Cincinnati Reds second baseman Brandon Phillips has established himself, among baseball players, as one of that sport’s most active users of social media — and his Twitter handle (@DatDudeBP) is one of the league’s most recognizable.

What the author has uncovered today, however, while reading French — that is, a language very similar to English, were English spoken exclusively by pornographers with sinus infections — is that the Twitter handle @DatDudeBP actually belonged originally to noted, if tragically underappreciated, Surrealist poet Benjamin Peret (1899-1959).

Recognized by progenitor of the movement Andre Breton as the most faithful to Surrealism’s core values, Peret was an enthusiastic user of Twitter, even some 80 years before it (i.e. Twitter itself) was invented — a startling fact on the face of things, but less so when one considers that the Surrealist mission concerned itself primarily with the construction of new realities.

Below, in fact, we find evidence not only of Peret using Twitter, but also how it might have served him in the composition of his work.

Here’s the first of three tweets by Peret from February of 1926. Translated loosely it reads: “For seven centuries he commanded his fourteen lobsters.”

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Upon reviewing video of Wednesday night’s controversial ninth-inning hit by Oakland’s Adam Rosales, Major League Baseball has determined that umpire Angel Hernandez is a paranormal and likely malevolent being.

Though the incident occurred quickly enough to escape the notice of most real-time observers, the footage (stills above) clearly shows Hernandez summoning some sort of supernatural power from the sky, turning it upon outraged A’s manager Bob Melvin, and encasing him briefly in ice.

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From Yahoo: “Sources Say Sunscreen Trick Is Pitchers’ Latest Method to Gain an Edge”

What, you ask, is this sunscreen trick? Before you read the article, see if you can pick the right answer from the choices below. (Or add your own invented explanations in the comments.)

A) Sunscreen, applied to the ball, gives the ball immunity against being hit too close to the sun, lowering the average height of fly balls, and making home runs far less likely.

B) Sunscreen, applied to the pitcher’s hand and the baseball, creates a translucency that makes it hard for batters to see where the ball is coming from, the seams, and the spin.

C) Sunscreen, applied to the pitcher’s face, makes him reflect the sun in such a way that batters are distracted and have trouble looking in his direction.

D) Sunscreen, applied to the pitcher’s arm, can be combined with powdered rosin to offer an improved grip on the ball and a superior finish to the pitch.

And, no, I’m not very good at Balderdash.

Last Saturday, while I convened with Master Cistulli regarding the Discretionary NERD Scores for that day’s games, the Master — past whom nothing gets — noticed, via an uninvited glance at my desktop, my Largely Unnecessary, Decidedly Large, Neatly Organized, and Fully Computerized Collection of Digital Baseball Images™.

Why?

“Why do you have so many images that, one guesses, might be easily found on the internet at any given time?” Master Cistulli asked, not without the condescension common in those who readily identify themselves as both “raised in the Northeast” and “fond of boarding schools.”

My initial response — “For ease of access” — has become unsatisfactory to me in retrospect, and has caused, of late, something of an existential crisis. It should probably be noted, though, that something as minor as one of my cats sneezing is enough to send me into hours of contemplation and deep feelings of meaninglessness.

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“The throw to second is wide… and he’s out!”
“How’d he do that?”

We’ll never know.

Thanks to Doug Miller for pointing out the play.

Softball, generally thought as a game for drunkards and women, was hoisted up by a group of great men.

The final score of the game between Team Harlem Nights and Team Ghost Dad:

America -1
Fascism – 0

If you had the wherewithal and courage to keep a list of your life’s biggest regrets, you would have to find room in the upper margins to squeeze in “Not watching a softball game played by Red Foxx, Eddie Murphy, Sidney Poitier, Bill Cosby, and Richard Pryor.”

These giants stand poised and somewhat attentive as they prepare for battle on the condensed field. Mr. Tibbs will pitch, thank you very much.

Red has the most manager-like name, so he manages. Every clap of encouragement jiggles his dancing lady tattoo. Eddie Murphy wonders if he locked his Maserati.

The third baseman was literally on fire once.

And Ghost Dad himself, where should he play? Catcher? Too tall. His lack of power doesn’t play at first base. Ghost Dad shall haunt center field.

The game was won with a walk-off homer. Who hit it? It doesn’t matter.

Because it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s whether or not you played softball with Bill Cosby.

Photo credit goes to Buzzfeed.

My wife and I, being healthy and productive members of both society and the working class, often spend our evenings pursuing projects that imbue our lives with a sense of fulfillment and personal satisfaction. So was it on the evening last, as I typed words about baseball and my wife digitized photographs of our collective youth. These two spheres collided tragically when  my aforementioned and charming wife uncovered photographs of my own baseballing pursuits, in the form of fake baseball cards devoted to my Little League team.

I present to you the backs of said cards. I do not present their fronts, because as you are perhaps aware, the Internet is a swarthy port-tavern of a place, and the present author may have, in his youth, worn the sort of spectacles that put Ron Kittle’s to shame.

I also present them to you in order to confess the sins of a foolhardy youth. Judge as thou wilt, Internet. I shall emerge the stronger for it.

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This is the analogies section of this week’s NotGraphs SAT. Please choose the correct response from the choices below.

1. 1 Hit : Bloody Nose :: O Hits : _______
(a) Bloody Sock
(b) Bloody Fingers
(c) Bloody Brothers
(d) Bloody Screwball

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In the epic battle that is cake vs. pie, I’m relatively certain we’ve all already chosen our sides, dug in our heels, and prepared to kill our own brother if necessary. Personally, I’m a cake guy because, like the estimable Paul F. Tompkins, frosting makes all the difference to me.  And I never much liked my brother anyway.

This debate has largely been left to arena of actual desserts, however, and we have not delved into the quandary that is Cake vs. Pie, Baseball Edition!  Choose your sides carefully: Read the rest of this entry »

Slim down and shave up,
buy a tie and a cream-
colored polo.

Who needs a mountain
man’s beard if you can
have an IT man’s dribble
of chin hair.

And who needs Santa’s girth
if you can impress the ladies
with the Satan’s bony ribs.

In an unrelated note, I recently lost 35 pounds and shaved my beard. I’m sorry this is how you had to find out.