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The Netherlands beat the Dominican Republic today in the World Baseball Classic.

Let that sink in for a moment.

This seemed blog-worthy on a couple of levels.

First, the fact that the Netherlands HAS a team in the World Baseball Classic strikes the Solipsist as noteworthy.  Isn't the Netherlands that country that's actually below sea level?  Must make for some interesting rain delays.

What's the team name?  The Oranges?  The Dikes?  The Wood Sox?

But the fact that they beat the Dominican Republic?!?  This raises things from the ridiculous to the sublime.

For those not "in the know" (which YNSHC realizes includes most of his faithful readers), the D.R. was (and probably still is) a favorite to win the whole tournament.  The team's roster includes such perennial Major League Baseball All-Stars as David ("Big Papi") Ortiz and Miguel Tejada.  The New York Mets' shortstop Jose Reyes, who has led the Majors in stolen bases and won a gold glove, is the DH for the team because he's arguably the D. R.'s SECOND BEST shortstop, behind Hanley Ramirez of the Florida Marlins.  About the most notable name the Netherlands has is Sidney Ponson, who started today's game and has pitched for the Yankees, among other teams.  But to put this in perspective: Ponson isn't even currently signed with a Major League team.

To call this an upset is an understatement.  When the Giants beat the Patriots in last year's Super Bowl, THAT was an upset.  In fact, if the Giants had beaten the Dominican Republic in today's game, it probably would have been less shocking than what actually transpired.

Some will point to the fact that all three Netherlanders' runs were unearned as a sort of asterisk on the results.  Of course, all that really means is that not only was the D.R. outhit and outpitched, it was also out-fielded.

No, any way you look at it, this was a true shocker.  And it just goes to show why the Solipsist enjoys sports.  They ain't over 'til they're over, and you never know when the fat lady will be singing the praises of a tulip-toting underdog.

The Great Disappointment

No, not the story of the Solipsist's life.

The other day, the Solipsist came across a reference to "The Great Disappointment."  Intrigued, he tracked down some general information on this historic event.  Here, as part of his ongoing effort to enrich the lives of the Slopps (a suggested compromise to FOS's preferred "Slops"), YNSHC presents his findings.

"The Great Disappointment" occurred on October 22, 1844, one of many days on which the world did not end.  Who was disappointed?  The Millerites, a Baptist cult that subscribed to the teachings of William Miller.  Based on his readings of ancient Hebrew texts, Miller was convinced the world would end in 1844 and, after various calculations and recalculations, he and his followers settled upon the 22nd of October as the blessed day.

Miller's followers prepared to be raptured.  When, on or about October 23, 1844, they realized they had not been, their responses ranged from the predictable (resignation, disappointment, heavy drinking?) to the rationalizing ("Maybe we just got the date wrong?  These are ANCIENT texts after all.  Maybe someone just forgot to carry the '1'"?) to the. . . . shall we say, creative: They began acting like children in a literal reading of Jesus' admonition, "Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it" (Mark 10:15).  Despite their best efforts, though, they never managed to realize their hopes, and eventually most of them drifted back to their previous congregations.  "Hi, guys.  Yeah, still here.  What can I say?"

The Solipsist is intrigued, though, by the label that has stuck to this day: The Great Disappointment.  On one level, it's totally understandable: If you wake up one morning expecting to go to sleep on a fluffy cloud surrounded by sheep and angels and Jesus, then trundling back to your little house, which didn't even have cable TV or indoor plumbing, would surely be a bit of a bummer.  At the same time, though, it must be noted that THE WORLD DIDN'T END!  Isn't this, on some level, a good thing?  Are people's lives really so dreary that they look forward to the end, not only of their OWN lives, but of everyone else's too?  Isn't this the kind of mentality that leads to suicide bombing?  The Solipsist hopes that somebody was kind enough to reassure these people, all of whom were presumably good Christians, that they would get to enter the kingdom of heaven soon enough.  Nobody lives forever.

Not being in the business of consoling religious fanatics, though, the Solipsist would like to offer this sobering thought to the Greatly Disappointed:  Maybe they shouldn't be disappointed at all.  Maybe their calculations were spot on.  Maybe whatever was supposed to happen actually happened.

Maybe they've actually entered the kingdom of heaven.

Maybe this is as good as it gets.

Slow News Day (A Brief Post)

Today, the front page--THE FRONT PAGE!--of the Times included an article about President Obama. Apparently--brace yourself--he's going gray.

This article, and its placement, lead one to the following conclusions:

A) It seems that the presidency is a stressful job. Who knew?

B) Barack Obama may or may not be dying his hair.

C) It's an incredibly slow news day.

This last point is more a hope than an established fact. Because if this is what now passes for front page news, the Old Gray Lady is engaged in a descent to New York Post-like depths.

Be afraid.

I See Dead People . . . .Ka-Ching!

The Solipsist has bad news for dead people: You still have to pay your bills.

According to today's New York Times, "Dead people are the newest frontier in debt collecting, and one of the healthiest parts of the industry."  Call centers are staffed by an especially brazen class of teleghouls, phoning nexts-of-kin and asking them to pony up for their deceased beloved's outstanding bills.

Coffin?  $2,400.00

Funeral service? $1,000.00

Dinnertime call about Aunt Sally's MasterCard?  Priceless.

Mind you, in most cases, the decedent's relatives have no legal obligation to pay these debts, at least not out of their own pocket (creditors can, however, go after an estate).  Still, a surprising number of people decide to go ahead and settle the debt.

And the Solipsist says, "It's about time!"

For far too long, people have been shirking their obligations because of "being dead."  Just last week, YNSHC went to his local tannery to drop off some work.  After standing at the counter for what must have been fifteen minutes, YNSHC realized that the lights were out and nobody was standing behind the counter (which, when he thought about it, explained why he had to break the glass in the door to get into the shop).  He went back out and noticed the sign in the window that explained the shop would be closed until further notice, due to the "death" of the proprietor!

So Irv's dead!  Great!  Now, what's yours' truly supposed to do with this batch of capybara pelts?!?

The Solipsist is sick and tired of people's cavalier attitudes towards their obligations.  Many's the time YNSHC has been "dead" (albeit metaphorically) yet manages to drag himself to the keyboard because HE HAS AN OBLIGATION.  Right now, in fact, this blogger would like nothing more than to drag himself to the nearest coffin--which is surprisingly near--and fold his hands over his chest, and sleep the sleep of the overopinionated.   But he doesn't.  And other more-literally dead people need to suck it up, and meet their obligations like men!  (Or, y'know, like women, as the case may be.)  After all, what excuse do they have NOT to?  It's not like they're busy doing anything else.  They're dead!

Now, if only we could find a way to get Citigroup to pay back its debts.

A Radical Holiday

"Hi, I'm Troy McClure.  You may remember me from such educational filmstrips as. . . . "Two Minus Three Equals Negative Fun!"

--The Simpsons

This morning's newscrawl announced that math fans (apparently there are some) would be celebrating "Square Root Day" today.  This made the Solipsist sit up, put down his coffee cup, and rub his sleep-crusty eyes.  Did he just see what he thought he saw?  Could there really be such a thing as "Square Root Day"?  And if so, why doesn't he have that day off?  At any rate, this clearly called for some investigative digging.  Sloppists (or, "Slops" as FOS has suggested) would want the facts, and the facts will be provided.

As you may have figured out, Square Root Day occurs when the year (the last two digits, anyway) is the square of the month and date, e.g., 3/3/09 (3 x 3 = 9).  Square Root Days occur a handful of times every century:  The last one was 2/2/04, the next will be 4/4/16, and so on through the 21st century.

The holiday is the--"invention" seems like the wrong word--let's say "Brainchild" of one Ron Gordon, a math instructor from Redwood City, California.  His hands heavily weighed down by time, Gordon first drew inspiration for the holiday on September 9, 1981 (i.e., 9/9/81).  Since then, he has taken to celebrating Square Root Day with his students, teaching them how to tie square knots, drinking root beer out of square glasses, possibly cutting carrots (i.e., root vegetables) into square shapes, etc.  (YNSHC swears he's not making this up.)

Math-related holidays are all around.  We just had 2/3/08 (2 to the third power being 8).  If, however, you missed out on celebrating that and Square Root Day, mark your calendars for a week from Saturday, when you and your inner math nerd can celebrate "Pi Day" (3/14).  One imagines you celebrate by eating a lot of pie.  Or is that too "on the nose"?

Magnetic Resonance Imagination

According to the Times, when it comes to MRI's, the best medical care money can buy is no better than the worst. 

Well, it's probably better than the WORST care, which would presumably involve leeches and sharpened sticks, but it's no better than the most mediocre care.

It seems that whether a medical scan is performed by a trained technician in a state-of-the-art facility or by a college dropout named Gummo in his father's garage, insurance companies pay the same.

What struck the Solipsist about this news item was the fact that there are no real standards for MRI technicians.  Certification programs exist, but, as of now anyway, certification is not required for a scanning facility to operate.  This leads to a hit-or-miss testing regime, where some patients may receive excellent care and others may be left to have unnecessary surgery based on inconclusive scans.

The idea of "inconclusive scans" is particularly troubling.  YNSHC is no doctor, but one would think the ability to look at what is essentially an x-ray and say, "Yes, there's a problem with that muscle" or "No, you're fine, get back to work you slacker" would not require advanced training--or, that if it DID require advanced (say, medical) training, a doctor would be able to do it.  But apparently, MRI scans are little better than anatomical Rorschach tests.  Your bones and muscles are biological inkblots, open to interpretation, any of which are more or less valid (at least from an insurer's perspective).

So maybe that's the kind of training aspiring MRI techs need:  "OK, Chad, now, if you think the MRI looks like a bunny riding a turtle, then the patient has a torn meniscus.  If it looks like a butterfly, it's a simple strain.  And you're sexually frustrated."

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Yahoo! News reports that Rachael Ray does not regret a "racy" photo shoot she did for FHM Magazine back in 2003.

No word yet on whether FHM has any regrets.

The Tweets of Infamy

The New York Knicks' popular guard (and recent winner of the NBA's Slam-Dunk Competition) Nate Robinson has fallen victim to what must be the latest trend in cyber-crime, Twitter-Identity Theft.  It seems that someone calling himself "NateGreat" has been passing himself off as the diminutive baller, sending his subscribers "updates" on "Robinson's" activities.  Robinson seemed more amused than offended by this information, but the Solipsist was worried: If a cyberprankster took the time and energy to impersonate a relative nobody like Nate Robinson (he plays for the Knicks, after all), surely it was likely that someone--or a whole cadre of someones--was twittering in the Solipsist's name!

Sure enough, some virtual digging unearthed "NavlGazrBob."  Yes, Slopists--

(Digression: We're going to change the spelling to "Sloppists," so that people don't mispronounce it as "Slope-ists," which sounds like a group for geometry enthusiasts.  What's that?  WHAT people?  Shut up.  End of digression.)

--Yes, Sloppists, that's right: NavlGazrBob is NOT the Solipsist!  YNSHC is sorry to have to shatter your illusions, but the Solipsist does not tweet!  And, really, you probably should have figured out that NavlGazrBob was an impostor.  Admittedly, the signs were subtle, but a close reading of the tweets should have raised your suspicions.  Here, for example, a transcript from January 23:

1/23/09, 4:32 am: Just got up.  Cold 2day.  Stepped in mud on way 2 outhouse.  Ruined good shoe.

1/23/09, 5:57 am: Jolene burned the grits again.  Ate em anyway.

1/23/09, 8:58 am: At work.  Hog rendering plant smells usual.

1/23/09, 9:47 am: Mitch told funny Jew joke.  Ha ha.

1/23/09, 10:02 am: Bathroom break.  U don't buy coffee.  U rent it.

1/23/09, 10:04 am: This is taking longer than I spected.

1/23/09, 10:09 am: Texted Mitch.  He'll cover 4 me.  Whew.

1/23/09, 10:21 am:  Done!  Finally!

1/23/09, 12:03 pm: Lunch.  Chicken spread again!  :-(  Will talk 2 Jolene.

1/23/09, 12:48 pm: Finished lunch.  Traded sandwiches w Zack.  Turkey spread!  Yum.

1/23/09, 3:13 pm: Mitch told funny [redacted] joke about Obama.  Ha ha.

 1/23/09, 5:28 pm: Trouble @ the snout pit.  Note: Snouts go in the LEFT pipe.

1/23/09, 7:30 pm: Home again.  Wheel of Fortune.

1/23/09, 7:56 pm: Did well on WofF.  Guessed 2 puzzles.

1//23/09, 11:42 pm: Leno was funny.

Really, folks, the signs were everywhere.

So, for your future reference, only accept solipsizing from this licensed source.  This is the Solipsist, signing off.

Or is it?

Tweet.