social media lately. But I don't like politics. Every time I find myself being drawn into them I end up mad and hating the experience. And not being very fond of me over it either.

Now what I am about to say I believe applies to both sides, even though I will use recent events as examples. So I will begin by admitting that yes, the Republicans do it too. I get that. Indeed, it's part of why I don't like politics. I find each side likes to put a little too much spin on events and issues.

I hate politics because of the hyper-partisanship inherent in it. The whole impeachment imbroglio and Kavanaugh debacle before it offer perfect illustrations. To the super partisans, every issue is cut and dry, yet most are twisted to the point of insanity. The evidence against Justice Kavanaugh was so obviously contrived as to be unreliable. It was well within the bounds of reasonable doubt. The charges against President Trump so inane (a politician with an eye to his political future: horrors!) that it amazes me so many folks take it so seriously. There's an election coming up, people. Lighten up and do your civic duty if you feel that strongly, but could you save me and everyone else the evil clown carnival atmosphere? Could you please not paint a picture of ultimate doom?

Then there's the attitude that the other side are stupid, deplorable rubes. Disagree with me about Trump and Kavanaugh if you like. I don't care. That's your option. But when start insulting me about it, when your condescension drips like molasses in January, why would expect to convert me? I'm a college educated city dweller I'll have you know, the paragon of your idea of virtue. Or did I take the wrong classes?

You get my point? If you're trying to push me into becoming evil you're doing a fine job of it. That's where I get not so fond of myself. Because if you want a monster, you get a monster. I am not a monster. I resent, quite rightly and emphatically I will assert, being labeled one. And it does not help you or me.

Again, both sides do it. I understand that all too well thank you very much. That may just be the main reason I don't like politics.