Monthly Archives: September 2013

Abduzeedo gives an excellent collection of Blade Runner artworks. 

[Featured image via Fan Pop]

Open Night. Have at it.

[Photo Credit: Graziano Panfili via MPD]

Dig Heather Smith’s 2012 history of bagels and lox.

[Photo Credit: Michael Shindler]

Today’s gem is a little a little difficult to date, so I’ll be lenient with the exact date unless you can figure out the hint.
Hint: This picture was taken two years after one of the buildings in this picture was built.

A root beer to you if you get the location depicted and the date. Bonus if you know the nickname of a certain feature within this picture. Feel free to discuss as much as you want on the thread about it without directly revealing the answer (which will be published at or after 6pm tonight). Hey, I’m still trying to figure out what works and what doesn’t, so bear with me >;)

Answers, challenge submissions and suggestions can be sent to cixposse@gmail.com. As usual, do not use the photo credit link in researching your answer. Have fun!

{photo credit: Shorpy Historical Photo Archive}

“Knife and Fruit in Front of the Window (detail)” by Diego Rivera (1917)

From Twitter:

oh, okay. Yankees announce that CC Sabathia suffered a grade 2 hamstring strain in last start, and is done for the season.

[Photo Credit: Jim McIsaac/Getty Images]

Mental Floss takes us Reagan babies back with the history of the Trapper Keeper.

What’s the old saying? Baseball is designed to break your heart.

Well that played out this afternoon. The Yanks paid tribute to Mariano Rivera before the game in a ceremony that had all the subtlety of a buffet on a cruise ship. And then there was the game. Andy Pettitte was beautiful. Gave up two hits and left in the 7th inning with a man on second and the game tied, 1-1. David Robertson let the run score and then Mariano got the last two outs.

Which set it all up nicely for a happy ending. Alex Rodriguez singled to start the 8th and moved to third on Robinson Cano’s double. Second and third, no out. And wouldn’t you know it but they didn’t score. Didn’t score, man.

Mo didn’t allow a run in the 9th but Sergio Romo retired the Yanks 1-2-3 and that was that.

No dice. Giants 2, Yanks 1.

Season over.

And that’s baseball, Suzyn.

[Photo Credit: Joel Zimmer]

Andy Pettitte’s final regular season start at Yankee Stadium comes on Marian Rivera Appreciation Day. Nobody does self-congratulatory schmaltz like the Yankees. But still, for one afternoon, I’ll play along since it’s for a good cause–giving thanks to a peerless career.

It’s gorgeous in the Bronx. Blue sky, no clouds, autumn chill in the air.

Ichiro Suzuki RF
Alex Rodriguez DH
Robinson Cano 2B
Alfonso Soriano LF
Curtis Granderson CF
Eduardo Nunez 3B
Mark Reynolds 1B
Brendan Ryan SS
Chris Stewart C

Never mind the preamble, enjoy the festivities and:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

“Juck Juck Pt. 1”–Sir Jablonsky

[Photo Via: Aberrant Beauty]

The Yanks scored 3 runs in the third, a couple more in the fourth, and Lil’ Sori added a solo home run a few innings later. It was more than enough for Ivan Nova who went the distance and tossed a shutout. It made for a tension-free afternoon in the Bronx. Two-and-a-half hours, folks.

Tidy.

Final Score: Yanks 6, Giants 0.

Only drag is that the Rays beat the O’s again.

[Photo Via: toiletwolf]

Ivan Nova looks to recover from his last outing which was, well, it was shitty.

It’s a cool, overcast day in the Bronx.

Ichiro Suzuki RF
Alex Rodriguez DH
Robinson Cano 2B
Alfonso Soriano LF
Curtis Granderson CF
Eduardo Nunez 3B
Mark Reynolds 1B
Brendan Ryan SS
Chris Stewart C

Never mind the scoreboard:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Bernice Abbott via Je Suis Perdu]

Grand groove.

“Yes I Do”–45 Kings

[Photo by Wang Yuanling via MPD]

We’re at the well-take-what-we-can-get stage of the season and so what’s not to like about Friday night’s game? C.C. Sabathia pitched his best game in recent memory, Alex Rodriguez broke a 1-1 tie in the 7th with a grand slam, and Mariano Rivera retired the Giants in order in the 9th. Yup, a tidy, send-’em-home-happy win if there ever was one.

Too little, too late? M’eh, let’s not think like that. It was a good time.

Especially nice to see Sabathia in control. Rodriguez, who has been in a terrible slump with his leg injuries, was able to use his upper body to smack a fly ball to the shallow part of the park in right for his grand slam. He’s now the career record holder with 24, passing The Iron Horse.

And Mo, ah, Mo. A strikeout, broken bat pop out and a ground out. Made to order.

Final Score: Yanks 5, Giants 1.

(Story of the night in the AL playoff race was that the Rays outlasted the O’s, 5-4 in 18 goddamn innings.)

[Photo Credit: Mike Fitzpatrick/AP]

The Giants are in town, and while the Yanks aren’t completely out of it, they sure are almost dead, especially the way they’ve played this past week.

Andy announced his retirement again. He will be missed for sure.

Never mind those Giants fans in the stands:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Via: Street Iphoneography]

Light day of blogging here at the Banter. We’ll be back for the game tonight.

Meanwhile, listen to this novelty record and smile.

Over at the New York Review of Books, Charles Simic gives us Spaghetti Lessons:

Italian restaurants produce not only epicures but also aspiring cooks. I bought cold cuts, cheeses, and olives for years in Italian groceries on Bleecker Street until one day I started cooking pasta, grilling sausages, and inviting friends over to my place on East 13th Street. In the 1950s and 1960s almost no one in literary circles knew how to cook, so these modest efforts of mine received extravagant praise. From then on, each time I tasted something in a restaurant, I’d wonder how it was made, what spices were used, and recollected other occasions when the same dish had come out differently. Now that I live in a village in New Hampshire, cooking Italian is a way of carrying on that comparative study. This may be a tautology, but a meal that does not cause an outpouring of memories is not a memorable meal. I don’t know how other poets imagine their muses, but mine is an Italian cookbook.

It is their unhurried air that makes most Italian restaurants congenial to everything from flirting to a rambling philosophical discussion. You linger over a glass of red wine and a plate of cheese at the meal’s end, alone or in the company of friends, while the place empties. Outside, there may be the lights of Manhattan or the tugboats in Portsmouth harbor. The waiter or the owner may bring a grappa eventually to remind you of the lateness of the hour, but he does not rush you. When you finally get up and leave, it’s out of consideration for him, but also out of genuine panic that you might be crazy enough to ask for another bowl of pasta or some of that grilled squid on a bed of white beans you enjoyed so much.

The story of Dorothy and Herb Vogel is a good one. 

“The City” by Edward Hopper (1927)

That’s all, folks.

Sure Hiroki Kuroda wasn’t great but he toughed it out again. Sure, Joe Girardi didn’t help matters when he brought Joba Chamberlain in a two-run game. And of course it isn’t all Joba’s fault either. He’s just being himself. Tonight that meant walk, base hit, three-run homer. Yet that wasn’t the worst of it because the Yanks only managed one lousy run, on a solo home run of all things. Apart from one inning last night they haven’t done dick in this series. Just got their asses handed to them and went out like lambs.

The final score: Jays 6, Yanks 2.

Pathetic it what it was.