Fragments

This section is a catch-all. There is no logical organization to it, and most of the things in here are just what the title says they are--fragments. Some of them I had intended to expand into essays, but I lost interest or forgot what the point was going to be before I got around to them. Some of them are collections of things I thought were neat for one reason or another, and some are things I intended to use in stories someday. I doubt I'll ever find a place for most of them. I'm a packrat, though, and I can't bear to throw them away.

**Contents**
Rules of the Game	The Popeye Threshold	From the Bottom of the Bucket	A
The Journalist	On Laughter	On Writing	Fishing

Rules of the Game

Baseball is a cruel game, and it will break your heart if you let it.
Never trust a pitcher. They are born deceivers; they will tell you a lie when the truth would do.
Always grip the bat with the brand up.
Know that fly balls are like fingerprints and snowflakes--no two are alike.
Check the wind frequently when you are in the field. When the ball goes in the air, stay on its leeward side.
Catch with two hands whenever possible.
Keep your head still and watch the ball.

The Five Rules of Hustle

Run from the dugout to your position.
Get down and ready before every pitch.
If the ball isn't hit to you, go someplace where you can help if something goes wrong.
Never sit or kneel on the field of play.
Run from your position back to the dugout.

The Popeye Threshold

In the old cartoons there always came a point where Bluto was beating the crap out of Popeye. Then, when things looked bleakest, Popeye would say in that marvelous voice, "That's all I can stands, I can't stands no more", and reach for a can of spinach.

That's what I call the Popeye threshold. It's that point where you get mad as hell and decide you're not going to take it any more. Its where Rocky gets up off the mat and begins to fight. Its where Shane straps on his six-shooter again and rides off toward town looking for Jack Wilson. Its where the tide turns and goodness begins to triumph.

Everybody has a Popeye threshold, but most folks get to it only once or twice in a lifetime. When they do, it can be a wonderful thing to watch.

The Journalist

Nobody in the office saw him go. He took a last furtive look around, and dived into his journal. He slipped quietly beneath the surface of the page, with barely a ripple to show where he had entered. It was a clean getaway. One moment he was sitting at his desk; the next he was gone.

On the other side of the page, he emerged into an open forest of oaks and hickories. There was little underbrush; the cool shade moved restlessly with the breeze that stirred the leaves far above. He stood on the side of a steep hill that descended to a stream. Looking horizontally out through the forest, he saw the matching hillside on the other side of the stream. The sun flashed on the water below, and somewhere in the distance a crow cawed three times.

He was free.

On Laughter

Mark Twain said man is the only animal that blushes. But aren't we also the only one that laughs? Maybe that is our real purpose on earth--to inject laughter into the atmosphere. Maybe laughter is what preserves and protects life on the planet. Maybe the dinosaurs went extinct from a lack of laughter in the air.

The problem with laughter is that you have to keep replenishing it because it evaporates so quickly. When the supply gets too low, bad things happen. I'll bet if you check history, you'll find that all world disasters--depressions, wars, epidemics, famines--coincided with a decrease in the world's laughter level. And I'll also bet that the recoveries from these disasters didn't begin until the supply of laughter picked up again. Coincidence? Maybe, maybe not.

Once you have genuinely laughed with someone, your relationship has changed forever. It is hard to be devious or hateful with someone with whom you've shared a belly laugh.

I'm convinced that if we just laugh enough, everything will be O.K.

Fishing

Life is a lot like fishing. Most folks are content to sit on the bank with a can of worms and a cane pole and wait for perch to bite, while a few magnificent fools grab harpoons and rush to sea in search of whales.

From the Bottom of the Bucket

Things were better when folks raised their own chickens.

Beneath that sweet and pretty exterior beats a heart like a piece of sleet--very small, very hard, and very cold.

You don't allow people any room to be fools.

Chocolate Chomp Cookies

"Your daddy was a jazz trumpet in the symphony orchestra of life."

Miss Peculiar

She was a well-hootered honey.

"He my huzzbun."

"When you lean forward like that, you provide a very provocative view," he said.
"I know," she replied.

She specialized in testiclectomies.

Veterinarian: A doctor who makes horse calls.

People who call talk radio shows and begin by saying, "Thanks for taking my call," should be hunted down and publicly humiliated.

Middle age is when women cease being a mystery to you and become merely a general pain in the ass.

"Name?"
"Cosgood Wurmley"
"Middle initial?"
"With a name like that, my parents didn't feel I needed one."

"Drink lots of fluids and stay home in bed, right?"
"And vitamin C."
"Invite who and see what?"

"That's not in my ballywhack."

Smoke detector = fire distinguisher.

Central Expressway = rabid transit

Runners shorthand distance terms:
1/2 mi = 1 round, as in, "I ran around."
1 mi = 1 while
2 mi = 1 stray
3 mi = 1 foul
4 mi = 1 mok
10 mi = 1 lone
15 mi = 1 ground

"You know that old saying, 'A piece of ass and a bicycle ride would kill you?'"
"Yeah."
"Well, I'm just damned glad my bicycle is broke this morning."

"What holds that dress up," he asked.
"Tits." she said.

She was a big bass drum of a woman who never let femininity interfere with her desires.

"Hello there, young lady."
"I am NOT a young lady."
"No, you certainly aren't, are you?"