The original Mr. Potato Head cost 98 cents. It was plastic pushpin limbs in a box. The body was not included. A real potato or other vegetable was used until the government regulated the situation due to health concern over rotting veggys. Kids tend to be cannibals without supervision.
Brown plastic replica potatos were then included in the package and kids were free to keep putting ears where lips were supposed to be. And maybe a kid contemplated creation and evolution wondering how nothing could so suddenly become a beautiful face. There must be a deliberate force behind all of this. “Of course there is,” says the kid “and It’s me. I’m God.”
Painting portraits and creating fictional characters heals Mr. Potato Head withdrawal and serves as a lasting tribute to whatever keeps creating the universe and the bubble yum delicious face of Natalie Portman and her kookie personality in Garden State.
Critics insist her character-Sam does not represent the real world reality of being a woman and that men always day dream about kooky girls like Sam. Well, it is just a movie and Sam is only a teenager, but she is a pathological liar, suffers from epilepsy and has no father. And she speaks in wonderful gushes and well, she’s beautiful to me.
And anyway, I thought men day dreamed more about boobs and blondes and in the process unintentionally scared women into corners and competition. This is great news. If Sam is what the world wants; freak flags will soon fly higher.
I knew a girl. She was ridiculed for being kooky. She didn’t talk much. She painted a blue streak through her hair. l had a crush on her, but worried friends might call me cheesy, so my crush lived forever in secret and maybe that’s a good thing because she’s still the most sensual and interesting girl I never really knew.
Nowadays, every hallway in the hospital where I work has paintings hanging on walls. Therapy for the patients. I sneak a peak during my deliveries. I guess my knees are tired, but something’s been happening. A vague feeling bubbles up in me as I look longer at some of the paintings and it feels like my crush on that girl all over again. It’s the first time in my life I’ve been pulled in by paintings.
I found Tryout on line with its dark colors and batter at the lonely plate of shadows. He’s naked. There’s an umpire standing stiff in the second base distance. There is no pitcher, no crowd; just a fold up chair beside the batter. The climate is severe and filled with judgment, but lots of courage and to think the painter intended it this way; deliberate and conscious like a kid creator arranging ears and noses on a Mr. Potato Head.
Deliberate like the Yankees, Dodgers, and Angels creating teams with money. Deliberate like the A’s recreating rosters with intelligence and the king of deliberate-the Minnesota Twins insisting the entire organization be filled with control pitchers and batters who get on base.
The Twins have been this way since Tom Kelly became manager in 1986. He won two world series and handed the baton to Ron Gardenhire in 2002 who’s been there ever since. Two managers in 28 years. That’s rare. That’s Twins. Great organization.
Samuel Deduno was on the mound at Miller Park Tuesday Night to face the Brewers and he stands tall at 6’3″ and that’s nothing new. But he’s wild and that’s new because the Twins avoid wild pitchers like the plague. Not even Deduno knows where the pitch will end up and he doesn’t throw a knuckleball. The deliberate nature of pitching seems removed. It’s a wild river in Deduno-ville and no one knows where it will flow.
Deduno walked four in five innings but induced 3 double plays to escape jams. Both Deduno and Brewer’s starter Yovani Gallardo labored. Gallardo’s pitch count reached 80 after the fourth inning. Brewer’s announcer Brain Anderson called the game a “funirian” pace. Is that even a word? Well, last night, it became one.
Home runs by Josh Willingham and Brian Dozier accounted for five Twins runs.. Final score; Twins 6; Brewers 4.
The Brewers are 35-24.