The World Series

So, the 2009 World Series is upon us. Yankees vs. Phillies. "The Turnpike Series", as pundits have taken to calling it. Frankly, I find the nickname ironic, since the Turnpike in question is in New Jersey, a state that is home to neither the Phillies nor the Yankees. It would be analagous to calling an NFL playoff game between the Buffalo Bills and the Cleveland Browns, "The Northwest Pennsylvania Grudge Match". Of course, the proper name for a playoff matchup between the Bills and the re-incarnated Browns would be "Not in Our Lifetime - What Are You Smoking?"

The real dilemma, however, is what should this longtime suffering Mets fan do? Root for the hated crosstown rivals? Root for the hated divisional rivals? Root for injuries?

My daughters, in spite of their allegiance to the Mets, think Derek Jeter is cute. And it's hard not to recognize Mariano Rivera's long term excellence. So it seems the lesser of two evils is the Yankees.

If I sound funny, it's because I am holding my nose.

Is this sign really necessary?

This photograph was taken at North Branch Park in Somerset County, NJ. One has to wonder: Is a person who is stupid enough to fire off a rocket during a horse show also likely to suffer from illiteracy?

Radio Interview

First live radio interview Tuesday, August 11

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WNJC 1360 AM Philadelphia - 7:00-7:30 pm with Joe Fermano: "How to Use Your Life". After the fact, go to http://www.joefermano.com to listen to the show.

Is that hailstone bigger than a bread basket?

Ever notice how hailstones are always communicated by their size in relation to other objects?

Apparently we are too stupid in the minds of the weather broadcasters to know what it means when someone says "half inch diameter hail". Instead, we are told that the hail is "grape sized".

Over the weekend, there were reports of "golf ball sized hail" in New Jersey. I wonder how many people know that a golf ball has a minimum size (1.68 inches), but there is no maximum size? I'll bet most people didn't even know that most golf balls are, in fact, 1.68 inches in diameter. So comparing hail to golf balls is really an indeterminate measure.

On the other hand, it would be fun to flip it around. Imagine at next year's British Open, over the sound of the wind whipping across the Scottish links, the announcer with the English accent whispers, "...and Tiger Woods just hit his hail-sized golf ball into the tall grass."

The Magic Tumblers

When The Queen and I were married, we received as a wedding gift a set of 16 glass tumblers. They were beautiful, but they were so obviously fragile that we knew they would never last. It looked like a glass would break just by looking at it, let alone putting it through the dishwasher - and that was before we had triplets. My sister and her husband, who were married only 10 weeks earlier, received the same exact gift. So that at least one of us would be able to keep a complete set, my sister gave us hers. The tumblers are used several times a week, so it's not like we have hidden them from sight.

We just broke our first one - 18.5 years later. At this rate, my sister's set will be exhausted (still leaving us a complete set) in the year 2287.

Baby on Board

While waiting in the seemingly endless line of cars attempting to traverse under the Hudson River through the Lincoln Tunnel, I happened to spot two cars that were adorned with yellow diamond window signs indicating "Baby On Board". As neither car had tinted windows and no one was moving very fast that morning, it was relatively easy to discern that the lone occupant of each vehicle was a female driver.

It makes one wonder to whom the yellow sign was referring, and what kind of harassment lawsuit would be initiated if one of the attendants at the toll plaza read the text and offered the greeting, "Hi there, baby!".

International Star Registry

Are you familiar with the International Star Registry? This company has been around for a while – I catch their advertisements on the radio now and again. For anywhere from $54 to $500 you can name a star. Basically what happens is they locate one of the billions of stars in the heavens, affix your name to it, and record the name and location in a copyrighted book. Then they send you some type of commemorative materials to celebrate the occasion (just how commemorative determines the price of the package).

I have no problem with this. If people are entertained by it and feel that they have received something of value for their money, who am I to judge? However, it does make one wonder if each of those other billions of stars out there have enterprising individuals on their respective planets who are busily selling $54 naming packages that include our own sun.

In fact, it seems to me that when the Galactic Council convenes in Stardate 9467 (after we have developed interstellar space flight), the biggest challenge is going to be sorting out all the names.

In the meantime, I have come up with a variation on this theme as a way to ease our own federal deficit: Sell off the naming rights to the planets:

• Mercury – Club Med
• Venus – 1-800-Flowers
• Mars (the red planet) – Coca Cola
• Earth – Planet Microsoft (Bill Gates is the only one who can still afford it)
• Jupiter – Wal-Mart
• Saturn (rings) - DeBeers
• Uranus – Preparation H
• Neptune – Evian
• Pluto – Disney
• Asteroid Belt – Starbucks – they are everywhere, but seem to be a bit frayed around the edges these days.