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"You like cats, right? Meet Mr. Montecore..."

Nope. Nuh-uh. I'm not doing it … I'm no longah going to discuss a Manny trade until or if something actually happens. I want no paht of guesses and rumahs.


OK. Settle down Beavis. So what's your topic, The Rose Bowl? The Rescue Cat? …


Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I don't believe it!


You know, I was ready to believe until I heard how the guy says he'd been "training" a cat to dial the phone. Who the fuck trains a cat? I mean, c'mon.


That's just it: You can't fucking train a cat can you? I mean when I go to Logan, I don't see Max the Bomb Sniffing Cat now do I?


Well, to be fair, that's more of smelling thing than a training thing, right?


OK. Whatev. Then where in fuck are all the "seeing eye cats" leading the blind, huh? Where's the cat obstacle course competitions on ESPN?


Absolutely. And look at what happened to that poor weirdo Roy? There's your trained cat for ya.


But don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-cat, not one of those cat hatahs or ailurophobes anything.


As a single guy, you can't be openly anti-cat in this town anyway, I mean, what, like 75% of single chicks have a cat or three.


No kidding, and every one of them forces you to pass the Pussy Test. If the cat likes you, you're wicked set …


And if the cat doesn't like you, you're not totally on the outs, but you've got to expend double the enahgy trying to convince the chick that her cat's aversion to you isn't some sort of barometah signalling some fatal character flaw in you.


Which is why the savvy Boston M4W doesn't show up at a chick's apartment without two things: catnip and a condom.


Dude, that is brilliant. For reals!


Yeah, that's why I'm the Theo Epstein of the hook up scene — I don't have the deep pockets to bring the bling, so I have to play smahtah than the competition to win.



Just don't get catnip ON the condom. Those cat scratches are wicked painful.

(BTW, I thoroughly endorse your "Manny-trade-talk-free-zone." Although, did I just violate it?)

It doesn't say whether the cat actaully dialed 9-1-1 or hit the emergency speed dial button. One feat would be much more impressive than the other.

And if the wheelchair guy had the foresight to 'train' his cat to use the phone, I guessing he hedged his bet by soaking the speed dial button in a can of tuna or something.

Lets see kitty get help when Timmy falls down the well again.

The Soxaholix have obviously never been to Key West.

That's funny! The Flying Housecats. And the dude has the same "weirdo" look as the pre-mauled Roy.

I've been to Key West several times, but never remember seeing this guy. Of course, personally, I trend toward the anti-cat, so it wouldn't be the sort of thing I'd seek out.

It was bad enough having to deal with all the cats that live at the Hemingway house. (Yet another reason why I don't much appreciate the ol' rum swilling fairy, el Papa.)

I trained my cat to call Domino's.

1) My experience has been that humor is the best way to achieve success with the fairer sex. Make her laugh and you have to work to screw it up.

2) I saw the cat guy interviewed: it would not surprise me if he took 2-3 hours x 4 days a week to train the feline. As Charles Bronson said at the end of "Hard Times": "Take care of my cat...."

3) Prediction: Jay Cutler, after wowing NFL scouts at the combine, is drafted before Alice Leinart in the 1st round.

I never really liked cats as a kid, but started to become more of a cat guy after playing with a friend's two felines a few years ago. The ironic thing is that my new fiance is allergic to cats, so I'll never own one.

Texas phoning in here. Last night's game (and I'm an alum, btw) induced many of the same emotions as the legendary '04 post season. It was awesome, heart-pounding redemption; amazing feats of strength by a player who loves the game. Hearing the entire stadium booming the Eyes of Texas choked me up. And still, it couldn't compete with the emotion of '04. Go sox.

Cats are pure evil as far as I'm concerned. If I meet a girl who's a "cat person", she's instantly put into the Last Resort section of my mental little black book.

Yeah, I saw Dominique and his Flying Cats a long time ago there. It was actually a pretty entertaining show as the cats were as unruly and aloof as you'd normally think a cat is, but he managed to get them to sit on little podiums and jump through flaming hoops and stuff. A cute show for the family. He'd do his show at sunset on that pier where everyone hangs out, like the "Love 22" guy. I think it's like every other night or something. You know, the next time you're there and are totally bored at that time of night.

But with the death of Sharky, it's just another cat and pony show.

I'm a cat person. I know for a fact that you can train a cat. Sometimes you can train it too well...my Siamese cat plays fetch with a knit ball stuffed with cotton. The problem is that he's had the same ball for over 8 years and it's showing a bit of wear and tear (ok, a lot of wear and tear). My mom has resewn the ball multiple times and now it's just a ragged piece of fluff...but he refuses to play fetch with any other similar ball we've ever bought.

He does a lot of other things that we've trained him to do. I guess if we really wanted to put his mind to it, we could have gotten him to dial a phone on command. I'd hate to see the bills to Thailand when he calls his relatives though.

BTW, is it just me or is there something freakish about the way Vince Young delivers the pass? It's like he's saying "everyone knows where this pass is going, so I'm not even going to heave it very hard...but it'll still hit the intended receiver....watch this". He seems to scramble the same way...nothing very intense about his motion but it ends up getting him 200 rushing yds in a bowl game...wierdness.

He'll get manhandled in the NFL.

So Jim, now I know why Domino's is always bringing you extra anchovies.

Brilliant strip, HB, everybody at my office was talking about the cat story yesterday and I heard a couple people on commuter train today talking about it too. You really have your finger on the pulse.

Weird thing about that Gammons chat. The comment he makes right before that Tejada opneing day shortstop prediction is that the trade will probably fall apart. So I guess he's just hedging his bets there.

Maybe Manny could train his cat to let him know when his wife's on her way home.

I don't believe Hemingway was a sailor on Brokeback Sea, Mr Brachen. But I can't be bothered to defend anyone's heterosexual virtue.

I suspect the main reason you don't appreciate Hemingway is the reference to Joe DiMaggio in "The Old Man and The Sea" and the line, "Have faith in the Yankees."

For the one or two readers here who don't hate the Yanks, Yogi Berra was once introduced to Hemingway, and inquired about the writer, “What paper does he work for?”

By the way, all those cats at the Hemingway house, the ones with the oversized feet, and extra toes: they're also known as Boston Cats, as they apparently came over aboard the colonial ships.
Impress your cat-loving date with that bit of trivia, Soxaholix, before you introduce her to your sixth toe. Heh.

Wow. Slow news day. As is the case, let me bring some laughter into your lives. For those of you who haven't heard of Dane Cook, he is a Boson-raised comedian who makes me want to die of laughter. Here is a clip of him impersonating Ton Cruise on the Jimmy Kimmel Show.



But with the death of Sharky, it's just another cat and pony show.

Superb line!

And I like this one, too:

Maybe Manny could train his cat to let him know when his wife's on her way home.

Hemingway didn't climb the Brokeback Mtn AFAIK, true, but his mom made him dress like a girl until age 11 and that led to some, er, issues later in life.

Truthfully, I think it's that sort of false (or what I perceive as false) machisimo that permeates all of his writing that I don't like.

On the other hand, I love Bukowski, who does a lot of that as well, so maybe it's something else altogether.

Cats are little sociopaths when it comes to training. You can get them to do things a certain way, but God forbid you want them to do things on command.

My fish, on the other hand, is better than a dog. He's a betta and I have him in a little fishbowl on the table in my bedroom. The thing does laps at 200 rpm whenever he is hungry. When it's time to change the water, I have him trained to swim into a ladle on command. Just as smart as a Labrador, only cheaper.


Maybe if the old guy wasn't fantasizing about DiMaggio all the time he could have caught himself a fish. Actually, Ted Williams would have been a better role model for him. He could have caught a ton of fish, and bombed and strafed any sharks that tried to steal his catch.

Nothing phony about that machismo.

The Spendid Splinter/Cryonic Cranium was a superior fly fisherman to DiMaggio -- and as your buddy Dan Shaughnessy wrote on 7/22/02:

'Media sage Clark Booth perhaps put it best when he described Ted Williams as ''a Hemingway man.'' That's Ted. A man's man: crude, talented, strong, loud, outdoors, and forever full of appetite and attitude.'

But can somebody explain why my google search revealed that "Ted Williams: My Life In Pictures" is on a list of suggested gifts for gay Red Sox fans, and "Fever Pitch" is not?

He swirled his gin. It was clean and good and warmed his gullet. Back to the computer screen. What present to buy? Picture book on Ted Williams, war hero with a wooden bat? Moving picture on disc featuring Jimmy Fallon, annoying actor with plastic face? Nick sipped more gin, turned to the newspapers. A cat had dialed the phone. Saved his owner from certain death.
Nick clicked to travelocity. There was a deal on flights to Spain. The flight would be clean and good, the whiskey on the plane would take his mind off the Ramirez affair. He could meet the bulls in Pamplona...

H.B., did you see this sad news:


Oh, that Hemingwayesque bit was very well done. This is one of those where I'm really, really happy to have comments turned on and have people like yourselves writing what you do.

Yes, had heard about AMC leaving Wonkette and it going all male yet keeping the "feminized name." Seems strange, but it makes sense to keep the branding that Gawker has established with Wonkette.

But I just can't say the name Wonkette without thinking of AMC.

BTW, anyone visit Surviving Grady today? It's gotten really ugly over there. There's gonna be a virtual race riot any minute now.

Yes, had heard about AMC leaving Wonkette and it going all male yet keeping the "feminized name." Seems strange, but it makes sense to keep the branding that Gawker has established with Wonkette.

Not that I know thing one about blog etiquette and Generally Accepted Blogging Procedures, but it seems a little like selling out to keep blogging under a pseudonym when the original namesake stops doing it. I understand the value of the name and all, and frankly I never really got the appeal of Wonkette, maybe it's the dinky graphics or maybe its the fact that most of my classmates in 11th grad civics were saying more insightful things. But it seems like blogging under someone else's name is like, oh I dunno, Eli Roth directing a film under the pseudonym "Martin Scorsese". Which is fine, but it lends credence to the notion that blogging is ossifying into mainstream media, and that kinda ruins the "new and exciting media" bona fides in my mind. You know, makes it look like you're a just another regular old journalist writing for a new network. The names may change but the game remains the same.

o-ver-rat-ed (clap clap clap-clap-clap)
She's a Maureen Dowd/Anna Quindlen in training, for when the NYT tries to finally get hip as the media world crashes around it in a few years.

Hemingway's greatness is, IMO, his ability to portray a stoic (some call it existential, I call it stoic) acceptance of an inevitable, crushing rendezvous with bad fortune. Best evidence is in short stories: 50 Grand, undefeated, macomber, etc.

BTW, smoke the Fuente "work of art" in the venerable Hemigway line. You'll say: Opus what? cuban who?

I hear what you're saying re Wonkette, son of dewey, but bear in mind that Ann Marie Cox (AMC) didn't start Wonkette on her own independently. The site was always a Nick Denton/Gawker enterprise from the beginning.

Now I'm not sure if Denton got the idea then went to work to look for a "wonkette" to blog and found AMC. Or if AMC pitched the idea to Denton and he went with it, or somewhere between the two.

But it is different than, say, if I all of a sudden handed this blog over to somebody else to do.

I suspect this swapping bloggers in/out in the Gawker blogs will be a regular thing.

Jason O, Love the Fuente Hemingway "signatures", and "short stories". Haven't treated myself to the "work of art" yet. Better than opus? I must, I will.

Then Denton got screwed, b/c AMC rode Wonkette to untold fame while he's still a footnote.
AMC was sort of like the Daily Show...using a prop (in her case, graphic/gratuitous sexuality) to get noticed, but when called to the mat on a weak argument, she retreated behind the "I'm not a serious pundit defense."

I agree that the hemingway line kicks ass in general, and it's an example of why Carlos Fuente is the king: The cigars have been around forever and are consistently good amid all the johnnie-come-latelies of the last 10 years.

Trust me, the Work of Art is a cut above the rest of the strong hemingway lineup.

dude, you have no idea how much cat I see.


Consider the Manny News Embargo broken.

You're welcome.

AMC was a friend of the Soxaholix and I trust I can speak for the comments page (if not h.b.) in wishing her a successful book career.

For Edification, from April 2004, Here's "Letter to Wonkette":


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