River Bank Books & Music needs a monkey. there. i have said it, and now it is on the web so we know it has to be true (...). we need a monkey of some sort here, be it a gorilla, a baboon, chimpanzee, or some sort of other smaller simian. it would be eager to help and loved by everyone, especially me, because i would like to see a monkey climbing the ladder. heck, i bet the monkey wouldn't even have to use the ladder, just pouncing from shelf to shelf in a beautiful ballet of hairy fascination. laughing joyously from the counter, i'd bellow out, "Hey, Monkey! go fetch me a copy of 'Deception' by Philip Roth!" (because the monkey's name will either be "Monkey" or "Dr. Reginald Belfrey"), and he'd scamper up there cackling maniacally, grab the book, hop down, and dance his way over to me, because i feel our monkey should know how to dance.

on a completely unrelated note, i just finished "My Life After Baseball" by Ernie Harwell, and i will say that i do miss his tigers' telecasts. however, after reading through his collection of anecdotes and ponderings of the modern day game and those related to it and the journalists involved, i felt the same way i did when i got to hear him calling a game, and that's always a nice nostalgia to embrace. it was a quick read, and well worth any baseball fan's time. other baseball readings i can't endorse enough are "Moneyball" by Michael Lewis and "Eight Men Out" by Eliot Asinof.

right, Monkey?


"You betcha, grant!!"

when i'm not contemplating the mysterious mysteries of life and other deeply ponderous queries, i like to propose hypothetical situations based on events that have ABSOLUTELY no chance of ever coming to fruition. for example: james blunt fights a seven-foot-tall koala bear. who wins? stuff like that. my most recent conundrum features roald dahl vs. vladimir nabokov. after several agonizing moments of speculation, i think that mr. dahl would be victorious over mr. nabokov for the following reasons:

1) have you ever REALLY read one of roald dahl's books (and no, seeing the movie versions don't count)? it is CRAZY. sure, "Pale Fire" is crazy in its presentation and loose association with the dictionary meaning of "novel," but good grief man! chocolate rivers? bald witches? a girl named matilda? insanity!
2) look at his name: Roald Dahl. i LOVE it. is it a misspelling of "Ronald"? could it be "Doll"? nope. Roald Dahl. sure, "Nabokov" is quite catchy, mentioned in a Police song, and is the surname of a squirrelly goalie in san jose, but it's just not Roald.
3) judging purely by jacket photos, mr. dahl just looks bloody wily. nabokov looks smooth and silently intimidating, but i'll take "wily" any day of the week.


















this is what i think about as i teeter perilously atop one of our ladders. that, and how i really don't want to fall on a bookcase. or a customer. or roald dahl.

oh, and on a semi-sort of-quasi-related note, if you're not a member of Blogger and would like to leave a comment, please add your name at the end. we'd love to know who you are! (plus, it helps my self esteem to know that someone other than my mom is leaving comments...)

much like how Dan Aykroyd and Samuel L. Jackson can't say "No" to any movie and have each appeared in nearly one hundred movies (don't even try counting all of William H. Macy's films...), certain authors just keep cranking out book after book after BOOK AFTER BOOK. for instance, Jerry Jenkins and Stephen King, two vastly different authors, but each one practically sweats a book out waiting in a bank line. isn't that crazy? over a hundred books. apiece. for some it takes a bloody lifetime to write ONE book, and these guys sneeze and a manuscript drops out. maybe i lament all this due to petty jealous on my part (..."maybe"?), but it's just getting ridiculous. how many new ideas can these guys come up with? will King ever wake up one morning without a single terrible thought to stretch out into a book (and a subsequent awkward made-for-tv movie)? ah well. at least they're not recording albums........what? stephen king appears on Cincinnati Reds' pitcher Bronson Arroyo's album about Boston? hmmh. nevermind then.