Save the date, Los Angeles: There’s a Matthew Gallaway reading on Thursday, May 19th, at 7p.m., at Book Soup, with a Q&A; with Natasha Vargas-Cooper; this will be followed by drinks with everyone in the known universe at the Parlour Room.

Luke Scott’s ‘American History K’

by David Roth and David Raposa

David Raposa: Here is some high-quality fantasy baseball analysis: “[Joey Votto’s .476 OBP is] 50 points higher than the on-base percentage he posted a year ago but he has increased that mark each of his first four seasons in the majors so he should be able to keep up this pace.”

David Roth: That sentence is a joy to read. I’m so glad Rotoworld has Michael Ondaatje writing for them now.

David Raposa: How would you rejigger those bon mots, Mr. Professional Writer, Sir? “Hey, so this guy is getting on base like Barry Bonds, but he should be able to continue that ridiculous pace, so you can go ahead and play 13 Rajai Davises to get your SBs up.”

David Roth: I prefer the second take, but I guess if the alternative is The Funny Fantasy Baseball Analyst, I guess I’ll take dry-and-wrong over jokes-about-the Miller Lite Lifeguard Commercials-and-wrong.

David Raposa: MAN UP, LATOS DOWN

David Roth: It is admittedly hard to write a sentence that is only about Joey Votto’s OBP and how that impacts You, The Reader. But fantasy baseball analysis is the wildest frontier of sportswriting out there — either ungrammatical calculation-y stuff of the “unless and until he’s convicted, he belongs in your starting lineup” variety, or cornballin’ bro-shtick. I read a thing from Matthew Berry earlier this week that was like 650 words on the narrative shortcomings of that “Mr. Snuggles” commercial that McDonald’s is running for its new 70oz. Caffeinated Diabetes Juice, and then an endorsement of Randy Wolf at the end.

David Raposa: I want to see more ambition. “Joey Votto’s unparalleled OBP should augur well for the War on Terror and the price of a barrel of oil.”

David Roth: CNBC that shit. And find a way to stir in a joke about The Most Interesting Man In The World.

David Roth: So, now it’s my turn to mention something I wanted to make sure we talked about: The Pirates are above .500. I wanted to get that on the record.

David Raposa: Is this one of those “latest they’ve been above .500 since Mike LaValliere was svelte” type of deals?

David Roth: The first time since 2004, I think. Back when Howard Dean was the name on everyone’s lips and… I don’t know, what else happened in 2004?

David Raposa: I dunno… Something about the Yankees…

David Roth: Something something Nickelback…

David Roth: I think Bloomberg appointed Anna Benson schools chancellor in ‘04? Or was that ‘03? I should really know this.

David Roth: Luke Scott was still a minor league slugger, and not yet the Republican nominee for President of these United States.

David Raposa: Oh, didn’t Long Form get waylaid by karma?

David Roth: Unless he got run over by a Prius driven by Booker T. Washington and Sen. Bernie Sanders, not nearly enough.

David Roth: Believing terrible things about minorities and taking a Tech-Nine into the shower with him is just something he does to stay loose.

David Raposa: I’m going to pretend that clown’s inability to believe the truth is some sort of at-bat ritual. Nomar adjusted his gloves, Ichiro extends his bat towards the pitcher, Scott gives thanks to Aqua Buddha.

David Roth: You know, we’re not really helping with the ignore-him-and-he’ll-go-away thing in re: Long Form Luke. Although I’m all for making up superstitions for various players, I think we should let Luke mumble darkly to himself about ZOG and the Bilderberg Group in the corner.

David Roth: That said, I think we owe it to the baseball fan community to talk about how Josh Hamilton won’t take BP unless Amy Grant’s “Baby Baby” is playing on the PA. That’s a totally made-up superstition people need to know about.

David Raposa: So the day he slid head-first into home, someone switched out Amy Grant for Oxbow?

David Roth: It’s part of his recovery process that Hamilton cannot listen to music with guitars in it.

David Raposa: It’s a shame we’ll never see him rock out to Alter Bridge during All-Star Game festivities, then.

David Roth: If he even hears a few chords of “With Eyes Wide Open” he wakes up three days later in a trailer in Bradenton, Florida surrounded by crack rocks, yellow cake uranium and a dozen howler monkeys that he bought after pawning his parents’ riding mower. There’s angel dust in his eyebrows and he’s like, “Seriously, where is my angel dust, I need that.”

David Raposa: And with that, The Asylum’s The Hang-over is greenlit.

David Roth: Alter Bridge… I made a joke about them the other day and only later realized I don’t quite know what they are. They’re somehow affiliated with MLB, but are not Scott Spiezio’s band, right?

David Raposa: Alter Bridge is that dude from Creed, that other dude from Creed, and Mickey Tettleton on the theremin.

David Roth: Ah, right. Spiezio’s band is Sandfrog. And they’re way heavier and dumber than the name makes them sound. Sandfrog makes them sound like a cover band that plays at Margaritavilles in the Carolinas and before beach volleyball events.

David Raposa: And now, some schadenfreude courtesy of CJ Wilson: “[The A’s] take everything close. If it’s not called a strike, then they walk. It’s lawyer ball. That’s how they roll. That’s how they’re going to beat me. That’s how they have to beat me. I have to make a bunch of mistakes and walk a bunch of guys because they’re not that good of a hitting team. “

David Raposa: LAWYER BALL — Joe Morgan now has a title for his new book, and Jonah Hill has another chance to play a character 50 pounds outside of his weight class.

David Roth: That’s total office-softball grousing, there.

David Raposa: “I can’t believe they’re making me throw strikes because they won’t chase my off-plate slop.”

David Roth: CJ Wilson is interesting to me. His straight-edge thing hints at an alt-y edge that just isn’t there. I was hoping he’d be at, like, Earth Crisis shows all x’ed up and getting really mad about factory farms. Instead he’s at Buffalo Wild Wings with his teammates, but he’s drinking an Arnold Palmer.

David Raposa: Racing cars and harboring dreams of going pro with the vroom-vroom isn’t SXE? Did you never listen to Shelter’s “The Checkered Flag Is Yours”?

David Roth: I don’t know much about the straight-edge scene these days, but I can’t figure out where NASCAR fits into it.

David Raposa: “Roadhouse Tea isn’t liquor, right?”

David Roth: “Nope, it’s tougher than that. You haven’t seen the commercial for it, where the West Coast Choppers guy punches out a rhinoceros and rides off in a muscle car with Janine Lindemulder?”

David Roth: Do you know about the baseball/music magazine Lookout! Records used to put out?

David Raposa: Of course I do not!

David Roth: It was called Chin Music. I used to have a couple issues.

David Raposa: The Roxy Music cover homage is pretty great. The headline “The Team That Will Not Die: Montreal’s Expos,” not so much.

David Roth: Yeah, it is. And the design on the Spiezio cover is good, too. Although Spiezio screws it up, as he does. The articles weren’t great. They were clearly more comfortable interviewing The Fastbacks than they were talking to, like, Matt Stairs.

David Raposa: Clearly they weren’t down with Stairs’ fondness for Matt Szabo and Superconductor.

David Raposa: So how is your fantasy team? Mildly disappointing, or outright awful like mine?

David Roth: Oh, I have two, and they’re both terrible. What’s the matter with your team? The matter with my teams is Carl Crawford.

David Raposa: My team has all sorts of problems: winless pitchers, hitless batters, injured relievers — but since I have A-Rod, I’m blaming him for everything.

David Raposa: If only A-Rod could get Madison Bumgarner some wins!

David Roth: A less-selfish player would. Maybe having Carlos Beltran on my roster is a problem after all! He has divided my imaginary clubhouse with his selfish excellence to the point where Ubaldo Jimenez can’t even stop sucking out loud.

David Raposa: I heard that Beltran guy is a dick! Can’t believe the Mets ever signed that clown. Maybe the Mets can bring in Milton Bradley to straighten out the clubhouse.

David Roth: Walking Tall-style.

David Raposa: That’s the way he’d do it. Though he’d come up lame after a swing.

David Roth: I wonder what’s next for Milton. I mean, the obvious immediate answer is “The Bridgeport Bluefish.” But after that. He and Elijah Dukes could form a Franklin & Bash-style sports agency?

David Raposa: He’s gotten dinged for spousal abuse nonsense, right?

David Roth: Yeah, which obviously makes him totally unsympathetic. But otherwise you can see him as a short-tempered dude who didn’t take well to getting racial slurs yelled at him by the home fans during his flameout with the Cubs.

David Raposa: That’s a dude I can get behind. Especially if said dude gets put on the 60-day DL reaching down to pick something up.

David Roth: That always killed me about the way his Cubs years got covered. All the Tribune and Sun-Times guys being like, “Well, you know how the bleachers are. A few dozen beers and they start saying some really racist shit that they obviously mean.”

David Raposa: “They can’t HELP but be racist shitbags. It’s Milton’s fault for not rolling with the punches. If you’re still upset after the 50th N-word, the problem is you, am I right?”

David Roth: The punches being repeated slurs from a bunch of yuppie bigots. Or… I don’t know. My understanding of Cubs fans is basically that they’re the characters from About Last Night or Vince Vaughn. I don’t know who sits in the bleachers at Wrigley, really.

David Raposa: The other Belushis.

David Roth: I know that at the old Yankee Stadium, the bleachers was where the Rikers bus dropped off people from the women’s prison. And also everyone named “Vin” got in for free every night.

David Raposa: That Bradley/Cubs marriage was a perfect storm of assured destruction, though. The Cubs overpay for a guy that can’t go 10 games in the field without getting hurt.

David Roth: To be fair, it was the first time they’d tried that.

David Raposa: And Milton goes to a team whose fan base will forever blame their team’s ineptitude on scapegoats.

David Roth: To be fair to Cubs fans, it is easier when the scapegoat in question is a non-stop bile geyser with bad knees and a lousy contract. But also fuck being fair to Cubs fans on this one, maybe?

David Raposa: I wish those post-season clip montages would stow the Bartman footage and show The Other Alex Gonzalez booting a double play grounder.

David Roth: Or just show some footage of Mark Prior grimacing.

David Raposa: Or just show every Neifi Perez at-bat in a Cubs uni.

David Roth: Oh please don’t.

David Roth co-writes the Wall Street Journal’s Daily Fix, contributes to the sports blog Can’t Stop the Bleeding and has his own little website. And he tweets!

David Raposa writes about music for Pitchfork and other places. He used to write about baseball for the blog formerly known as Yard Work. He occasionally blogs for himself, and he also tweets way too much.

Photo by Keith Allison.

You know why we can’t have pictures of dead Osama bin Laden? Because the government knows you’d just Photoshop cats and Xzibit and cartoon come-lines in there.

by Benjamin Shanbrom

Paul Ryan: The Path to Prosperity
House of Representatives; 2011

This may be a debut proposal, but Paul Ryan sounds as if he’s been talking for years. Kicking off with head-spinning timetable changes and sky-shattering reconstructions to Healthcare, The Path is positively vicious. From massive entitlement crunch to barreling tax cut lows, this plan rips like a Martian gas-guzzler determined to alter civilized society for generations to come. Ryan spits a fantastic fallacy-laden flow with bold gestures and strong hand signals throughout — it seems he means bidness. His earnestness combined with the impressive production values that back the work, make for an inescapable impact, like a child’s awe at the ravaged ruins of Ephesus. This isn’t a promo for your laptop with those crappy Mac Book speakers — you’re going to want to blast this at Lossless, 320 kbps quality.

But the big news here is the plan’s concept. Set in post-apocalyptic America, a world Orwell could have all too easily crafted himself, this debut ushers the listener through the chilling, dystopian landscape of an alternate future, one where a weary proletariat carry the crushing burden of their own healthcare. Spooky stuff, but a little over the top. Here’s hoping we don’t get a neo-conservative space odyssey on Ryan’s next release.

The representative’s use of subtle instrumentation does, however, enhance the experience. Cimmerian string washes with piano trickle make for a haunting introduction to his sorrowing voice, while staccato cello runs close his work in truly bombastic fashion: “It is up to this generation to pick this path. The question is: will we do it, or not. It is up to us.”

Goosebumps.

Ryan’s angst is addicting. His lyrics are dramatic and heartfelt, recalling, at times, a budding, Republican Trent Reznor. Unfortunately, they don’t vary much from section to section and occasionally come off as a little ham-fisted. It sounds as if he just never got over that first big bailout of his teen years. Some more inspired content would have indubitably served the project better.

Splendidly bleak, deliciously dark and all together menacing, The Path to Prosperity is an engaging piece from start to finish. Alas, its appeal is rather transient. While its exclusively conservative style initially seems visceral and gripping, it quickly becomes boorish and one-note over repeat listens. Nevertheless, Ryan’s willingness to make risky aesthetic choices is commendable. If you were a fan of Neo Bush-era economic policy, pick this one up asap. All others may find this effort too polarizing (and vaguely apocalyptic) to make it all the way through.

Barack Obama: Remarks by the President on Fiscal Policy
The Executive Branch; 2011

After the release of Ryan’s solo debut, President Obama struck back with his own full-length take on the budget crisis. Recorded live at the prestigious George Washington University Auditorium, his work has a spontaneous grit and liveliness largely absent from Ryan’s muddily overproduced concept pitch. While Remarks may lack the stylish noir politics of The Path to Prosperity, it makes up for it with charisma and breadth. “These are the kinds of cuts that tell us we can’t afford the America that I believe in and I think you believe in,” the president bellows into the mic. Obama is in great form throughout, his warm baritone lubricating every point.

The first two tracks surge by in a loaded one-two punch. Beginning with a driving bipartisan backbeat, Obama leaps into a soaring chorus of continued discretionary spending. And believe me, you’ll have this one stuck in your head for weeks!

Following the opening piece, the ethos-filled “Cutting Defense Spending” sends the plan into full swing, featuring a welcome guest appearance by Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Admiral Mullen. His military background makes for a great contrast with Obama’s rich anti-Keynesian timbre.

The work also ends very memorably with the killer closing sentiment, “Allowing Bush-Era Tax Cuts to Expire.” Unfortunately, the plan falls a little flat in its most crucial movement, “Reducing Health Care Expenditures.” Epic liberal entitlement leads are ear-catching on first listen, but then shuffle sluggishly to a vague anti-climax. Likewise, heavier, more complex spending breakdowns would have undoubtedly been unpopular with mainstream audiences, but would have been invaluable to the impact and replay value of his plan.

Yet it seems churlish to harp on that point, especially when the voltaic live experience of Obama and his crowd is so captivating. Hearing his most striking sentiments resonating with an exuberant audience parallels the act of witnessing the reunion between two teary-eyed parents and their long-abducted child. Powerful, indeed.

Overall, Remarks by the President on Fiscal Policy is a promising release and a step in the right direction. Its centric influences make for a refreshing twist and its realism in many areas is compelling. The unique style and elements present will hopefully be developed in new plans down the road, but, for now, this is a policy you’ll definitely want to check out!

A recent graduate of Boston College, Benjamin Shanbrom spends his time blasting the skins in the Connecticut progressive alt-rock act Bushwhack and writing semi-witty rantings about music and other malarkey on Metal Sucks, 411mania, and his blog, Broken Sticks.

“These fish are like Godzilla. Two or three years ago we would see the odd one here and there, but now on every dive they’re there. I’ve been diving these reefs for over 30 years and I’m worried that these fish are taking over.”
 — Cayman Islands scuba diver Peter Hillenbrand on the lionfish, an extremely predatory invasive species that is apparently eating all the other fish in the Caribbean Sea. One study at a coral reef in the Bahamas showed that lionfish, which are native to the Indian and the Pacific Oceans but have no natural predators in Western waters, reduced the numbers of native species by nearly 80 percent. Watching the video above, you can see why. That thing is like the most enthusiastic Sigma Chi pledge during hell week. (And then it’s 90s-rave-party night at the house. But the panther grouper who shares his dorm room stays in and studies and tsk-tsks like, “fratboys.”)

Here you will find a list of five kooky religions, which somehow presumes that other religions are not equally kooky.

Do you like that guy Zach Condon’s band Beirut? I sure do. He wrote a very nice new song recently (with especially nice horn parts, as you might expect), and played it in Norfolk, Virginia on Monday. (It’s funny that a band named after city makes a song named after a different city. Beirut has done this before, though with a less famous city for the song. Some other band must have done it, too. But can’t think of any other examples. Does Boston have a song called “Helsinki?” Did Berlin ever cover Seger’s “Katmandu?”) Oh, Beirut has a new album coming this summer, which is exciting, and also wrote (along with Bob Dylan!) music for a new movie directed by Alma Ha’rel called Bombay Beach. It’s a “documentary-record-cum-drama with dreamlike musical dance numbers” about people who live in a very impoverished area in Southern California, and to judge from the trailer, it looks like it could be really, really good.

But also maybe overly intense and emotionally sadistic? The scenes with the little kid and his mom tear your heart out in six seconds. Hmmm. It played for a week in New York last month. Here’s what Eric Kohn said about it in his review in Indiewire:

The small, impoverished community where the movie is set — buried in the heat of the Colorado desert in Southern California, on the cusp of the man-made Salton Sea — brings to mind the remnants of a vacation resort in a post-apocalyptic world. These are real people living in an abandoned fairy tale, with little to do besides stare into the horizon and sigh.

Jesus. And then with dreamlike musical dance numbers, too? I’m not sure I want to see this. But I might want to a lot.

“’It was almost completely worthless,’ said Jeffrey Tufenkian, 49, who along with his wife, Sona, enrolled in a $35,000 ‘Gold Elite’ class at Trump University to jump-start a career in real estate.”
 — I’m pro-regulation and for protections against deceptive business practices and all… but at a certain point, you’re on your own, you know? Maybe don’t brush your teeth with motor oil! Don’t dive into bodies of water when you don’t know their depth! Don’t spend tens of thousands of dollars on made-up universities, and don’t buy anything just because it has ‘Trump’ in the name.

Apparently, When Ultramafic Rock Melts, Its Conductivity Spikes, And That’s Why Io Distorts Jupiter’s Magnetic Field As Dramatically As It Does

“Later experiments in mineral physics found out that when ultramafic rocks, which are rocks very high in magnesium and iron — when those are melted, their conductivity shoots up by orders or magnitude. And it is that very high conductivity that can create the type of signature we have seen. So, we needed mineral physics to catch up with our data.”
 — For a long time, scientists have wondered why the magnetometer readings around the Jovean moon Io were so crazy. Turns out it’s because Io is so ultramafic. Io is also the most volcanic world in the entire solar system, due to a seething, 30-mile-thick ocean of magma just beneath its crust. Cool! (And very hot, with temperatures exceeding 1,200 degrees Celsius.)

by Adrian Chen

“Ever since an elite unit of Navy SEALs stormed a fortresslike compound near Islamabad, Pakistan, and killed Osama bin Laden, people can’t get enough of the SEALs… The serious-minded can sift through countless articles and hours of documentaries. The more prurient can mine an entire universe of Navy SEAL romance novels.” — The Washington Post

As a shy librarian, Jinnie hadn’t taken a lot of risks in her 24 years. But when her Navy SEAL boyfriend, Robert, pulled into her driveway Friday night she decided to risk it all. She hopped on the back of Robert’s motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his broad waist, and leaned to whisper into his ear.

“I think we should try something different tonight.”

Robert turned to her, puzzled. “But… I made reservations at that tactical shooting range you like. With all the High Value Target scenarios?”

“I’m sick of shooting,” Jinnie said.

“We could go back to that obstacle course we did last weekend…” Robert said.

“No obstacle course.”

“What — you wanna do Cold Weather Training ops? It’s summer, for chrissake!”

“Let’s have dinner,” Jinnie said.

“I’ve got a couple of MRE’s right — “

“In a restaurant.”

Enzo’s was a dimly lit Italian joint in the city, the site of a hundred bygone marriage proposals. When their minestrone soup was served, Robert submerged his face in the bowl for nearly two minutes, keeping his head down by sheer force of will until his lungs burned and he felt seconds away from drowning. Jinnie grabbed his head between two hands.

“Robert! This is an Italian restaurant, not Hell Week.”

Robert lifted his face out of the soup, disoriented and gasping for breath. Years of training automatically kicked in as he executed a brutally efficient silent takedown on the maitre d’ and screened the corners of the room for threats.

When Robert returned to his seat Jinnie sighed, gazing into his steel-blue eyes. “If things are going to work between us, you need to start learning how to be as comfortable in my world as I am in yours.”

Robert returned her gaze. “For you, I’ll try anything,” he said as he stirred his drink with the barrel of his sidearm.

Later, they lay entwined on Jinnie’s living room couch. She had decided tonight would be the night.

Jinnie used her finger to trace the small skulls tattooed on Robert’s corded forearm, one for each tango down. “You really killed this many people,” she marveled.

“That’s not even counting civilians,” Robert said, lifting his t-shirt over his head to reveal washboard abs covered in skull tattoos. Jinnie’s heart beat like a hummingbird in her chest.

He ripped off his tear-away training pants. Skull tattoos tracked up and down his bulging calves like pinstripes.

Jinnie bent over and traced the skull tattoos up Robert’s right leg, brushing his inner thigh, which was also covered in skull tattoos. He shivered with pleasure.

Robert stood and peeled off his underwear. Skull tattoos blanketed the perfect round of his buttocks. He turned around and Jinnie barely stifled a gasp. Fourteen skull tattoos graced his manhood.

They had kissed many times before. But it was only when they kissed that night that Jinnie noticed the inside of Robert’s nostrils were ringed with hundreds of nearly-microscopic skull tattoos.

The sex had been better than she had ever dared imagine. But as Jinnie lay luxuriating in the dark she reached over and found Robert wasn’t there. Instead, he was standing fully dressed in the bedroom doorway, cradling his stub-barreled HK416 rifle.

“Where are you off to at this hour, mystery man?” Jinnie teased.

“Something’s come up,” Robert replied. He added, with a wink, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

They laughed for a good minute over that one, because they knew that if Robert disclosed classified information to Jinnie the government would actually murder both of them.

THE END

Adrian Chen is a staff writer at Gawker. Here is his Twitter.