I’ve often referred to Lookout Landing’s Jeff Sullivan as the Charles Schulz of his generation. Except angrier. And drunker. And less talented.

I’ve never had a reason for doing any of that until today, however, when Sullivan gave us this — i.e. a comic strip rendering of Brian Cashman introducing new Yankee Rafael Soriano, the relief pitcher whom he (i.e. Cashman) has reluctantly signed to a a three-year, $35 million contract.

Below are three select panels, but you should visit LL and let the magic surround you.

Mr. John Hodgman,

I hope this letter finds you enjoying life, preferably in some manner of overstuffed chair, drinking one of the more expensive fermented beverages available legally (or not so much) in this country.

Even if this is not the case, it’s how I plan on imagining you for the duration of this electronic message.

You don’t know me, sir, but — with the exception of some enormous differences in fame and riches and access to world leaders — we have a great deal in common. For one, we’re both native sons of New England. While I, for my part, am from the mostly unkempt part known as New Hampshire, I at least had the decency to attend boarding school as soon as I’d realized the setbacks my youth had leveled against me.

Additionally, we both have a strong affinity for Western Massachusetts, where I pursued my graduate studies and where you, the internet tells me, currently reside.

Finally — and most relevant to this dispatch, sir — we are both nerds.

It’s this last point that I’ll care to address here.

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Yesterday’s posts regarding both the potential improvement and imminent destruction of our fair sport elicited an order from the Dark Overlord David Appelman to run this documentary clip from the future — about a sport known to our distant and larger-eyed descendants as “Blernsball.”

Blernsball appears to be quite similar to baseball — except for all the differences, of course.

One note to make: the lady person suggests that something called the “7th Inning Grope” is a tradition unique to Blernsball; however, I’m sure that our readers from the Philadelphia part of the country will attest to that city’s long and nuanced history of unwanted touching.

Earlier today, my colleague Dayn Perry submitted for the readership’s consideration a plan to improve baseball. Though I can’t necessarily speak to the virtues of his proposal — one which, it needs to be said, involves praising, if only implicitly, the works and days of the American South — I certainly commend Mr. Perry for his efforts.

It seems only natural, given Mr. Perry’s submission, that we might turn our gaze in the other direction — that is, towards those rule changes which might destroy baseball immediately. One might note — and not incorrectly so, I think — that Major League Baseball itself has frequently been on the front lines of this effort, whether by instituting bizarrely significant rewards for winning the All-Star Game or proving notoriously stingy with their online media. Still, there are some means to the end of baseball’s destruction left unplumbed by even their tireless efforts.

Here are ten ways that the sport of baseball could be destroyed posthaste:

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This video today comes to us courtesy both reader Julian (via the Team NotGraphs Hot Hotline) and the world wide web.

Willie Mays is the guest on this episode of What’s My Line from 11 July 1954.

Three things you’ll note:

• Mays speaks in tiny little mouse voice.
• Host John Charles Daly speaks with a Trans-Atlantic accent.
• Arlene Francis (the panelist who identifies Mays) isn’t effing around about being a Giants fan.

Friend of the blog — and actual, real-life friend — Dan Lurie made of the above a Christmas gift for yours truly. It’s a book, published in 1961, called World Series Encyclopedia and purporting to have “Game-By-Game Highlights” and “Lifetime Statistics Of All 1136 Series Players [1903-1960].”

Pictured here are the front and back covers, respectively. So far as I can tell, the illustrations on the front are of (clockwise from top left) Joe DiMaggio stepping over “napping” (read: “rather unconscious”) Cincinnati catcher Ernie Lombardi in 1939; 18-year-old New York Giant Freddie Lindstrom watching a grounder deflect off a pebble and over his head in 1924; and a would-be game-winning third strike eluding the grasp of Brooklyn catcher Mickey Owen in the 1941 Dodgers-Yankees series.

The back cover features the following illustrations: a Brooklyn “bum” harboring some grief towards Don Larsen and his perfect game in 1956; Willie Mays‘ uber-famous catch of Vic Wertz‘ center-field fliner in 1954; a metaphorical depiction of Cardinal Pepper Martin (who stole five bases in the 1931 series) “stealing” off Athletic catcher Mickey Cochrane; and Brooklyn Dodger Al Gionfriddo making a catch at the fence off a would-be Joe DiMaggio homer in 1947.

It should be noted that the ’47 Series also featured Dodger Cookie Lavagetto, making it (i.e. the series) an unambiguous victory for Italian-Americans everywhere.

Courtesy of Bradley Frigging Woodrum, who also produced — and won an EGOT for — FIP: A New ERA.

H/T: DRaysBay

This video of Carlos Pena signing a taco is actually the third in a series of three taking place over three consecutive spring trainings. I’ll submit that, while Episode Two is certainly watchable, it lacks the chemistry between the principal players that one finds in Episode Three. (Episode One, for its part, appears to be entirely absent from YouTube — which, that probably means it’s being remade with a bigger budget or something.)

In any case, here’s what happens in all the videos:

1. The cameraman and his friend — in attendance at Tampa’s spring-training facility — are like, “Hey, Carlos, sign this taco!”

2. Carlos Pena is all, “Signing tacos is weird!”

3. Carlos Pena signs the taco.

4. The cameraman’s friend eats the signed taco.

5. Fin.

As I say above, this particular installment is the third in a series, and it was posted 10 months ago, suggesting that it’s from Spring Training 2010. To say that the world is on the edge of its collective seat, wondering if now-Cub Pena and Co. will continue this tradition — that’d be an exercise in understatement, obviously.

H/T: Erik Frigging Hahmann

Everyone who’s anyone knows that a giggle factory is a factory that produces giggles en masse. And a giggle factory is what this guy became yesternight when he (i.e. I, Carson Cistulli) read Grant-of-McCovey-Chronicles’ post on some notable ballark promotions scheduled to occur this year at San Francisco’s AT&T Park.

Mr. Grant goes through a couple ideas, examining what sort of fun could be had with each, and then gives us this white-hot paragraph:

There are others that might appeal to you — pins, socks, belt buckles, shirts, Snuggie-type wearable blankets. It should be noted that my suggested promotion — “Stand Next to Buster Posey For a Few Minutes and Ask Him Some Questions, Shake His Hand, Stare At Him Uncomfortably, and Smell What Kind of Shampoo He Uses, You Know, Just Take It In” Day — was not included, and there doesn’t seem to be any evidence that it was even considered, despite countless letters and e-mails. There’s always next season. And the whole experience did give me an idea for a new site tagline: “McCovey Chronicles: Giants fandom from a court-ordered 500 feet away.”

While I don’t want to toot my own horn — or, at least not in public, where everyone can see me doing it (embarrassing!) — I think of myself as something of the proverbial Idea Man. With that in mind, I’ve concocted promotional ideas for five major league clubs.

Totally free of charge, here they are, MLB:

Organization: Atlanta Braves
Promotion: “Uggla Tree” Giveaway
Description: In celebration of Arbor Day and also the team’s new starting second baseman, the Braves give away saplings to the first 10,000 fans.

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Among the many topics discussed during the course of Plato’s Symposium, one of the most significant is the question of when the Major League Baseball season actually begins. “Is it the moment after the previous season’s World Series is concluded?” Pausanias wonders. “Perhaps when pitchers and catchers report?” Socrates counters. Finally, Aristophanes lightens the serious tone when he offers, “I say it’s when Scott Boras utters the words ‘mystery team!'”

I don’t have to remind you, bespectacled reader, how hard laughter abounds at this particular juncture of the text.

In any case, the matter is of some interest to us here at Not- and FanGraphs, as it’s become customary for our Full-Time Employee Dave Cameron to keep track of those players who claim that they’re currently in the best shape of their respective lives.

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