Monday Moves

9–0. Special thanks to the three SCOTUS liberals.

How appropriate that Nikki Haley’s first primary victory came in the swamp, DC. She is one of them.

The Hunter Follies continue — headline from nypost.com: “Hunter Biden’s Chinese legal ‘client’ claims first son earned $1 million for no work — and now threatens to sue if not paid back.” LOL! I hate to defend the creep, but what did the guy who gave a crackhead money expect?

From NYP: “Worry for ‘NYsea’: Sea levels around NYC could surge up to 13 inches in 2030s due to climate change: state study.” Build sea walls! Galveston did after the hurricane of 1900 killed as estimated 8000, most of the victims drowning. It’s not rocket science.

From NYP: “Just 2 cans of soda per week is too much — even if you exercise: study.” I’m doomed. I drink the equivalent of seven.

RIP MLB catcher Ed Ott, 72. cause of death indisclosed. Born in Pennsylvania, his high school did not have a baseball team, so he concentrated on football and wrestling. In the summer he played American Legion ball as a 3B. Pittsburgh selected him in the 23rd round of the 1970 draft. He had a cup of coffee in ’74. He was moved to catcher and spent his entire ’75 minor league season learning the position. He made the Pirates’ roster in ’76, and in ’77 began platooning, the lefthanded batter. He was a member of the ’79 World Series champions, batting .333 in the fall classic, knocking in three runs vs. the O’s. He was traded to California in ’81 and his luck went south, as he suffered a torn rotator cuff. He was switched to 1B, but it did not pan out and he retired at 32 in ’84. In eight seasons he batted .259 and had 33 homers. He served as a coach for the Astros and Tigers, and managed several minor league teams. He was a father of one. Well done, Sir. Photo from Google Images:

Get to work sci-fi writers. From NYP: “Watch out for bizarre animal behavior during next month’s total eclipse, scientists urge.” Dogs meowing, cats woofing, donkeys neighing, horses braying.

Another mild day, perfect for curbside business. Most of the trade at today’s session of the floating book involved costume jewelry. My thanks to the ladies who bought; and to the one who, as usual, overcompensated me for Russian fare, this time two hardcovers; and to the other who purchased one; and to Georgi, who selected a large paperback on Diabetes; and to Alice, who took home the massive Tales of Terror: 58 Short Stories Chosen by the Master of Suspense — Alfred Hitchcock. Why a fool such as I is so blessed is beyond me.

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