Three T206 Baseball Card Sales

Okay, so a long-time wish of mine may actually come true this summer. I've wanted to open up my own baseball card store, or at least deal in them with a guy I do business with on eBay on a more frequent basis. So I took a test drive on 18 cards, and I've done the business math on 3 of them. Overall I made a profit of $149.62 on just 3 cards! Buying on eBay and yard sales in the summer; took just minutes for each; just had to go to the post office. $59.62 profit on the Keeler. $51.02 on the Evers. $39 on the Brown.

Just did all the math. I originally spent $523.87 on all 18 cards. They all sold for $652.90. So the profit was $129.03. Total time buying all these and going to the post office to sell them would be about 2, maybe 2 1/2 hours total. That's about $50-$60 per hour, sitting on my ass in my central air office, with no overhead. I learned: Deal mostly in HOFers; and buy in the summer and sell in the winter.

Willie "Hit 'em Where They Ain't" Keeler, batting. Hall of Famer. Paid $62.88. Sold 1.23.2018 for $122.50. Profit: $59.62.

Johnny Evers, with bat, another Hall of Famer. Paid $44.98. Sold for $96. Profit: $51.02.

And "Three Finger" Mordecai Brown, another HOFer. Paid $30.54 raw, add about $10 to get it graded, mailing, etc. So say $41.00. Sold for $80. Profit: $39.00.

So I sold these three, plus 15 more, via Probstein123 on eBay, for a total of $652.90. On these three cards alone I saw a profit of $149.62. Not too bad. Maybe I'll try to do this part-time over the summer, see how it works.

They Lie #2 "Interest Free for 6 Years"

I'm no Warren Buffet. (See the photo. That's Warren Buffett. From his own Wikipedia page.) I have a tax guy and a retirement guy because I don't know enough about taxes and retirement portfolios to do them myself. (Or do I? Hmmm...) But at my age (Don't ask; I'm not telling), I do know a thing or two about saving money and not overspending, which is the same thing. And I know enough to know that people, businesses and organizations will lie to make themselves a buck. As House used to say, "Everybody lies." And as I say...Well, see the previous blog about lies by clicking here.

So here's how a local (and national, I think) furniture store lied in a mailing recently:

It sent me a red, white and blue (July 4th week, right? Plus I'll bet it works subliminally) offer that said I could get any mattress or piece of furniture I wanted, and I wouldn't have to pay any interest for over 6 years. That 6 year thing was shown twice, in giant multi-colored print, twice on the same one page of this thing.

So there's a lot wrong here.

First, I noticed right away that there was not one single photo of a mattress of piece of furniture. (See the photo below? Furniture, right? Not one single photo of something like that in this ad. The photo is from jordans.com/living-room, by the way.) So what's being sold here? Furniture and mattresses? Nope. The furniture store is selling its payment options. And the option here is to get whatever you want, interest-free, for 6 years. So that struck me as odd, that a furniture store was focusing on its payment and interest options. Why would it do that? Well, I'll bet that they make more money on the interest payments than they do on their own furniture. That's why car companies sell cars the same way in TV ads. You see the car on the road, but the guys babble about the interest payments, or the no-interest, or the leasing options. They make more money off the money than they do off the car. Same here with furniture. Good for them, bad for you. Why? Because if someone's making money off your money, you're paying too much money. If you weren't, there wouldn't be any surplus money for them to make money off of. You'd pay just the price for the furniture, for example, so the store, the supplier and the employees get paid, but that's it. They have to move on. If someone's making money off your money, which is what interest is, then you're paying too much money. You don't want to do that.

Secondly, and maybe more important, YOU NEVER WANT TO PAY INTEREST ON ANYTHING, EVER, FOR ANY REASON. That's so important that I put it in impolite and angry caps. But the word "interest" is a swear word, right up there with mother----er and the C-word. In fact, it's even worse, because like an STD, once you've got it, you're never going to be able to make it go away. Right? Do you owe interest payments on a credit card? How about your student loans? Look at your mortgage. How much are you paying in interest? Interest in mortgages are unavoidable if you want a house (I've got 2 mortgages, so I know), but in everything else it is very easily avoidable. (If I can't afford to pay the monthly credit card bill, I don't buy it. And come hell or high water, I WILL pay off that credit card bill in full, and I will not make monthly payments on it, ever, for any reason. I don't have a cent of credit card debt, and I had no life for a few years after I got my degree so that I could pay off my student loans all at once, so I don't own a cent of student loans, either. But I truthfully was lifeless for a few years as I saved to pay off that bad boy.) If it's not an emergency--and I'm talking someone is dying here, or your house is about to cave in--and if you don't have the money, you don't buy it. Period. This furniture ad in the mail was banking on the fact (See what I did there?) that people are so used to interest payments, that the real kicker of the ad was the interest-free option and not the furniture. That's crazy. Because, once again, if you're paying interest, you're paying too much for something. There's no second course. If you're trying to lose weight, there's no dessert after dinner. And if you're trying to stay out of debt, there's no interest after the one initial payment.

You might think that you've got 6 years to pay that thing off, so you won't have to pay any interest at all. Fine--if that's true. But is it? What do you have to do to get the 6 years of no interest? What do you have to sign for? I'll bet you'll have to get that furniture company's credit card, and you'll have to get an account with them, or with whomever runs their financial backing. So someone's already making money off of you, and they're betting that you won't pay it off in 6 years. I repeat, someone's making money off of you, and someone's betting against you. That's inherently negative and should scare you away.

Well, let's read the fine print. After every "6 Years" there's an *. An asterisk means there's a catch, a stipulation, and it means someone's trying to screw you. If they weren't, the information would be in as giant, multi-colored print as the "6 Years." There's another * after "No minimum purchase" and a tiny crucifix (Why hasn't someone harped on that blasphemy, using a tiny crucifix symbol to screw people out of their own money?) after "No money down." They're also betting you won't read the fine print. No one ever reads the fine print. You should always read the fine print. So let's read the fine print. And I'm looking for the answer to the question: How much would the interest be?

Whoa! If you don't pay the amount in time, you'll be hit with 29.99% interest! Holy crap! That means you'll owe in interest $30 for every $100 you haven't paid. That's crazy! That's $300 for every $1000. That's insane. Is that worth the risk? Hell no! If you don't have any credit card debt, your own credit card has a lower APR than that. And, furthermore, you're already thinking badly because if you can't afford to pay it on your very next month's credit card bill, you shouldn't buy it at all. You can't afford to think that you have 6 years to pay that off. I can't. I can only afford to think that I've got 1 MONTH to pay it off, and if I can't do that, I don't buy it. Period. And, yes, my furniture's older, but it's comfortable enough. And, yes, I do deserve better--but that doesn't mean that I'm going to get it, or that I'm entitled to it. I have to earn it, and if I don't have the money for it in 30 days, I haven't earned it. Don't start down that interest-free road, because you don't know where that road ends. And "interest-free" doesn't mean "free." And if you're playing games with interest, you'll lose.

Photo: An asterisk in an early Greek papyrus. It's possible people were getting screwed with it then, about 2,000 years ago. From the Wikipedia page for the word "asterisk."

And it says here: "For $X a month you could redecorate every room in your entire home." No. No you can't. It takes a few grand to do that, and if you're like me, you won't be able to pay back a few grand in 6 years. If you can, then wait those 6 years and save and pay cash for everything so nobody makes a dime off your money and you're not in debt. Redecorating my home with brand new furniture would cost over $10,000. There's no way in hell I'd be able to pay that off in 10 years, never mind 6. And that'll be $3,000 extra in interest. So instead of $10,000, I'd owe $13,000.

And it doesn't say here that you can pay more than your equal monthly payment. Because you want to pay that off before the 6 years, right? To do that, you have to pay more than the equal monthly payment, every single month. If you're not allowed to do that--if you have to pay just the equal monthly payment so that you're stuck with this contract for exactly 6 years, then you're screwed. Because crap happens, and you're going to fall behind on a payment, maybe even the very last one, 6 years later, and your now in debt, or at the very least your credit takes a big hit.

No thanks. I'm throwing it away. Actually, I'm throwing it in the firepit, so I don't have to buy kindling. I'll save money off of the money this furniture company paid to mail this to me. So help me, I'll make money off of them.

And so that's how they lie. Misdirection, in this case. This furniture company is selling money with this ad, not furniture. Always ask yourself, "What would they gain doing that?" If someone were to call them up and ask them if they made more money off its payment plans or its furniture, I'll bet they'll say the payment plans. And that's how they lie. Not as bad as the flat-out lies meant to actually fool me like the last blog. This isn't for a power trip or for political gain. And everyone's got to make a buck, so this doesn't make me angry like the last one, but still...Ain't nothing for free in this world, right? Not even 6 years of interest-free payments. If it sounds too good to be true, it is. Especially if there's money involved. (Some things, and some people, are actually as good as they sound. But not if there's money involved.)

Next time on "They Lie": A mortgage company insisting they're holding a really low interest payment percentage for me that's actually higher than the one I already have.

This Week in Review: Trump, Bill O'Reilly, Aaron Hernandez, Tom Brady and Sean Spicer

Photo: from isitfunnyoroffensive.com, here (at your own risk). United's newest "passenger removal specialist."

Hey, it's been a few weeks! Mostly my absence was due to an illness that felt like a minor-league flu, but wasn't (I think). Fever up to 101 for a few days; really bad throat and ear pain; fuzzy and congested head (which I have normally anyway). I still have a lingering minor cough and fuzziness/congestion and ear pain, a few weeks and two different antibiotics later. Twice a doctor has shined a light into my right ear and said, "Whoa, there's a lot of water build-up there." Could've been worse, I could've met United's newest employee, pictured above, who calls himself a "passenger removal specialist."

Anyway, there's been a lot of crap lately to get my mind off it. Among these:

--Bill O'Reilly, who's made a (lucrative) living blowharding about "values" and telling people how to behave, has been paying off women over the last 15 years so they don't sue him for sexual harassment. To the tune of $13 million, that is, and I'll bet that's conservative. (See what I did there?) What a hypocrite! Is it me, or does it seem that everyone who makes a living telling others how they should live is a hypocritical dirtbag?

--And even then, Fox only let him go after the sponsors started pulling out. Which shows you it's, unfortunately, not about sexual harassment, but about dollars.

--By the way, O'Reilly's publisher, Henry Holt, has stated that it will still work with him. "Our plans have not changed," Holt said in an email, according to the New York Times. O'Reilly's latest best-selling book titles: Killing Lincoln, Killing Kennedy, Killing Jesus, Killing Patton, and Killing Reagan. I am not making those up. Read into the similarities what you will, but you don't need to read books from Henry Holt Publishing anymore, right? I don't (if I do already). I don't normally advocate not reading, but we don't need to support this dirtbag. There's plenty of other things to read.

Photo: from his own Wikipedia page. 

--And in any dictionary, next to the word "smug."

--Bill O'Reilly was given a severance package as high as $25 million, by the way. Add to that the approximate $13 million Fox paid to women he sexually harassed, and that's $38 million Fox had paid to kiss his butt, not counting his actual salary. His latest contract, just recently signed, was for $18 million a year--which he won't collect. Fox had an out-clause: it was void if any new allegations and lawsuits were filed against him. Hmmm...You think Fox knew anything?

--And this is after Fox Chairman Roger Ailes had to resign over his own sexual harassment woes. Despite this, Fox was still willing to pay the money for O'Reilly and sweep him under the rug. Rather than clean house all at once, Fox was willing to let it go on.

--And Fox has been putting on conservative "news" for years about proper values and behavior. Sexually harassing women? Check. Gay marriage? No.

--Scumbags.

--Speaking of scumbags, so Aaron Hernandez was (somehow) acquitted of double-homicide, then hanged himself in his cell with a bedsheet, the same day the Super Bowl-winning Patriots visited the White House. If you think that's a coincidence, I want to drink your Kool-Aid. This is what narcissistic sociopaths do, right to the bitter end. That'll show them, he thought.

Photo: from the Huffington Post, at this website


--He also scribbled John 3:16 on his forehead. It reads: "For God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in [H]im may not perish, but may have life everlasting." That's a narcissistic That'll show 'em, too. Again, all about him. That's not religious belief. That's self-importance. And power. Actual religious people are the ones not killing people. This act is an offense to every Christian out there. Narcissistic sociopaths will do anything, and believe anything, that benefits them. Unless you think he was actually seriously religious. Again, I'll take a glass of that.

Photo: Tom and Gisele, from the International Business Times, at this website. These two are so used to the limelight that they know they'll look better together if they're looking in opposite directions.

--I normally don't give a damn about the politics or beliefs of my favorite athletes, but I have to give kudos to Tom Brady, who at the last minute pulled out of a visit to the White House this week. He'll deny it was a political move, but a) Gisele posted an anti-Trump tweet this week (and as Gisele goes, Tom Brady goes); and b) Tom Brady has been quoted many times supporting Trump, speaking for him, and basically being Defense Exhibit A of why I don't care about the politics of my favorite athletes (See also: Curt Schilling). But to blow off Trump at the last second on a worldwide stage is a gutsy move, because we all know it will anger him. And it speaks very loudly, no matter what PC spin all three will put on it. I don't know why he did it (except, as Gisele goes, so does Tom Brady), but I'm glad he did. I might actually try his workout and diet plans, too. Which are really out there.

--Prince died a year ago. I can't believe I just typed that, but it's so.

Photo: from entertainment.ie, here

--There've been idiots in American politics since there's been an America, but Sean Spicer must be the most verbally handicapped one I've ever seen--and I've been keeping track since 2001. He makes Dubya look like he actually passed Yale with his own intellectual capacity. Dubya is an Oxford don next to this guy. If all the crap Spicer said before this week didn't open your eyes, drop your jaw and make you shake your head like a wet dog, surely this week's verbal diarrhea did it for you. Hitler didn't use gas?!? Holocaust centers?!? Bottom line: this is a national spokesman who cannot speak. And this doesn't just shock and awe Americans. It pisses off people across the world, including Germans, who haven't been our biggest fans since Trump refused to shake Andrea Merkel's hand, twice. What is it with this administration's problem with Jews, anyway? (Look up "Trump" and "National Holocaust Museum.") Now that O'Bannon is out, let's see what happens. If nothing does, we'll have to face the fact that it isn't just him, but the entire administration. (P.S.--It's all of them.)

Jeff Bagwell and Ivan Rodriguez

Photos: from my own collection

A little side note before we begin: Bagwell signed one of the most player-friendly contracts ever. In 2005, he had 100 at-bats and 25 hits, and for this he got paid $18,000,000. Yes, that's 18 million bucks. That's $720,000 per base hit. Yes. What most professionals get paid in 10 years, he got per base hit, just in 2005. But it gets better. In 2006, he got paid over $19,000,000. Yes, 19 million bucks. That was #1 for all of baseball that year. He got paid more than anybody. For how many hits? 0. That's right, 0. He was injured and couldn't play, but that money was guaranteed. Like Pablo Sandoval last year for the Sox, he got paid $19M in 2006 not to play. For his career, he made over $128,000,000. Today, because of 10 years of inflation, that would be worth $169,000,000--an increase in 10 years of $41 million. And all he had to do was sit down and watch it happen. $41 million for doing nothing more than counting his money. If I ever hit it big doing anything, I want his agent.

And a little side note about Ivan Rodriguez: He's the 2nd catcher I've ever heard of nicknamed Pudge, and both guys are in the HOF. You should be ashamed of yourself if you don't know the name of the other guy.

See Bagwell's stats here.

See Rodriguez's stats here.

The Cards

Anyway, these two cards--both from the 1991 Topps Traded Set--are in PSA Gem Mint 10 Condition and can be had at decent prices.

My Rodriguez card cost $22.67 total, including shipping. This was a decent buy, as I saw some for about $2 to $5 less, but I also saw it go for a heckuva lot more than that. Some of those bought prices were crazy--up to $40+ for a card worth about $20. Craziness. There were a few who paid overall a couple of bucks less, and a couple of bucks more, than I did. I got this one from a Woonsocket place, not too far from my neck in the woods, and it was delivered the next day. I might drive up there sometime and check out his store. His ebay handle is rwm8218, and it was at a good price at next-day delivery, so if you're in New England and you're looking for cards, and you want it fast, give him a look on ebay. I was the only one who bid on this one, and the bidding started at $20--which is about average for the card--so his store on ebay is still small enough that you're not bidding against a ton of people. This is a highly sort after card, since Rodriguez just made the Hall of Fame, so the fact that it's been selling for more, but that I was the only one to bid on it at the asking price, tells you something. Sure, by pressing Sold Listings on ebay you can see that the top one sold for $20 +$2.67 shipping--that's me--and then the next one says it sold for $39.99 + shipping--that's the crazy one. Others sold for about $15 + shipping, so they paid a little less than I did, but that's followed by some $22 to $27 buys, all of whom paid more. So mine was about average, discarding the crazy high one and a crazy low one. As Rodriguez is just in the HOF, I expect this card to go up a little, so this will prove to be a slightly better than average buy.

The Bagwell card cost me $29.01 from someone in California. In all honesty, I made a rookie mistake here: I didn't look at the shipping before I bid. Had I done so, and seen that it was $4, I wouldn't have bought this. Overall I paid about $5 more than many, and about $5 less than a few. Overall, an average buy, not a steal, because of the shipping. I had first seen it at rwm8218, where it sold for $20, and someone else was the only bidder. That was a helluva price, a nice steal, better than the deal I got on his Rodriguez card and a helluva better deal than I got here. I'm still happy with the buy, and as Bagwell is just in the HOF as well, this will go up, so it'll prove to be an average buy, probably. But the lesson, again: If you want a deal, it's usually in the shipping, not in the price. Grrrrrrrrrrr...

So, the players...

Bagwell--if you're old enough, you already know this--was infamously traded by the Red Sox to Houston in 1990 for Larry Anderson, an average relief pitcher who'd had a helluva year in 1989, which overinflated his value. The Sox were constant losers in the playoffs--usually to the Oakland A's at the time--and were trying to get over the hump and advance further in the playoffs. They also had a 1st baseman at the time named Mo Vaughn, who was a consistent home run threat until he ate himself into an Angels uniform and then his career quickly ended. (All the Lady visits didn't help.) Anyway, Bagwell was a 1st baseman / DH type, which the Sox had a lot of, so they dealt him.

Bagwell was brought up immediately and won the Rookie of the Year Award, and then an MVP a few years later, and played 15 years--a short career derailed due to a bad back and shoulder--for Houston. He and Biggio made Houston legit for a few years, really put them on the map. They've been mostly legit since, with a few hiccup years in there. The bottom line about Bagwell--and you should see his stats here--is that he played the vast percentage of his team's games over the years, hitting more homers and drawing more walks than any 1st baseman, consistently, in the National League. His on-base %, RBIs, walks and his homerun totals are amongst the best ever, and baseball-reference.com's JAWS shows him to be the 6th best 1st baseman ever, after the likes of Gehrig, Foxx, Pujols and Cap Anson (and Roger Conor, and look at that guy's stats, please, because I know you've never heard of him), and higher than Miguel Cabrera (after 14 years) and Frank Thomas--which is damn impressive. If you're younger, you may not have ever heard of Bagwell because he played in Houston and because he was very, very quiet and shy to the media. Had he been a Yankee or Red Sox, he'd be a household name today. There is the steroid taint on him, of course, and he did balloon from a stick to King Kong, but don't get me started about how HOF writers shouldn't moralize, because I can show you that probably 85% or more of the best players of his era used. I don't condone it, of course, and it is extremely unhealthy for you...His election, and Piazza's, means that the writers are officially ready to open the door for players of this era who probably used. Bagwell was never accused officially, nor officially caught, using steroids, ever. Those whispers means he made it to the HOF on his 7th try when he should've made it on his first. JAWS says he was a better player in his career than Miguel Cabrera is now. Think about that for a second. He was the best quiet player I ever saw. If he and Biggio, who had over 3,000 hits and got on base almost as frequently, had had any quality players in the lineup with them at all consistently over the years, the Astros would've been a playoff powerhouse. Alas, not the case, and they rarely had the pitching as well. I've been making the Bagwell for the HOF case for a few years, as you know if you've read this blog, so I'm glad he's in.

Ivan Rodriguez--Pudge--also had the steroid whispers follow him around, mostly because of his remarkable durability at the toughest baseball position. People my age remember him as the only guy we've ever seen who crouched behind the plate with his right leg stretched out all the way, his left knee on the ground. From this truly unique position--without moving from it--he could throw out runners trying to steal second with a career-long consistency over 46%. Most years he was over 50% and 60%. For those of you who don't know, today 35% is fair and 40% is good. Most years he was between 50% to 60%. He won 13 Gold Gloves as a catcher, including 10 straight. Take that defense--by far the best all-time at that position--and throw in almost 3,000 hits. He finished with over 2,800 hits, but would have had well over 3,000 had he played any other position. He was so good defensively that he was maybe the best hitting catcher never moved away from the position, because you would waste all that ability putting him anywhere else, including DH. Even Yogi Berra played a ton of games in left field, and Piazza played some at first. In 21 years, Rodriguez played just 57 games at DH and just 8 at 1st base. He played 2,427 games behind the plate, the most ever. That, from a guy who had almost 3,000 hits, is remarkable. Rodriguez always--and I mean every day--played the game with a huge Cheshire Cat smile, and a lot of happiness and energy. He never complained about anything--as well he shouldn't, also having made more than $122,000,000 for his career, or over $156M with inflation since his retirement. You should see his stats here, and you can see the money at the end of the page. All stats and dollar figures for this entry via baseball-reference.com. That website has him as the #3 catcher of all-time, behind Bench and Carter. We remember him from the Texas Rangers, of course, but in his spare time in 2003 he helped the Marlins win the World Series, which I actually remember. He had the NLCS of his life that year, and won its MVP, mostly with his bat.

Both guys were quiet, though Pudge's defense made him look flashy. I watched the careers of both guys, who both started in 1991, and I'm happy as hell to see them in the Hall, especially Pudge.

By the way, Pudge #1 was Carlton Fisk. You knew that, right?

Merry Christmas

Photo: From a Xmas card given to me this year by a co-worker. (Sorta looks like another co-worker.)

Just a quick post to say Merry Christmas. Thanks to all my readers--We broke 100,000 pageviews today! I'm honored that so many wanted to click on something I wrote, even if it was my better half 100,000 times. (Just kidding. I started the blog long before I knew her.)

Thanks also to those who read yesterday's blog (Skip to the last sentence if you read about this yesterday) about helping a man who was hit, with his two dogs, by a speeding car. One dog just came back yesterday, after being missing a week! The other one is alive, but in need of an operation to either fix his leg or to amputate it. The operation will cost $7,500, and there's a GoFundMe page set up here:

https://www.gofundme.com/help-us-take-care-of-angus

I know it's a financially strapped time of year, but please do what you can for Angus, a really cute-looking dog. Here he is:

The one who returned yesterday is going to need a little TLC as well, so anything you can do for these local dogs would be appreciated. (Some have given $5, which is still great.) Out of the $7,500 needed, $2,490 has been raised. Every penny or dollar helps.

And that's it! Have a great and safe holiday! May Santa be good to you, every single year.

A Bat in My Bathroom -- Musings by the Firepit 7.9.16

Photo: I would've taken a pic of the bat in my bathroom (yes), but I'd chickened out.

So I've been away for about three weeks from this blog. As I sit here, after musing by the firepit, I'll share partly why I've been away:

--A close family member passed, someone who was sort of a second father to me, especially after my real one passed. Wake and funeral, and I was honored to be a pallbearer, and then...well, I just didn't feel like doing much for awhile. I won't lie: I had the Poor-Me's. This made me feel even worse, and then I told myself to get over myself, and, well, it got ugly.

--I finally decided to update my cell, as I tired of everyone scoffing at it. So what if it was about 5-6 years old? It was the one I got to replace my flip-top! So I was eligible for a free upgrade, as you might imagine, which means (I told my better half) that I would be relieved of a couple hundred bucks, instead of more. I got the newest Samsung Galaxy, and a tablet, and I upgraded my cell phone account and my cable account, as I was paying a lot for things I wasn't using. I walked out of there with better contracts that cost me the same I'm paying now, but with more HD, a better box, and a free tablet. The phone wasn't exactly free, as I suspected, but would instead cost me much less than its $400 cost if I broke it down over infinite months, with a rebate, etc. But the newest stuff makes it worthwhile, especially the camera (you can judge by the pic above, as compared to all past pics on this blog) and the email access. And I'm not a tech guy, but boy the camera is much better and it's now so easy to delete emails at doctor offices and during commercials.

photo: from wildlife-removal.com, here. One of these guys was in my bathroom for about 12 hours.

--I got a bat in my house. I mean, the flying kind. You have not lived until you have seen a bat hanging upside-down from your bathroom window.

I was working on the same PC (yes, I know, why not the tablet? Or the phone? Or my Mac?) at about 1 a.m. when I heard something fluttering outside my office door, in the hallway. I knew immediately what it was. Unhappy. (I figure it came in when I walked inside from the upper deck after watching mucho fireworks up and down the bay and cove where I live.) It flew into my bathroom, and I shut the door. Then I called the Wildlife Emergency number I found on the internet. It said it was 24-hours, but I had to leave a message. They haven't called back yet, and it's been several days now. I then called a pest control company that handled bats (not all do). I said to the woman, "I have a bat in my bathroom." She said, "Oh, no! Say it isn't so!" I then left my contact numbers and my email and was told Fred would be there from 10-12 a.m. This was at about 11 p.m. I checked in my bathroom, with stealth. I didn't see it. I walked in. It flew out of my shower and I ran out and closed the door. I couldn't sleep until about 5 a.m. My better half got me up at 7 a.m. and I was wide awake. I peeked in again: it was hanging upside down from my Venetian blinds, exactly where I'd stand to do my #1 morning business, if you know what I'm sayin'. Good thing I saw it fluttering and didn't just walk in there at 7 a.m. the next morning like I normally would. I would slowly look to my right as I was draining, and I would get the shock of my life. And probably bitten. You would've heard me from wherever you live.

photo: from bat-house.net. This is the bathouse I have on a tree in my backyard. But, unlike this one, which you can see is on a telephone pole, bats don't want to go in mine. Apparently, they prefer my real house--specifically, my bathroom. See all those little guys in this one?!? Ewwww...

Anyway, I call the place back at 11:55, as Fred had not showed. I got transferred to five different people. The last one repeated back to me incorrect phone numbers for Fred to call me, and I admit to being upset. Surprisingly, Fred arrives. First thing out of his mouth: "So, what's the problem?" I said, "I have a bat in my bathroom." He turns pale and asks me if I'm serious. He'd shown up in a regular car, carrying a large screwdriver. (?) I said I was serious. He calls his supervisor, who must've said to hit me with the plans they offer. He'll get rid of the bat either way, but his boss correctly guessed that I'd be so freaked that I'd buy their biggest package of long-term care. Turns out, I did just that, to the tune of over $1,300. It involved a total concealment of my home and roof, except they couldn't put down screens on the roof until after August 1st, as it's against the law, because what if a mama bat lays eggs in my attic, but then she leaves from the screen and can't get back in and all the baby bats die in my attic? The baby bats are federally protected until the end of September. My attic and my sanity aren't. So these two guys came over the next day and laid down lots of traps, and heavy sticky things, and squirted black goo around my home's perimeter, and in the attic, and in the basement, and on my upper deck, though I reminded everyone that I think the damn thing had flown in when I opened the door. They told me that bats and mice need just a dime of space to get in. They spent about three hours here.

But I digress. Fred needed to get rid of the bat, and he was clearly unhappy about it. He kept calling his supervisor, in the hope, I think, that this man would come over and do it instead. Apparently his advice was for Fred to throw a towel over the thing and pummel it with the handle of the monsterous screwdriver. I posited that we could open the bathroom door. I would stand on the parlor stairs waving a broom so it wouldn't go down there, or I could tape a sheet to cover the stairs. I would have all the upstairs doors closed, except the one that led to the room that led to the door that opened up to the deck, where I think the damn thing entered to begin with. We would essentially just chase it out that way. He called his supervisor back. This man again suggested a towel and some pummeling. I asked Fred if he'd ever done this before, at all, and he said No. I also asked him why he hadn't been told that I had a bat in my bathroom, as I'd mentioned that several dozens of times, and I wasn't happy with the wrong contact numbers, either, which I had also mentioned a ton of times. "Yeah, our home office sucks," he said. (I'd already written the check.) He took a picture of the hanging bat and texted it and emailed it to his supervisor, who said he'd never received them when Fred called him maybe twenty minutes later. I almost asked him to email me the pic for this blog, but I didn't feel that was proper, and I can't for the life of me tell you why.

By this time we'd been having a long conversation in my bathroom, with the door open, standing next to my sleeping guest on my window blinds, because Fred correctly surmised that the bat wouldn't care and it was sleeping and it wasn't going anywhere. It was disconcerting to see how still and quiet these things are. I also wasn't happy that Fred said he suspected I had an attic full of the things, and that that's where this one came from, and that he'd climbed down a central air tube, or something. (It is true that I had a TON of mice poop in the attic and basement when I got here five years ago, and I wouldn't be surprised if there in fact had been bats in this belfry.) When I said I hadn't heard anything flying in there in five years, he pointed to our pleasantly sleeping friend. "You wouldn't," he said. This was unnerving, and I've been a little skeeved since. The two guys who visited the next day disagreed with this diagnosis; they said there hadn't been any new activity in my attic in some time. They were in there for over half an hour, shining their lights everywhere, and one was amazed at how much space there was amongst the eaves, and above the doors. This space goes all the way back to the end of the house, where there's no other access panel. Nobody volunteered to go all the way in. But they also spent over half an hour in the basement and in the crawlspace between the basement and the garage. And they did black poo the entire perimeter of the house, which is quite a bit.

Finally, after fiddling and farting around for over an hour and a half because he (understandably) didn't want to deal with the thing, he finally decided that he'd take two of these hand-sized black sticky things from his car--which is all he came armed with, and is apparently all he places; he's the salesman, I'm guessing--and get the bat out with those. He came back in the house with them, and took maybe fifteen minutes to climb the five steps to my bathroom. We conversed more outside the bathroom door; we'd become veritable pals by now. Finally he took each one in hand, holding them like EMTs hold the paddles before they shock the dead guy, and we paused again. He took a deep breath and slowly closed the bathroom door. (His company's insurance dictated that the customer could not be in any danger, so I couldn't go in, which was fine with me. Plus, I put myself in charge of being the one to open the bathroom door and the front door--fast!--if necessary.) Before this, I'd armed him with a plastic eye protector, and he'd found some really thick gloves in his car. I'd let my dog out in the back, in case things went bad and it flew away from us, so that my dog would be the only one without rabies.

So I stood outside the bathroom door, listening intently. There was nothing at all for about five minutes. I was about to open the door, or ask if he was okay, when he said, "Okay," and I opened the door. I purposely didn't look at him, or at his hands, but I intuited that he held the two black things together like a giant S'mores sandwich. He seemed greatly relieved and at peace, and he wasn't bleeding or frothing at the mouth. He walked slowly to the front door with me and we got outside, and he said something about seeing if it was out of its misery. I offered a plastic bag (we have tons for the dog walks) and said he could just throw it in, tie it up and throw it in my large garbage thing. He said it had been great talking with me, and this had been a first for him, and he clearly just needed to go somewhere and have either a drink or a nap. He'd spent about two hours here.

In summary, then, that's why I've been away: passing of close family member and my self-pity; phone and tablet; a bat in my bathroom.

The Writing Life: Writers on How They Think and Work

Photo: The book's cover, from its Goodreads photo.

So it occurred to me, genius that I am, that I've been selling short stories and writing novels (notice the difference there), but I don't know any writers. I mean, at all. Harlan Coben once bought be lunch at an agent's conference in Dedham, Massachusetts, and even sat with me to eat (so of course I've bought all of his books since), but that's it. I don't know any writers at all.

Yes, that's a cry for help. Writers, befriend me!

But I almost digress. The point here is that there are questions writers need answered that non-writers can't help with. Like: Where do ideas come from? What happens when your writing chair and desk don't help you produce anymore? How do you deal with the postpartum depression that hits when you finish a novel you've lived with (in my case) for over 20 years? Should I feel badly that I didn't write today? Or this week? Or this month. (Answer: No. Maybe not. And yes.)

You get the idea. I saw this book in the library, after I realized that I didn't have any writer friends (I do have friends--who think I'm nuts for staring at a computer screen or notebook as often as I do--but I don't have any friends who are writers.) and that I didn't have any answers to these questions, and to many more like them. And that I needed some damn solace. So I checked this book out and read it--sporadically, like I write.

Some selections were minor miracles. Some were breakthroughs. A couple were of no interest and I skimmed those. But, just to share a few things:

--The introductions of the writers and of their works, all written by Marie Arana, are just as interesting as the writers' pieces themselves. Sometimes, more so. To whit: "It may have been when Jane Smiley's husband announced he was running off with her dental hygienist in 1996 that Smiley found herself asking the big questions about life, love and work" (387).

--Jimmy Carter writes about how the Presidency bankrupted him. He had a thriving business going when he got elected. He shelved the business, but four years later found that it had accumulated over $1 million in debt. He had to write his first few books just to make enough money to pay off the debts to keep his house. His real, actual house.

--A remarkable number of very successful authors have been "late-life" writers, as Dominick Dunne put it.

--About 90% of the successful writers in this book also have other careers that actually pay the bills. Over 90% of those are professors.

--There are some excellent quotes and thoughts about what writing is. Everyone chronicled here said that writing is a necessary, blessed vocation--with occasionally large drawbacks.

If you're a writer, or if you're interested in writers or writing, you should read this book. I'm going to find it in a bookstore somewhere shortly.

The Retirement of Adam LaRoche

Photo: from his Wikipedia page. Or, this is Adam LaRoche, running from his responsibilities.

Please bear with me here, even if you don't like baseball, because this really isn't a baseball entry. For those who don't know, Adam LaRoche, part-time first baseman for the Chicago White Sox, and a player due to earn $13 million this year to mostly sit on the bench, suddenly retired and forfeited said $13 million when he was told that he could not bring his 14-year old son to the locker room and to the clubhouse for every single game. This has been his MO for each of his past 11 major league seasons.

--Read Justin Gorman's short article about Adam Laroche's sudden retirement here, at the Sons of Sam Horn page. I couldn't agree more. Brilliant move by Executive Vice President (and former GM) Ken Williams, if it was indeed planned. Had LaRoche stayed, the White Sox would've had to pay $13 million for the honor of having LaRoche ride the bench with his son beside him, and at most LaRoche would've come in as a defensive replacement in the later innings. The South Siders thought so much of LaRoche that they've given him five Spring Training at-bats. In 2009, the Red Sox traded two prospects for him, but had him for all of 6 games and 19 ABs, before they decided they'd rather have Casey Kotchman. And the Nationals were so pleased with his 26 homers and 92 RBIs last year that they bought out his option for $2 million. Williams said, "In what other business can you bring your son to work every single day?" and he's right. Now the Pale Hose have $13 million in their pockets, and two lockers for more deserving bodies.

--Yes, that's right. Two lockers. The son was there so often that he got his own locker. The kid must've been there longer than many minor leaguers, some prospects, and a few veterans.

--And I don't care what Chris Sale says. So Williams went back on his verbal agreement about the kid from last year. If LaRoche hadn't been paid $12 million just to barely hit above the Mendoza Line, maybe this wouldn't be an issue. (Though Williams never should've agreed to that to begin with.)

--Then again, he never should've signed LaRoche to begin with.

--My guess is that Gorman was right: Ken Williams wanted to get rid of this contract, and he knew the button to push. I say, good for him.

--This is all about one word: Entitlement.

--Now, because I can't say it any better than this, I offer you, off her social media, the sage wisdom of Bethany Randa, wife of former major league third baseman Joe Randa:

“I’ve gotten so many messages about what a wonderful thing it is that Adam retired for his son ... and yes, my boys spent time in the clubhouse when it was approved and appropriate and loved every minute of it!!! My concern is and ALWAYS has been that these kids already live a privileged life, where rules don’t always apply, where ridiculous money just pours in, where so many of the things we could afford were free, and where we were offered immediate seating at restaurants and other events ahead of hard working people who were there before us. My boys saw this. It sounds ridiculous to most people, but our job is to raise dependable hard working and respectful men. It’s hard enough in the world they see, but to teach your child that when your boss makes a decision you don’t agree with, you just 'retire'?? In the REAL world, that’s not an option.’’

The Lost Painting

Photo: The Taking of Christ, from its Wikipedia page

Jonathan Harr's The Lost Painting is a surprisingly fascinating book that chronicles how Caravaggio's The Taking of Christ was "found" in Ireland in 1990. It tackles the story from two ends: research student and assistant Francesca Cappelletti, in Italy, and Sergio Benedetti, a restorer who actually found the physical work in a Jesuit church, in Ireland. Roughly two-thirds is spent watching Cappelletti research Caravaggio and his paintings, from the hugeness of Rome to the tiniest archive in a small mountainside town on the other side of Italy. Her investigation for this missing Caravaggio (there are many others still missing) takes her to Dublin, Ireland, where it deadends at an auction house that had gone out of business--and had not left any paperwork. The last third is spent with Benedetti, who nobody seems to like (including Harr, who sounds maybe a little too opinionated about his nonfiction subjects), and his realization while looking up at a huge painting in a small Jesuit building. He also restores the painting--almost ruining it in the process.

This is a good read for many reasons. Like good Bourne or Bond movies, the locales, buildings, peoples and environments all take center stage. Italy, a very old country, is juxtaposed nicely between present-day and the early 1600s. (The differences aren't as many as you think.) The book also goes into Caravaggio's short and violent life; he was a genius known for his fighting, who put his favorite prostitutes in his paintings. He was very popular and well-paid in his lifetime, even though Church leaders, his best customers, rejected the work they'd paid him for. (They didn't approve of famous Bible characters made earthy, nor of Mary, Jesus's mother, being portrayed by the famous, well-paid prostitutes of his day.)

You'll learn things about the Italy of Shakespeare's day (1590s-early 1600s) that you didn't know you wanted to know. You'll learn about how masterpieces are bought, sold and evaluated. You'll learn about how paintings are restored, and about how easy it is to ruin or to lose a masterpiece worth tens of millions of dollars. Most importantly, you'll learn a lot about Caravaggio, his paintings, his life, his Italy. Whether I make it sound like it or not, this is very fascinating stuff that will leave you wanting to know more.

At a time when seven Ty Cobb T206s, with the super-rare Ty Cobb backs, were found together in a crumpled paper bag about to be thrown away, you will believe that a $30 million Caravaggio was found in a small, neglected ancient church in Ireland. And this book makes you think: What other rare treasures are out there, waiting to be found? And why can't I be the one to find it?

Making Money Writing and Secret Windows

Photo: Hardcover art, from the book's Wikipedia site.  (Go there to see the Contents page; one chapter is called "Great Hookers I Have Known," but if you remember your remedial writing days, you'll see right through that.)  I read the paperback with the building on the cover.  This cover is terrible and just a little creepy.  But it's what Wikipedia had.  The building cover is better.

Described as "a companion book to On Writing," this volume reads more as a long interview with King, done over maybe 10 to 12 years, with a couple of never-before-seen stories thrown in. 

It is worth your time.

I put off reading this for awhile because I thought it was, frankly, a cheap attempt to cash-in on his On Writing success.  But that didn't turn out to be the case.  This book is actually much different.  On Writing is, as its title says, at least mostly memoir.  Part writing tutorial, part memoir, is how I speak of it.  But Secret Windows is a book of questions King doesn't answer in On Writing, and as such is, as I said, more of a long interview, over 10-12 years, on a variety of topics--much of them, surprisingly, not about writing, per se.

This book is more for writers, in some ways, than On Writing is.  While that book is mostly memoir and sometimes a writing primer, this one is about the more minute parts of the business.  Did you know that King got an agent to hawk his novels and short stories?  I didn't, because agents don't sell short stories anymore--well, unless you're a Stephen King level writer, that is.  Then they'll be more than happy to sell your underwear or shopping list, just to keep you happy--and their client.  But for you and me, they won't sell our short stories today.  We'd have to do that for ourselves. (I know, because I do.)

Did you know that King sent out a query to agents before he'd finished his manuscript for Carrie?  I didn't, because that's a huge no-no today--and must've been then, too.  Because writers, like everyone else, won't finish something when they say they will, and agents know this.  So they all say--today and, I'm sure, then--that you have to finish the manuscript, perfect it, and then solicit them.  King was more ballsy than that.  He pitched them when he was almost done with his manuscript--for Carrie, I think--and his selling point was the huge list--I'm talking 20 or more here--of short stories he'd sold and been paid well for in just two years.  At $200 per story, times 20 stories--that's $400.  10% of that is $40, so 15% of that is $60.  Many agents in 1974 would take $60 to send out a couple of quick letters to publishers about a client's work.  It would take them about an hour, maybe.  If that.  Probably half an hour.  $60 p/h, max, in 1974 would sound good.  The bottom line is: King essentially was ballsy enough to say to these prospective agents: "Even with my short story sales, I can make money for you."  And then, more importantly, he finished his novel manuscript, just as he said he would.  That's good business, and that turns on agents, too.

So what's to be learned from this?  Be ballsy.  But also be productive, so you have something to be ballsy about.  And then, be good at the business, and finish the manuscript when you say you will.  Lost in all the millions Stephen King makes is that he has always produced, even pre-Carrie, and at a very high level of both quality (ie--it'll sell) and production.  In other words, he's always been bankable, and very good at the business.

You won't learn this kind of thing from On Writing.

You will from Secret Windows.

If you dream of a writing career like I do, you should read it.  And read On Writing, too, of course.

You Know You're A Homeowner When...

Photo: A window in my house.  Notice the wooden shims holding up the second pane of glass so there's no open space between the plastic molding of the storm window and the top of the windowframe.

You know you're a homeowner (of an older house) when...


--you think wooden shims are the bomb.


--and you have hundreds of them throughout the house, in use (like in the pic above) and in storage.


--you've just spent $45 on steel wool, window insulation and caulking.


--you spent an hour walking through the house, studying the perimeters of your windows and doors to see where you need to use that stuff.


--and you've spent an hour or so stuffing steel wool into the gaps between the just-now-rotting wood of your shed and the cement of the shed floor. 


--and you've recently spent an hour or so stuffing steel wool into the gaps between your garage doors and the cement floor of your garage.


--and you've done that more to keep out the damn mice than to keep in the winter heat.


--you start saving money in the beginning of the fall to pay for the winter heating bills.


--you actually pay attention when someone prophecies how warm or cold the upcoming winter will be.


--you feel damn proud of yourself for cleaning out just enough garage space to get your car in there.


--you're happy to hear that two dead mice were found in your shed because last winter they ate your backyard work gloves to shreds and pooped all over the second and third shelves.


--you sing the praises of house spiders because they kill smaller bugs--but they also let you know where the unseen drafts are in your house.  (They'll build their webs there, and you'll see the webs shimmer slightly in the draft.)


--you have a handyman on speed-dial.


--and your landscaper, too.


--and the guy in charge of the water heater and pipes, too.


--and the guy in charge of the heating oil, too.


--you make sure you can pay the mortgage before you think about the next food shopping bill.  (Because you know the old ladies across the street will give you enough bagels, crackers and cheese to hold you over.)


--you realize you're a wood hoarder.  (I have more wood than you'll find in many small forests.)


--you can write a long-ish blog entry about the idiosyncratic things you do when you own a house.

Free Contest to Win A T206--1,400 T206s for Auction at Saco River Auction Co. January 2015

[Free contest to win a free 1909-1911 T206 explained at the bottom of this entry, in the P.P.S.  Contest ends midnight, Sept. 30, 2014.]

Yeah, that's right.  If you're into baseball cards at all, you know the T206s.  I've posted a few pics of the few I have.  This is the set that has the Honus Wagner card, formerly owned by Wayne Gretzky and others, worth literally millions of dollars.

Well, in January 2015, the Saco River Auction House, in Biddeford, Maine, will auction off the Portland Trove of T206s.  One thousand, four hundred of them.  All in good condition, or better.  All of them.  At an average of $50 per card--a very low estimate, considering there are Christy Mathewson cards, Walter Johnsons, Ty Cobbs, etc.--that's still $70,000 worth of T206 baseball cards being sold.  The real fetching price will most likely by ten times that, or more than $700,000.

To show you the awesomeness of this, look at the pics:

Can you believe that?!?  Oh, my goodness.  This makes me want to vomit in jealousy and greed, except I can't stop looking at the pics and wishing I had them.

Of course, since there are only 527 known cards in the set (though variations pop up even now, every so often), there are going to be some duplicates.  My guess is--the piles you see on the tables in the pics are the duplicates of that card.  So if a John Anderson, let's say, (in the second-to-last pic, he's in the second row from the bottom, all the way to the right; looks like he's praying) is on a small stack of three cards, I'm going to bet there are three John Andersons in the collection.  (There's only one John Anderson in the set.)  How did this happen?  Simple: The story is that a gentleman living in NYC in 1909 or so started smoking.  His choice of smoke was the El Principe de Gales--one of the rarest backs in the set!  Anyway, he smoked the stuff and kept the card the pouch came with.  And often, it'll come with a card he already had.  Like getting a duplicate in the wax packs we bought as kids.

So, if you're not doing anything on a particular day TBA in January 2015, and if the weather isn't too bad, I might just take a drive up to 2 Main Street in Biddeford, Maine--about a three hour drive, or so.  Hopefully the auction is on a Friday or Saturday night!  I might save up a little bit by then, and take my list of cards.  If you're into T206s, maybe I'll see you there.  Save your pennies: All of the cards in this trove were graded by SGC, and they're all in good condition or better.

Speaking of card collections, do you have one?  If so, what's your favorite?  Or do you have a favorite specific card, or set?  If you don't collect cards, what do you collect, and which of those is your favorite?

P.S.--Speaking of T206s, I've got a few extras, so I'll be having contests on this blog every now and then and giving one away for free.  Caveat: None of the ones I'm giving away are professionally graded.  They're known as "raw" cards, and they'd list in Poor, Poor / Fair, or Fair condition, but will still be worth at least ten bucks each, even in bad condition.  (I mean, they're free, so waddaya want?)  I'll mail it in a tobacco card toploader.  Stay tuned.

P.P.S.--In fact, what the hell.  I'll have a contest here and now.  Just answer the question(s) above the P.S. in a comment to this blog entry and I'll enter you in a random drawing to win one of my extra T206s from 1909-1911.  Each is worth somewhere between $10 to $25 and can be easily mailed to you.  If you're the winner, I'll ask that you send me an email.  When you do, I'll email you pics of the ones I've got available, and you can pick whatever one you want.  I'll mail it to you free of charge as well.  It can fit in a regular envelope, after all. 

Police Log--Paranoia and Brazen Honesty

There's still two weeks to enter my free contest and win stuff.  To do so, please go to this link, or just scroll down to the previous entry.  Thanks.

Until then, I thought I'd pass this along.  This is a snippet from my local paper's police log, where some very wacky people do some very wacky things.  And in Warwick, R.I., no less.  If this stuff is happening here, ca you imagine the shenangigans happening in L.A., NYC, Chicago, Boston, etc.?

From the Police Log (and from the Warwick Beacon's address):

PARANOIA

Officer [   ] reported he was doing a fixed traffic post around 4:40 p.m. on Feb. 4 when a man approached him and told him it felt like people were following him. [The officer] said he talked with him some more and learned the man thought every car that was driving past was following him and looking at him and told [the officer] that he should know because [the officer] was one of the people investigating him. He said the man claimed he spoke with numerous lawyers and they all confirmed that he was being investigated. [The officer] said he asked him who was investigating him and he said the police, although he did not know where he was or who he was talking to but he knew that Warwick Police were investigating him. He said the man was alternately excited and calm and inquisitive. He said he called for another car and patted the man down. [The officer] said he was nervous about the way the man’s hands would go into his pockets and then into a bowling bag. He said he had no weapons on him but did have what looked like $1,487 worth of gold Teddy Roosevelt $1 coins. [The officer] said he also found a prescription bottle in the bag and the man said, “That is Adderall.” He said the man claimed he had a prescription for the drug but the particular pills [the officer] was holding belonged to his sister. He said he and a sergeant discussed what to do with the man and they decided he needed professional psychiatric help. [The officer] said he confiscated the pills but did not arrest the man because Kent Hospital does not do psyche evaluations on people who have been arrested. He said they took him to Kent, where the staff began to explain how the evaluation would proceed and he became impatient and belligerent and turned and said, “[Expletive] it, you are just going to have to arrest me for the Adderall.” He was taken to headquarters, where he was charged with possession of a controlled substance and held for the bail commissioner. [The officer] said they learned that the man, who earlier said his name was Kenneth [   ], was in fact Giovanni [   ], 25, of [   ] Ave., Pittsburgh, Pa., and that he was staying at a local extended-stay motel. [The officer] said he asked the man why he had so many presidential coins, 54 identical rolls of Roosevelt $1 coins, and [the man] told him he was a collector but there as nothing else in the bag to indicate it was a collection. He said they did run a check on [the man] and discovered numerous arrests and convictions for robbery, burglary, fraud and receiving stolen goods in several states. [The officer] said a Google search turned up an account of $2.4 million worth of presidential coins were stolen from the U.S. Mint in Philadelphia in 2011. [The officer] said there was enough probable cause to believe the coins were stolen and that the Secret Service, who were investigating the heist in Philadelphia, be notified of the arrest.

(Me again.)  Now that's messed up!  How does a heavily-medicated, homeless paranoid schizophrenic man from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, get to Warwick, Rhode Island with 1,487 Teddy Roosevelt $1 coins in a bowling bag?  What?!?  Loved his response, too: He's a collector!  He probably sounded offended while he said it, too.

I couldn't make that up.  Or this:

Det. [   ] reported that a woman who was asked to come into headquarters about some fraudulent checks she’d cashed and quickly learned that it was about a purse that was stolen from a customer at Sullivan’s Publick House on Dec. 13 of last year. [The detective] reported that they had surveillance of the woman taking the purse and leaving by the back door but had more evidence that she used the credit cards in the purse at several places in Warwick and other places, but, under the circumstances, he welcomed her candor in regard to the fraudulent checks. She claimed she was cashing five checks worth $1,270 over the past week for a friend of hers and she only got $20 for one check but got a cup of coffee or a pack of cigarettes for the others. She said her friend was stealing the checks from an 80-year-old Warwick man who trusted her.

[A different detective] reported that he was there when [the first detective] was asking “the suspect in a stolen purse caper from Sullivan’s” and took the opportunity to ask her about charges made on her sister’s credit cards last November and about her sister’s laptop that went missing in December and charges on her debit card in March. He said she admitted using the debit card but denied stealing the computer. By the time the interview was over, [   ], 44, of [   ] Ave., Warwick, was charged with five counts of felony fraudulent checks, three counts of fraudulent computer access and larceny for the stolen purse that reportedly contained $140 in cash along with the credit cards.

(Me, again.)  It's hard to tell with writing from reports, but I do believe there was a little tongue-in-cheek with the underlined sentence above, as it seems a bit too dry and straightforward to me.  "He welcomed her candor," indeed.  Sounds like the first detective waved the second one over not because he feared for his safety, but because, "Hey, Harry, come here, you gotta hear this."

And this is all in one day, in one police blotter.

So let me know what you think, and maybe I'll offer up more of this stuff.

Dark Visions, Vol. 1--Memorably Good (and Short) Horror Stories

Photo: book's cover, from beforeitsnews.com


If you like horror, and you like short stories, go get a copy of Dark Visions 1: A Collection of Modern Horror, an anthology of original short stories, edited by Anthony Rivera and Sharon Lawson.  It's available on Amazon, here.  A few notes about a couple of the stories to show you why it's so good:

--Mister Pockets, by NYT bestselling author and multiple Stoker Award-winner Jonathan Maberry.

Very effective short story about a "twelve-year old fat kid" who is barely beginning to understand his place in the world, and where others think his place is.  His place at present is in a town that's just recovering from The Trouble.  Nobody talks about it, but it happened, and it may be happening again.  What's The Trouble?  Well, suffice it to say that the kid goes one-on-one with a very pretty and very alluring vampire-like thing, and he would've been done for had he not earlier given a candy bar to a strange-smiling homeless man, nicknamed [see title].  (Great title, by the way.)

Maberry may be one of the more successful horror writers I've not heard of before.  The short author bio before the story lists an unbelievable amount of writing this man has been paid for since 1978.  If that sounds a little like envy on my part, it's because it is.

The Weight of Paradise by Jeff Hemenway

Creepy story about scientist-wannabes who find a cure for cancer.  By doing so, the cured become immortal.  But, as it turns out, forever comes for a price, and it's painful.  If you're familiar with the genre, you've seen this sort of morality tale before, but not as well-done as this.  It's a horror tale with the wistful sadness of some of Jack Ketchum's short stories.  That's a good thing.

Incidentally, it's always cool to see that a professional  author has been published in the same magazines as you.  In this case, Hemenway's been in Big Pulp, the same good folks who recently purchased the rights to my story, "The Zombie's Lament."  Another author, later in the collection, will soon be published in Space and Time, as I was.  Cool deal, man.  Good for the old ego.

The Troll by Jonathan Balog

A 20-page story that reads like 10, which is one of the things I look for in a slightly-longer short story.  (I like my short stories short--10 pages or fewer--and I tend to write very short ones, too.)  Anyway, the troll of the story looks more like a metrosexual pimp, but what he tells the 12-year old narrator to do is a bit more.  Though he does pimp the kid out, if I may be so bold.  The troll is quite a bit like Pennywise the Clown, except when the story's done, the reader may wonder who the real troll was--the troll, or the narrator?  A good study of adolescent evil.  Very well-written, and very quickly read.

Delicate Spaces by Brian Fatah Steele

Perhaps my favorite so far in this collection.  A group of paranormal researchers answer a dare for free rooming at a hotel that wants to drum up business, hoping they'll stay longer.  Very realistic dialogue and action make the reader feel like he's observing the middle of something, just being dropped right in there.  What they see before they're about to leave will catch the reader breathless.  Very professionally written and described; you'll feel this frightening incident could actually happen.

There are 13 stories in all, and there's a lot to like here.  So, suffice it to say, if you like your horror in small pieces, you'll like this book as much as I did.  Again, it's available here at Amazon.  The Kindle is only $3.99, and a new paperback starts at $11.94.  It's worth it.