Since losing my job as an editor at a music magazine last year, I’ve been thinking a lot about what else I could do to earn a living. I have a lot of records and I can write pretty good and I edit okay with the help of spellcheck. But these things do not seem to be as lucrative in today’s market as they might have been in the past. (They were never really that lucrative in the first place, I don’t think.) More than once, I’ve had the conversation with my wife like the famous one from Seinfeld, wherein George and Jerry are talking about what kind of job George should try to get and George wonders whether he might be able to become a general manager of a baseball team since he likes baseball, or a projectionist since he likes watching movies. Pretty depressing, I know. I am as unoriginal as I am single-faceted. When I think of things that I am actually good at, like better than other people, I always end up at the opening of pistachio nuts.

I am really good at opening them. Even the difficult ones. I’ve never entered into a competition or anything, but I really think I might be exceptionally good at it. I end up opening and enjoying many pistachio nuts that I think would go uneaten by most people, tossed back in the bowl, dumped into the garbage with the empty shells. I don’t mean the totally sealed ones, of course. I’m not getting out the exacto knife for 1/49th of an ounce of protein. Those do go in the garbage. But give me the slightest slit, a fingernail’s breadth of daylight, and more times than not, I’ll work my way in. I’m diligent, but really, it doesn’t usually even take me that long. Find the purchase, crack the hinge. Call it a gift.

So then yesterday there’s this article at the BBC talking about how nuts are so healthy and that eating them has been proven to lower your cholesterol level. And I read it and I’m psyched, because the last time I had a check-up-which was much too long ago. I need to make another one, which unfortunately will entail finding a new doctor, because my doctor has moved to Long Island or something. There was a letter in the mail like six months ago. When I had my last check up, my cholesterol level was too high-my bad cholesterol level, I guess I should note, since there are good ones now, too. The since-disappeared doctor told me I should try to eat less cheese and meat or whatever and to lose a little weight. (And to drink less and to not use certain types of drugs that I sometimes like to use, etc. etc.) She said I should make another appointment in a couple months, and that we’d check the level again and if it hadn’t gone down maybe she’d prescribe me some Lipitor or something.

So I tried to change my diet for a while, and I tried to go jogging more often. But I gave it up pretty soon. And didn’t ever call to reschedule another appointment. Because I really didn’t want to go on Lipitor. And then I lost my job and stopped jogging altogether, because being unemployed has, strangely, made me feel busier than I did when I had a job. And then the doctor moved. So I was sure my cholesterol level would be higher than ever now. And this was kind of bumming me out. Because, while I don’t want to go on Lipitor, I also don’t want to die. I have a kid and stuff. But maybe the one thing that I’m actually good at will save me.

The new video from the born-in-Cincinnati-moved-to-Brooklyn artrockers The National is pretty cool. Singer Matt Berninger is like a cross between Bryan Ferry (which is always kind of his thing) and Jeff Daniels in The Squid and the Whale. Great tune, too.

Investigators are still trying to figure out exactly what happened to trigger the natural-gas explosion last month that led to a massive — and still-going — oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. So far the finger is being pointed at a series of events that included a decision to prematurely remove some heavy drilling lubricants from a pipeline, a directive that came down from the well owner, BP. (The “we love the environment” full-page ads that will result from this debacle should be a doozy, huh.) In the meantime, do you or your pet have extra hair? Do you feel like it should go to a cause that’s more benevolent than a salon’s clippings box? Well, thanks to the oil-absorbing properties of hair (and fur), those tresses can be turned into oil-absorbing mats that will help contain the 210,000 gallons-a-day spill. A delightfully soundtracked clip explaining the process after the jump.

[Clip via]

Ladies! They can work the Internet just like men! But they are better than men: These “hacktivists” only use their computer powers-powers one would typically associate with bepenised members of the species-for good, tracking down pedophiles, pornographers, and people who have put mean things up on the web. The psychic toll on the computer-using women is, of course, terrible-after such knowledge, what forgiveness, etc.-but I think we should all feel a little safer knowing that avenging angels are on our side. And they have vaginas!

The ever-dapper Jarvis Cocker has put together a free album of field recordings from National Trust sites around the UK, with the captured sounds including wind whooshing through a clock tower in Norwich and stairs creaking in Kent. Also it will apparently help you concentrate! Which is a tall order in these overstimulated times, but if there’s one man I trust to craft something to hold my attention, it’s Jarvis. [Via]

Feeling anxious? Dial up Mom, says Science: A recent study shows that girls who were able to chat with their mothers on the phone before a stressful event were beneficiaries of similar levels of the social bonding hormone oxytocin as being in actual physical contact with mommy.

Leslie Seltzer, from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, who led the research, said: “The children who got to interact with their mothers had virtually the same hormonal response, whether they interacted in person or over the phone.

“It was understood that oxytocin release in the context of social bonding usually required physical contact. But it’s clear from these results that a mother’s voice can have the same effect as a hug, even if they’re not standing there.”

The researchers chose to conduct the study on girls “because oxytocin responses are stronger in females than in males,” and also because the guys kept saying that they would make the call “just as soon as they unlocked the next level” on the videogame they were playing but never got around to picking up the phone.

This is pretty much the last thing my mind can handle while having coffee. But yes, good grief, Eliot Spitzer has been trotted out as a character witness for Supreme Court Justice nominee Elene Kagan’s heterosexuality in the world’s most ridiculous Internet show trial that proves the Internet has its head so far inside the Internet’s own butt. (Or maybe he has been hired as an expert witness? He is, after all, extremely conversant in the matters of professional heterosexuality.) Anyway, we were serious the other day when we referred to Kagan as “thoroughly actually heterosexual man-loving,” and, you know what, we are going to consider this matter addressed with total finality. This conversation is OVER!

At a “mere” 540 calories, KFC’s chickeny Double Down is actually a caloric bargain when you compare it to the Frankenfoodstuffs proffered by the spike-haired Sammy Hagar clone Guy Fieri on Diners, Drive-Ins, And Dives, argues Greg Beato: “The fry cooks and burger-flippers would take one look at the puny Double Down and start planning a remodel. Add a square foot or two of pastrami, throw in a pound of turkey for texture, season with a scoopful of onion rings, pull it all together with salsa, barbecue sauce, and a lot more bacon and cheese, and for God’s sake, give the customer a bun — a giant ciabatta round would do nicely.” OK, now I have a stomachache.

by Evan Hilbert

In the early fall of 2008, Will Leitch, a St. Louis Cardinals fan, attended a baseball game at historic Wrigley Field in Chicago. So Leitch — decked out in Cardinals gear — masochistically forced himself to watch his team’s hated rival, the hometown Cubs, clinch their second consecutive National League Central Division title in front of their adoring faithful. I do not know why he did this. And then he wrote a whole book about it? That can’t be right.

Wait! It’s not right! Are We Winning is not really about that at all. All that’s merely the setting for a story of father and son, family and mortality, baseball and fandom. As it turns out, Leitch was accompanied to the game by his father, Bryan, a devout Cardinals fan himself, and good friend, Mike, a Cubs fan. The story is told in half inning installments, with Leitch recounting the entire game with interjections and discursions. It’s quite brilliant, really, and funny. The interwoven stories of baseball players young and old are juxtaposed against childhood memories, with each chapter closing with a summary of maxims learned intended to be ingested by Leitch’s future son.

There’s also a beautiful parallel throughout: Bryan parents as Will writes. Leitch recounts a story from his twenties, when, as a down-and-out dot-commer, he returns home and is forced to ask his parents for money. They oblige. Later, when the topic is finally broached, there are no lashings or censures from the elder Leitch. Instead, there is an unspoken air of, ‘it’s-OK-just-don’t-ever-do-it-again,’ and the conversation turns where it always does for these two: baseball. And drinking in moving vehicles. But mostly baseball.

And now, we have a six-minute phone call.

How we doing in sales? One week in!

They tell me it’s OK, they’re not unhappy yet. They keep reminding me that it’s not like a movie opening. And it’s not like the first weekend makes all the difference all the way around. Certainly, they’re happy with it so far. I have a firm rule of not checking Amazon numbers, as I didn’t check traffic when I was at Deadspin. I prefer to live in ignorance. As long as they let me keep writing them, I assume we’re selling well.

What was the expectation?

Like a number?

Do you have a number?

No, I don’t have a number. My number is, if they let me do another one, then I sold enough to do that one. [inaudible Mattoonian gibberish] I learned with Catch that if you look at the Amazon numbers and you start obsessing over that, you’re missing the whole point of writing a book in the first place. I just try to stay out of that stuff. If they let me do another one, then I think I’ve sold enough.

Did you cry in the course of writing it?

I didn’t cry.

I cried.

That’s good! Generally speaking, so many books about fathers and sons and stuff are all kind of sappy. At any moment it veered in that direction — someone asked me in the Deadspin chat if it was more of a book that would appeal to Deadspin readers or Mitch Albom readers — and the fact that that question had to be asked made me very, very nervous.

Anytime there was sort of a moment when things were going towards cheap emotion, I tried to back off.

There was enough about chicks and booze and saying the F-word and stuff…

Yeah, I did my best to get chicks and boobs in there. I don’t know if I succeeded or not, but I tried.

Well I said booze, but boobs as well. I think that’s good.

Ah, yes. Booze! Lots of booze. Definitely more booze than boobs.

What was your dad’s reaction?

You know, I haven’t asked. I’m kind of hoping he doesn’t read it, actually. I’ve culled from other sources he’s 200 pages in. I’m hoping he stops. That’s the furthest dad has made it into a book, so that’s a start. I don’t think he’s read any of the other ones. If he has any opinions about it, I’m certain that he will not tell me and I’m certain that I don’t want to hear them.

Hey! You made sense of a Tim McCarver metaphor!

It didn’t make any sense! I was so glad just to be able to transcribe it, because I thought, ‘you know what, this needs to be seen somewhere.’ The medium of television is so fast and over so quickly, so I felt I had to write that down so future generations could study it.

Let’s talk baseball!

Sweet!

You mention that we are currently in the Golden Age of Baseball — -which may get you some hate faxes from old folks. I’ve had a consideration about this, after I read Moneyball, but do you think there lies a connection between Sabermetrics and baseball’s increased viewership? Like: Oh! Now I get Adam Dunn! This is so much more interesting to watch him walk 120 times! That’s why he’s on a roster! Do you think that bring different folks into the fold?

Partly. I think the actual experience of understanding Sabermetrics and the experience of watching a game are two dramatically different things. If anything, the success of baseball has come about because baseball is actually a much better corporation than people give it credit for being. One just assumes, because Bud Selig is in charge, they have no idea what’s going on. In actuality, baseball has grown so dramatically over the last ten years that they’re clearly doing something right over there, whether it’s advanced media or marketing to other countries. To me, that’s one of the major things. People say, ‘nobody watches baseball anymore!’ No, it’s just asshole, beefy, frattish Americans are watching football. Everyone else is still watching baseball.

Also, yeah, (Bob) Costas and those types of people miss the point. The idea of: ‘I’m sorry baseball is not exactly how it was when you were 13. I’m sorry the athletes are not actually mainlining Ovaltine.’ But baseball’s a better game now. And no offense to Mickey Mantle, but if he were playing today, with the skills and conditioning and preparation that he put together then, he wouldn’t be on a Major League roster. He may have had the talent to play baseball, but talent is just not enough anymore. Baseball has become much more of an evolutionary process. It’s a competitive, out-of-control, massive Darwinian fest, and that has led to some great baseball.

You’re going to get a lot of push-back from purists, with their steroid talk.

As if there was ever any sort of pure game in the past. You talk to these guys and some of them were drunk during the game, for crying out loud. Mickey Mantle was famous for talking about how he would drink during games. The game reflects a culture, and we are a culture now that pushes for constant production and results, work, work, go, go, go. The idea that you must succeed and get ahead, in a lot of ways that type of thing is going to lead to enhance a bunch of things.

[Awkward grunt from interviewer, as answer was going on FOREVER]

That type of thing is going to matter, but the idea that baseball was some sort of pure game just because middle-aged sportswriters happened to have been kids when that happened is bunk.

So Buehrle last year, Dallas Braden Sunday — -who’s going to be the next soft-tossing lefty that will throw the next perfect game?

[Without a pause] Jaime Garcia, baby! It’s happening. I freaking love that guy. The Dallas Braden story was so perfect in a lot of ways, not just for the Mother’s Day thing and the A-Rod thing, but typically baseball players have not referred to themselves by their area code. That’s more of a basketball and football type thing. I’m very pleased that a perfect game was thrown by a man that has his area code tattooed across his chest. That’s pretty awesome.

And that’s where we end —

It’s Stockton, CA for crying out loud!

Evan Hilbert really likes books about sports. Do you know any good new or forthcoming books about sports? Share, and we will spend six minutes with them too!

If Al B. Sure, also known as the man who gave our ears the New Jack Swing pinnacle “Nite And Day” has to go on TV to find love, is there hope for any of us in this crazy world? Probably not, right? I haven’t even mentioned that he’s doing so on a show that presents as its “prize” the Trump-groomed reality-villain prototype Omarosa! [Via]