I joined Cal and Sanpete on the Ready to Unload Podcast last night to talk about the Mets and stuff. This was a fun one. I come on around the 40-minute mark. One note: I got Eddie Murphy’s leather getup from Delirious confused with the one from Raw. My bad.
One of things that most surprised me about the feedback I got from the suggestion-box post a couple weeks ago was that people seem to enjoy Twitter Q&A and mailbag stuff. Who knew? Usually I write them because I can’t think of anything to say but have time to make a post. But if a few of the readers goodly enough to respond to that post like them, they should probably happen more often.
Problem is, I’ve leaned on Twitter for questions, which is unfair to anyone without Twitter and limiting to anyone who might have — heaven forbid — a question that requires more than 140 characters. So if you’re either or both of those things, have at it:
The Mets have a day game today and I have a podcast to record. So in lieu of any lengthy original post today, please accept this extremely lengthy letter I wrote to Delta’s subsidiary Song Air Lines almost exactly eight years ago. This was up on a now-defunct resume website I had, and I’ve been meaning to re-post it here for posterity. Fueled with punk-rock spirit, 23-year-old me intended to write a series of mockingly petty complaint letters to big corporations. Instead, I wrote just this one, then fizzled on the idea and focused on playing the bass and eating Taco Bell, the main things I did at 23. Also, I learned shortly after writing it that Jet Blue uses Airbus planes, which weren’t alliterative. Finally, http://www.jamesvanderbeek.de — which really existed — now redirects to the Beek’s German-language Wikipedia page.
July 21, 2004
John Selvaggio
President
Song Air Lines, Inc.
1030 Delta Blvd.
Atlanta, GA 30320
Dear Mr. Selvaggio,
Several weeks ago, a few friends of mine began planning a trip to West Palm Beach, Florida, from our hometown on Long Island in New York. My friends, who make slightly more money than I do, were dead set on flying on Jet Blue airlines, and, to be honest, I could not blame them. After all, I’d flown Jet Blue several months prior and immediately fallen in love with its on-board amenities, not to mention its reasonable fares. Besides that, I’d become enchanted by its beautiful, blue bellied Boeing 767s, which reminded me of the lovely red-breasted robin, except blue, and not a bird.
Despite this predilection for another airline, I was intrigued by the services offered by Song, especially since I am a Delta SkyMiles member (#XXXXXX) with just shy of the 50,000 miles needed for a trip to North Africa (and, Lord, I hope Mauritania counts as part of that region). One of my friends, a fellow frequent flyer, had saved the Song “Happy Guide” from a previous flight.
You’re about to see how it’s possible to have a great experience at a great price. (Really)…. You’re about to see how many different ways you can experience your trip. Because at Song, we believe you shouldn’t have to check your personality with your bags. Flying time should always be, well, your time (Happy Guide, pg. 2).
After reading a manifesto so wrought with benevolence, cute colloquial language, and egalitarian ideals, how could I not Fly Song? Besides, the flight was actually slightly cheaper than the JetBlue flight to West Palm Beach that was leaving New York around the same time.
My flight to West Palm Beach, flight DL 2066, left John F. Kennedy International Airport at 4:30 PM on July 8th, 2004. Most of the flight went swimmingly, or, I suppose, flyingly. The flight attendants were polite and helpful, and instructed me in the appropriate emergency landing protocol, which was actually quite different than the plan I had in mind, which consisted of panicking, running, kicking, and screaming like a wet-pantsed toddler.
After takeoff, under the pseudonym of ICEMAN, I began my dominance of Song music trivia. I won nine straight games, with unprecedented scores of up to 7950 points. As it turns out, I know way more about Journey than your average Song traveler, and I would like to take this time to officially dedicate my string of victories to Steve Perry. Clearly, you folks at Song Airlines could appreciate the man who wrote, “Anyway you want it, that’s the way you need it.” My joy in slaughtering my fellow passengers in the trivia game was enough to allow me to completely ignore NORMA, the woman sitting in the row behind me, who was very obviously cheating off my screen.
When it came time to instill my own personality into my flight, however, things started to go awry. My personality can best be described as “nacho-loving.” Thus, because I was not expected to check my personality with my bags, I ordered the “Ole Feast” from the Song Happy Guide.
The Ole Feast arrived, and I was charged five dollars. I paid with a twenty-dollar bill, but the flight attendant did not have change and told me she would pay me back before the end of the flight. To my utter dismay, the Funacho Cheese that came with the Ole Feast was ice cold, and clearly not up to my normal nacho cheese standards. I understand that heating up only the nacho cheese would be relatively difficult, considering that the rest of the Ole Feast was kept cool, but, after the pleasant experience on the flight thus far, I was holding Song Airlines to a high standard, hoping that the company might be part of that rare upper echelon of airlines that actually heats up their nacho cheese. I guess I was hoping for too much. On top of that, the Tostitos chips that came with the Ole Feast had clearly been around the block, albeit not necessarily in the promiscuous sense, but in the sense that the bag was essentially just a collection of chip fragments, rather than the large, round, unadulterated chips I was hoping for. Naturally, I am not sure if you are as regular a nacho eater as I am, but all nacho lovers know that it is nearly impossible to dip a tortilla crumb into nacho cheese, no matter what temperature. The chips, salsa, and cheese were accompanied by Hot Tamales, which no one in his or her right mind would eat.
On top of my general, and admittedly superficial, complaints about the Ole Feast, the flight attendant never returned with my fifteen dollars. I realize that I am at least partially responsible for the oversight, as I should have pursued it, but, to be honest, I got caught up in music trivia and was unable to focus on anything else. The ICEMAN does not have time for trivial issues of change for nachos. His alter ego, me, does.
One can buy many strange and wonderful things with fifteen dollars. It is an amount of money that is generally overlooked since it is not a standard denomination, but if you consider it, it really can be a quite valuable amount, especially while traveling. More on this later.
After landing in West Palm Beach and enjoying some of that airport’s wonderful amenities, most notably foosball, I realized my error in getting off the plane without my change, and went immediately to the Song/Delta Airlines check in line for help. Although the two Delta employees could not immediately refund my fifteen dollars, they were extremely helpful. They gave me a twenty-five dollar Delta gift certificate and acted as though they were putting wheels in motion for the return of my fifteen dollars. I was grateful for their help and for the gift certificate, despite the fact that, as they explained, I could not “go down and spend it at Publix.” It was true: Publix did not accept Delta travel certificates.
Fifteen dollars could go a long way at Publix.
I was told, however, that my gift certificate could be used for anything purchased through Delta. This interesting theory will be revisited later.
My stay in Florida was nice, though I really could have used a little more spending cash while I was there. Not too much, maybe just fifteen dollars would have made the parasailing cost seem more reasonable for my budget. But, alas, I was short fifteen dollars.
I returned to the Delta/Song check-in area at West Palm Beach airport a few hours before my flight home, hoping that the calamity involving my fifteen dollars would have been rectified. This is where my Delta/Song experience took a serious turn south, and not in a physical way, as I was actually planning to fly north. The woman at the desk was impatient, and essentially scolded me for leaving the airplane without my fifteen dollars. Naturally, I had already endured a great deal of internal strife regarding my egregious mistake, and her public humiliation certainly did nothing for my psyche. She not only did not have my fifteen dollars, but she could not even provide a phone number I could call to pursue my fifteen dollars. She only gave an address to which I could write. I explained to her that, in this technologically advanced age, traditional mail is inefficient and inconvenient, but she was unresponsive. I told her that, in my busy schedule, it would be difficult to take the time to write and mail a letter to Delta and Song higher-ups, but she maintained that it was my only hope of ever seeing my fifteen dollars again.
When boarding the plane, I was horrified to learn that I would, indeed, have to check my personality with my bags, despite what the Happy Guide had promised. This flight, although it was technically a Song flight, would be on a Delta plane without any of the Song signature amenities. Not only was the ICEMAN unable to continue exerting his unbelievable supremacy in the music trivia circuit, but I was without the Song flight’s excellent selection of mp3 channels to listen to.
Fifteen dollars can be used to buy a CD, which could have more than made up for the lack of mp3 selection.
Instead of having a wide selection of satellite TV channels, I was told that our only option for in-flight video entertainment was a movie, The Rules of Attraction. I had not seen the movie, but I knew that it starred James Van Der Beek of Dawson’s Creek, one of my favorite visual media artists. My interested was piqued, and I prepared to tune in.
To my great dismay, I had again been misled. The movie was not The Rules of Attraction at all, but The Laws of Attraction. The latter features the ever emasculating Pierce Brosnan, and was thus humiliating for all of us non-incredibly-charming-and-delightfully-British men on the flight. Anyone sane would agree that James Van Der Beek is far more reasonable looking, and his presence broadcast over a large screen on the airplane would not make me feel, in any way, like less of a man.
Fifteen dollars can be used to purchase a glossy photograph of James Van Der Beek, available from the German fansite www.jamesvanderbeek.de.
As so many of my fellow overweight Americans are wont to do, I decided to drown my sorrows in spreadable cheese. I ordered, from the flight attendant, a “Song Picnic,” along with a package of Pringles and a Song Candy Crunch Cookie. I told her that I intended to pay with my Delta travel certificate. She was resistant to this idea, first arguing that I should be using a Song travel certificate. When I explained that I was given the Delta certificate because of a mistake made on a Song flight and that we were, after all, on a Delta plane, she agreed to accept it, but said that she could not offer change. This arrangement, while clearly unfair, seemed acceptable to me at the time, so disappointed was I with my flight thus far. She went away, I assumed to get my order, and returned with another, more important seeming flight attendant. They, together, explained that the travel certificate could not be used for food. This was surprising to me, since nowhere in the Terms and Conditions of the travel certificate was this made clear. They pointed out that, while it did not say that it could not be used towards the purchase of food, it also did not say that it could. I countered that it said it could be used for “travel related services,” which, in this case, clearly included food. Naturally, since Delta flights do not charge for food, there would be no reason to list food as something for which the travel certificate could be exchanged. They wanted nothing of this argument, and returned my gift certificate unredeemed. I have included a copy of the Terms and Conditions of the travel certificate.
Fifteen dollars could have been used to buy a variety of fine meats, cheeses, and crackers at any supermarket or grocery store, which would have more than sated the desires that led me to order the Song Picnic. Fifteen dollars could have purchased at least four cans of EZ Cheez spreadable cheese product and a box of crackers.
Though the rest of my trip went without incident, I am, needless to say, disgusted by the quality of my second flight and the larceny on my first. Despite my wealth of SkyMiles and my desire to accrue more, it will be extremely difficult for me, in good conscience, to fly Delta or Song again, especially if I am not refunded my fifteen dollars.
Fifteen dollars would have covered the difference between my ticket and the ticket on JetBlue.
Respectfully yours,
D. Ted Berg
Linguistic Technician
To my surprise, I heard back from Song Air Lines a couple weeks later:
Bob Ojeda, who knows a thing or two about changeups, tells me about changeups:
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I remember one time when we were with the Phillies [in 1991], this was before a game, Lenny [Dykstra] had blood coming out of both of his ears. He was panicked. He said, “Dude, what’s happening to me?” Somehow Lenny played that night, but with all the stuff he put in his body, you knew it wasn’t going to end well.
Seriously, does anyone know what it is you could put in your body to make it bleed from both ears? I want to know so I can continue staying far, far away from that stuff.
Click through and read Bob Klapisch’s article detailing Dykstra’s long, slow, public fall from grace. And for more, don’t miss Emma Span’s take on Dykstra for the Hall of Nearly Great.
After allowing two late runs that ultimately cost the Mets a win against the Nationals last night, Miguel Batista said he believes the Mets are the best team in baseball.
To his credit, that’s pretty much what you want baseball players believing and, when pressed, saying. It’s just funny timing to say it coming off six straight losses, the most recent of which is in part your fault.
Our man Brian Erni passed along this four-part article from Forbes outlining the differences between actual Japanese Kobe beef and the various meats sold as Kobe beef here in the U.S.
It’s an interesting read and it certainly debunks the claims to Kobe beef-dom made on menus everywhere, plenty of which come with ridiculous price tags. I’ve never gone in for $50 burgers anyhow, so it doesn’t much matter to me.
The most fascinating part of the article is when he suggests we can develop new breeds of cows that produce more delicious beef. I’m in for that. Sign me up. I’ve never in my life thought, “you know what? Beef could be better.” But the notion is pretty exciting.
Also worth noting: I’ve heard Pat LaFrieda beef is not made with real Pat LaFrieda.
A journey down the Wikipedia elephant-article rabbit-hole, prompted by reader Rob V., left me here.
From the Wikipedia: Tusko
Tusko is a popular name for captive elephants. It is about the least creative thing you could call an elephant besides “Elephanty.” Naming an elephant after one of its most recognizable features is like calling your dog “four-leggo” or your male mallard duck “greeny-head.” Naming your fish “Gil” is still cool, though.
Three elephants named Tusko have managed to overcome the stupidity of their names to achieve great fame, or at least a place on the page dedicated to elephants named Tusko.
The first notable elephant named Tusko was Tusko. Wait, hold on. For the sake of clarity, I will heretofore refer to the three notable elephants named Tusko as “Tusko the Mean,” “Tusko the Now-Tuskless,” and “Tusko in the Sky with Diamonds.”
Tusko the Mean is the earliest example of a famous elephant called Tusko known of by the Wikipedia. Tusko the Mean was known as Ned early in his life, but “Ned the Mean Elephant” doesn’t pop from a circus placard the way Tusko does. Decent band name though.
Tusko the Mean was captured from Siam in 1898, and grew to weigh some 15,000 pounds. That made him about a ton heavier than P.T. Barnum’s Jumbo, and earned him notoriety as the heaviest elephant in captivity. Perhaps it was all the jabs about his weight that finally set him off.
Sometime before 1922, Tusko defeated six bulls in some sort of fight in an arena in Juarez, Mexico. The Wikipedia doesn’t have any details — it’s from the source document — but it sounds like a pretty awful thing to turn a giant, exotic creature into a bullfighter, and also it seems like it’d be pretty hard to convince an elephant to wear those flamboyant bullfighter pants.
In 1922, while on tour through Washington’s Skagit Valley with the Al G. Barnes circus, Tusko the Mean got loose, either because he had been beaten or because he was drunk. He went on an all-night rampage through the town of Sedro-Woolley, destroying some lady’s chicken coop and scaring the bejeezus out of a local doctor.
By 1928, Tusko the Mean had been sold to a Portland, Oreg. amusement park, large parts of which he destroyed during a rampage prompted by a low-flying stunt plane. From there, Tusko the Mean was traded and sold and shipped around in various sideshow acts, and kept docile with whiskey. In 1932, Seattle mayor John Dore, disgusted by the elephant’s condition, confiscated Tusko the Mean and moved him to the Woodland Park Zoo. Finally well cared-for, Tusko the Mean died a year later of a blood clot in his heart.
Tusko in the Sky with Diamonds fell victim to a tragic and stupid science experiment in 1962. Researchers at the University of Oklahoma were interested in musth, a condition unique to male elephants in which their testosterone increases by a factor of 60, they secrete a thick, tar-like substance from glands on the sides of their heads, and they go bats–t crazy and try to destroy everything in sight.
Tusko in the Sky with Diamonds, an elephant at the nearby Oklahoma City Zoo, intrigued the scientists because he had gone on musth in the past. But it was 1962, and science in 1962 apparently amounted to giving test subjects a buttload of acid and seeing what happened. The researchers shot Tusko in the behind with a cartridge-syringe fired from a CO2 powered gun containing enough L.S.D. to get 3,000 people tripping face. The elephant only weighed as much as about 40 people, but the scientists justified giving Tusko in the Sky with Diamonds that much acid because cats and monkeys needed to have a ton of acid before they did anything.
What followed is about the most heartbreaking thing you’ll see in a science journal:
Tusko began trumpeting and rushing around the pen, a reaction not unlike the one he had shown the day before [when injected with a placebo]. However, this time his restlessness appeared to increase for 3 minutes after the injection; then he stopped running and showed signs of marked incoordination. His mate (Judy, a 15-year-old female) approached him and appeared to attempt to support him. He began to sway, his hindquarters buckled, and it became increasingly difficult for him to maintain himself upright. Five minutes after the inection he trumpeted, collapsed, fell heavily onto his right side, defecated, and went into status epilepticus. The limbs on the left side were hyperextended and held stiffly out from the body; the limbs on the right side were drawn up in partial flexion; there were tremors throughout…. The mouth was open, but breathing was extremely labored and stertorous, giving the impression of high respiratory obstruction due to laryngeal spasm. The tongue, which had been bitten, was cyanotic.
It continues like that. Tusko died an hour and 40 minutes after receiving a massive dose of LSD from scientists. The scientists concluded that their findings “may prove to be valuable in elephant-control work in Africa.” Right.
Tusko the Tuskless was born around 1971 and is still alive today in a Portland zoo. According to the Wikipedia, Tusko recently endured surgery to remove his tusks due to infection, which must be reasonably humiliating.
Other than that, though, Tusko the Tuskless doesn’t have it all that bad. He is in the Portland zoo for stud work and has sired two calves with one female, with plans to mate with the zoo’s two other female elephants as well. Before coming to Portland, he sired two calves in Canada and one in California. He is the Shawn Kemp of notable elephants named Tusko.
The Hall of Nearly Great book, which came out today, features most of my favorite baseball writers in the world. Also: Me. I wrote about John Olerud and I hope I did him justice. You can find out by buying the book, which is available in various digital forms.
I went on a brief Twitter rant about this last night in response to some Mets fans clamoring for Jonathan Broxton: Though his ERA looks good, Broxton has been nothing like the pitcher he was when he was awesome. Chris McShane spells out the details at Amazin’ Avenue.
If Broxton’s available for just money and the Mets have money to burn, then sure, the Mets should take him on just because he’s not currently a member of their bullpen. Still, if they have any sort of capped budget for taking on money, I have to believe that money could be better spent elsewhere. If it weren’t for Sandy Alderson’s steady hand at the wheel, it’d be pretty easy to imagine Broxton coming to the Mets then pitching to his peripherals, prompting all sorts of woe-is-us stuff from everywhere.
Tedquarters 