17 – Raising the Roof in Seattle

Posted on September 9, 2012 by Dave Baldwin

RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 17

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog, one of the leading blogs west of the Willamette River. Here you will learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, and its 690 inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)—go about getting a Major League Baseball team (to be known as the Yachats Smelt). To learn about Yachats (“Where nature happens every day”), please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

In today’s post, Mr. Ashwagandha C. (Wumpy) Mugwump, Captain of the Smelt Roof Committee, interviews stadium dome expert Ms. Dominique Cupola.

Raising the Roof in Seattle
by Ashwagandha C. Mugwump

Last time we met we discussed the need for a roof over the heads of the Smelt and their fans. Today we will talk to one of the foremost stadium dome experts, Ms. Dominique Cupola, about how to get one.

Wumpy: Dominique, tell us how you got started in this fascinating field.

Dominique: I’ve been intrigued by round roofs since childhood, Wumpy. Other kids tacked photos of movie stars up in their rooms, but not me (except for Yul Brynner—I had a terrible crush on him—see Fig. 1). I plastered my room with pictures of famous domes like St. Peter’s Basilica and Hagia Sophia and the Taj Mahal. Domes were all I cared about. Even saying the word “dome” is restful, don’t you think? Sort of like calendula stew. Fortunately, I was able to get a scholarship to study domology in college.

Figure 1. Yul Brynner.

Wumpy: I imagine domology is quite complicated, isn’t it?

Dominique: Oh, it certainly is. The first thing we had to learn is the difference between convex and concave. Of course, if you don’t know that, you’ll never be a dome expert.

Wumpy: And what is the difference between convex and concave?

Dominique: Well, it depends on how you look at it.

Wumpy: Yes, I see. And after college?

Dominique: My first job was designing umbrellas, and then I moved on to yurts and hogans and gers (see Fig. 2). I became quite expert at them, but I wanted to do bigger things. When an opportunity to design a stadium dome came up I jumped at it.

Figure 2. A ger.

Wumpy: I know you’ve designed many stadium domes throughout the world, Dominique. What would be your recommendations for the Yachats Smelt?

Dominique: Oh, second hand is the only way to go. Do you realize how much a new dome depreciates as soon as the last strip of duct tape is in place? I would suggest looking for a nice, well-maintained dome owned by a little old lady, perhaps somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, not too far from Yachats.

Wumpy: I assume we would want one with still some time left on its warranty. Is there a specific one you have in mind?

Dominique: Yes, actually there’s a decent roof on the Safeco stadium in Seattle (see Fig. 3). It’s not owned by a little old lady and not technically a dome, but it’s retractable, has been kept up well, and has had minimal use. Probably has a little warranty time, too.

Figure 3. The Seattle roof Yachats has its eye on. Poised to unravel to the left.

Wumpy: So, let’s say we were to obtain that dome…er, roof. What would be the best way to get it down to Yachats?

Dominique: Well, there’s another dome expert who insists the Safeco roof could be rolled off the back of the stadium (the whole shebang is on wheels, you know), and with care it could be eased down so that it would be right side up. Then it could be pushed to a nearby waterway and flipped onto its back.

Wumpy: Sort of like a giant robotic tortoise shell?

Dominique: Exactly! A big crane could lift it and set it gently into the water. From there a tugboat could tow it to Puget Sound. Then it would be a straight-forward trip out to the Pacific and a short way down the coast to Yachats.

Wumpy: This sounds like a great idea!

Dominique: It is, up to this point, but then we come to a snag. Yachats has no harbor—just that shallow estuary (see Fig. 4). I don’t think there’s any way to get the roof onto the shore and then onto the stadium.

Figure 4. Yachats estuary being too shallow for seaworthy stadium roofs.

Wumpy: So what should we do?

Dominique: Well, the cheapest solution is to use a virtual dome. But if you have your heart set on the Seattle roof, you could take it apart up in Seattle and truck the parts down to Yachats. As simple as that. After all, part-by-part was how the thing was put on the Seattle stadium in the first place. If all the pieces are carefully numbered, putting it back together will be a snap. Sort of like London Bridge except not nearly as British.

Wumpy: Wow! That does sound like a simple solution. I don’t know why we hadn’t thought of that.

Dominique: Well, that’s why you want a certified dome expert, isn’t it? You’d be amazed at the messes amateurs get themselves into—upside-down domes, inside-out domes, sometimes they put them on backwards…

Wumpy: We’re lucky we have you to guide us, Dominique.

Next time: You wouldn’t think so, but procuring the Seattle roof and installing it in Yachats isn’t a piece of cake. Shocking obstacles pop up, as we shall see next time.

NOTE: We have yet to hear from George Clooney, J. Maarten Troost, or Connie Willis regarding the opportunity to contribute to this blog. Until we do, the way is clear for YOU to write a posting, perhaps an award-winning posting, for Rubbery Shrubbery. Of course, tremendous prestige would follow. We would welcome your contribution. But it better be good! We’re not kidding!

NOTE AGAIN: Dave Baldwin and Eric Sallee point out once again that this blog is a work of fiction. No politicians or hedge fund managers, living or imaginary, were harmed during the writing of Rubbery Shrubbery. (Our attorney directed us to add this dodge.)

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16 – Not That We’re a Bunch of Squall Babies

Posted on September 2, 2012 by Dave Baldwin

RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 16

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog, one of the leading blogs west of the Willamette River. Here you will learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, and its 690 inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns) or Yahotties (yah-HOT-tees)—go about getting a Major League Baseball team (to be known as the Yachats Smelt). To learn about Yachats, please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

In today’s post, Mr. Ashwagandha C. Mugwump (known locally as “Wumpy”) describes for us the beehive-like activity of the Roof Committee. Wumpy is captain of this committee.

Not That We’re a Bunch of Squall Babies
by Ashwagandha C. Mugwump

The Pacific Northwest is noted for being moist, especially Yachats. In fact, Yachats is rainier than any other city hosting a major league baseball team. (Average annual rainfall for Yachats is 69.2 inches, Miami’s average is about 58 in., and Atlanta’s is about 55 in.)

Despite these drenchings Yachatians aren’t a bunch of squall babies, running for cover at the first sign of deluge. Far from it. Yachatians are a robust breed, laughing in the face of horizontal rain and hail.

Although Yachatians don’t mind watching a ballgame in a two-hour downpour, they are sensitive to the preferences of non-Yachatians. Smelt players, for example, will be coming from far corners of the globe, where they always played in ideal conditions. Also, visitors to Yachats watching a Smelt game will wish to stay dry throughout.

With this in mind the Smelt went looking for ways to keep the weather away and figured to save money by hiring one of the Sasquatch sorcerers. They’re adept at magical incantations to shoo storm clouds. In fact, they originated the now famous and widely-used spell “Rain, rain, go away / Come again another day,” which prevents cumulonimbus activity over Sasquatch picnics, but with an added safeguard against bringing on a drought (i.e., it keeps the rain away only for a while).

We talked to Roderick P. Roderick, President of the Sasquatch Order of Sorcerers (SOS), about the possibility of signing one of its members to a long term contract. I wasn’t daunted a bit in meeting his huge, hairy personage. He sat with his enormous feet propped up on his desk, smoking a cigar.

Wumpy: Understand, Mr. Roderick, the Smelt would need clear skies only in the baseball season, April through September, and then only when the Smelt are playing home games. Can we arrange to hire a sorcerer seasonal and part-time?

Mr. Roderick (chuckling): Hah! Part-time? You’ve got to be kidding! None of our experienced sorcerers work under those conditions. They’ll sign only multi-year, seven figure contracts. If you aren’t willing to make a serious commitment to dryness, you need to look elsewhere.

Wumpy (choking): Seven figures?

Mr. Roderick (smugly): Hey, our services are top of the line. You could pay less but you’d have to settle for just a witch or wizard, and second rate at that. You get the hocus pocus you pay for.

So we decided to look elsewhere. We considered the new proton-smashing-and-mirrors technology that’s been developed at Cannibal Laboratories up on Cannibal Mountain, but we would have to use a beta version and then there’s that safety issue.

That leaves us with the stadium dome idea (which I had suggested early on, you’ll remember). This has been tried and proven effective in almost all cases (well…there were Minneapolis and Vancouver, BC, but those were unfortunate outliers).

In fact, people have been kicking around the domed stadium concept for many millennia. At least one professional expert believes that the Roman Coliseum was domed originally (a rare photo of the Coliseum with its dome is shown in Fig. 1). An ancient architectural blueprint has been found that indicates a bright, flashing sign reading, “Luigi Polo’s Primo Pizza Coliseum” was planned for the façade of the building, but despite many attempts, the Romans were unable to discover neon.

Figure 1. Rare photo of the Roman Coliseum wearing its dome.

Apparently, during one of their many sackings of Rome, the Visigoths or Vandals or both lifted the dome and took it home, wherever that might be. Later, the quadruple-decked chariot parking structure that was adjacent to the Coliseum was completely destroyed by the Vikings and again the very next day by the Kickapoos, so that nothing of it is left.

But other domed stadiums have had happier days—they’ve flourished in towns such as Fargo, Pocatello, Eagar, and Gelsenkirchen. Even the ill-fated Metrodome, an inflatable and suddenly deflatable plastic structure, has had a joyous outcome, being turned into many thousands of lunch baggies.

That said, we have our eye on one domed stadium in particular. We’ll tell you our cunning plan next time.

Next time: Cunning plans don’t come along every day, so you’ll want to read about this one.

NOTE: Ron Howard, Patrick F. McManus, and Christopher Moore are just three of the many real celebrities who have not yet offered to contribute to this blog. If you are one of these, please let us know at the bottom of this page. Or if you are an exceptional writer, crazy about baseball or Yachats, and have some time on your hands, please let us know that, too. We are actively seeking REAL TALENT who would like to pitch in on the writing of this blog. It could change your life.

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin want to point out that this blog is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual boojums or snarks, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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15 – The Board Goes to Pieces

Posted on August 27, 2012 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 15

You’ve come upon the Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog, one of the world’s more popular on-line publications. It will tell you how the Oregon village of Yachats (YAH-hots) and its citizens—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)—go about turning the Yachats Smelt into a Major League Baseball team. Each episode moves us down the road toward the big leagues. To learn about Yachats, “Home of the World’s Largest Ocean,” please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

For this post, Ms. Isabel Stackhollow continues telling about the second Yachats Smelt Board of Directors meeting held on the Yachats Baseball Field.

The Board Goes to Pieces
by Isabel Stackhollow

Under Annabella Kowalski’s direction, the Board of Directors meeting was humming along in the outfield (see Figure 1). She had ferreted out Ashwagandha C. “Wumpy” Mugwump who once attended a major league baseball game in Seattle. Wumpy reported the stadium there had a roof—one that both opens and closes—and suggested this would be a good addition to Yachats, covering the whole village, shutting out annoying winter rains. Visions of dry tourists danced through directors’ heads as they imagined having one of their very own!

Figure 1. Deep in center field at the Yachats Baseball Field.

Then Annabella turned to the large whiteboard standing behind her. Markers of red and blue and ochre were lying in the tray. As fast as her hand could write, she partitioned the Board of Directors into a brilliant mosaic of red, blue, and ochre committees. Committees for stadium and roof and playing field. For uniforms and cheerleaders.

Someone shouted, “We’ll need players,” and Annabella scribbled “Player Committee.” Another shouted, “We’ll need scouts to find those players.” Then, “How about a farm system?” “And a spring training site.” “And an enormous, quantum-powered, nerve-shattering, electro whocarnio flooks scoreboard with spectacular five-dimensional fireworks.”

As each committee was named, Annabella assigned a captain to it. Soon the whiteboard was filled. Then the captains used the traditional hand-over-hand-up-the-bat-to-the-knob method to choose up sides. (After several tries failed, Annabella had to disqualify Big Bruno Truncheon.) Before you could say Ashwagandha C. Mugwump all committee assignments had been made.

With that, the meeting adjourned and not a moment too soon—fifteen minutes is a long time to go without electronic devices or restrooms. Besides, the mocking twitters of the crows were beginning to get on everyone’s nerves.

“And what happened to Wumpy?” you might ask. Named Captain of the Roof Committee, that’s what. After the meeting ended, after other directors headed home, he stood there in center field, imagining the roof above him, sheltering the field, the swamp, the whole village and more.

He imagined the magnificent roof wide open to allow brilliant sunlight to pour down on the La-De-Da Parade (July 4th). He imagined the great roof closed tightly in December, rain pitter-pattering upon it and strings of bright holiday lights draped and dangling from the rafters. Then he imagined a gigantic marble statue (see Figure 2) of Ashwagandha C. Mugwump standing out on the headlands of the state park, with a brass plaque reading “Wumpy the Great, Hero of the Yachatian Roof.” Wumpy’s spirits soared.

Then Wumpy fell into the swamp in center field.

Figure 2. Statue of Wumpy the Great, as envisioned by Wumpy.

Next time: Will the Yachatian Roof come to pass?

NOTE: If you happen to know a red hot celebrity who likes to write…say, Carol Burnett or X.J. Kennedy or Ivan Doig, please let us know at the bottom of this page. Or if you happen to be any kind of celebrity at all, hot or otherwise, please let us know that, too. We are seeking BIG NAMES or medium-sized names who want to pitch in on writing this blog.

NOTE AGAIN: Dave Baldwin and Eric Sallee want you to know that Drs. Burnett, Kennedy, and Doig have not contributed to this blog. At least, not yet.

NOTE ONE MORE TIME: The Rubbery Shrubbery blog will be published once a week (each Monday) beginning this week. Please tell your friends.

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14 – Annabella’s Leadership Style Persists

Posted on August 23, 2012 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 14

This is the award-winning Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog. It describes the adventures of the Oregon village of Yachats (YAH-hots) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns) or Yahotties (yah-HOT-tees)—as they work to obtain a Major League Baseball team named the Yachats Smelt. Each episode tells more about this era in the town’s history. To learn about Yachats, please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

For this post, Ms. Isabel Stackhollow again will bless us with her hard-hitting journalistic skills. She continues telling about the crucial Yachats Smelt Board of Directors meeting held at the Yachats Baseball Field.

Annabella’s Leadership Style Persists
by Isabel Stackhollow

When last we saw the Smelt Board of Directors they were standing in center field of the Yachats Baseball Field under the scrutiny of their self-appointed leader, Annabella Kowalski. They were standing because Annabella was sure that would keep the meeting short.

In a shower of glorious sunshine, Annabella started the meeting by announcing the first item on the agenda was to determine where the Smelt would play their games. “First, let me see the hands of all those who have seen a real major league game in person.”

Only one hand shot up. Well, it started to shoot up…then, as it became apparent it was going to be alone up there, its owner pretended it wasn’t a true component of his personal self, and the hand changed its mind. But, too late! Annabella had already spotted it.

The hand in this case was the right one belonging to Ashwagandha C. Mugwump. (His middle name is a sore spot with Mr. Mugwump. Other children teased him about it when he was a child. You know how cruel kids can be about a name like Charles or any other name in the middle.) We all call him “Wumpy.”

Wumpy is a man brimming with self-contradiction, confusion, and coffee—a typical semi-retired economist. “So, Wumpy, you’ve seen an actual major league baseball game?” Annabella asked rhetorically. “Please come up front and tell us about it.”

“Well, it was only the Mariners playing the Royals,” Wumpy hesitated. “That probably doesn’t even count, huh?”

“Oh, of course it does,” Annabella encouraged. “It will be good to hear how baseball is played in the UK.”

Whereupon, Wumpy was prompted and prodded by board members until he was standing alongside Annabella, dry-mouthed and wobbly. He gave Annabella a look full of questions.

“Why don’t you tell us about the place where they played the game?” urged Annabella.

With that Wumpy’s face lighted up, which was certainly something to see. He enthused. “They had a stadium with a roof that opened and closed.”

“Both?” Annabella prompted.

“You bet,” Wumpy replied, using a favorite expression of economists. “As I was sitting there staring up, I was thinking in italics how cool would it be to have this roof in Yachats—you know, where we could open it up for sunshine during the summer and close it up to keep out the rain in the winter. That roof was huge; I mean it would cover all of Yachats. Think what a boon it would be to our winter tourist business!” Wumpy becomes very vocal when he’s enthused. (Figure 1 shows the roof that Wumpy was enthused about.)

Figure 1. Seattle's Safeco Field in the foreground with Yachats's roof perched atop it.

“Murmur murmur murmur!” the directors responded. Obviously, they had all figured out the area of a roof that would cover Yachats, and they were calculating the storm runoff rate of such a roof, although a few were stumbling dealing with differential equations without an afternoon nap.

“What a splendid idea!” Annabella reciprocated, gushing for them all. “Why, we would rival the Riviera and Waikiki for luring super-rich tourists, and that’s the only kind these days. The structure would pay for itself in no time.”

“Exactly what I thought. Mind you, I haven’t actually done the numbers, but it just makes sense, doesn’t it?”

But does it make sense? What if Seattle doesn’t want to sell their roof? What if Fairbanks and Murmansk decide they want roofs, too—would they then become winter tourist Meccas and drain frosty tourist dollars away from Yachats? And there are all those homeless people to consider—are they still classified as homeless if they have a roof over their heads? As you see, there’s no situation so simple that it can’t be made confusing with just a little thought.

Next time: The Smelt Board of Directors concentrates on solving the Seattle Mariners roof migration problem, as well as all the other Smelt problems. Does the roof come with the rest of the stadium as a set? And if push comes to shove and we can’t get Seattle’s roof, can a roof be built from scratch without expending a lot of the village’s resources?

NOTE: Please go to “Leave a Reply” at the bottom of this page to offer valuable comments and suggestions regarding the Seattle roof situation (and please don’t suggest we swipe the roof some moonless night). We probably won’t publish any of your advice, but we bet we’ll get a lot of laughs.

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin are giddy with excitement at seeing their names appear in print at the end of each post of the Rubbery Shrubbery blog. Enough is enough, however. The RS blog is now actively seeking famous celebrities to make guest appearances as writers of this epic chronicle. Candidates must have a good sense of humor and an impressive knowledge of baseball or vice versa. If any of you happen to know the phone number of Susan Sarandon and/or Billy Crystal, please contact us immediately.

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13 – Annabella’s Leadership Style

Posted on August 19, 2012 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 13

You are entering the world of the Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog. Here you’ll learn how the Oregon coastal village of Yachats (YAH-hots) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns) or Yahotties (yah-HOT-tees)—obtain a Major League Baseball team. Each episode tells a bit more about this era in the town’s history. To learn about Yachats, please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Harrison Grutch, who has written nearly every RS post since this blog was born, will be taking a little break now, well-earned or not. In his stead we have Ms. Isabel Stackhollow, celebrated author of the steamy bestselling novel, Festering Hugs and Turbulent Kisses. Having never seen a baseball game, Ms. Stackhollow will have a new, creative slant on things.

Annabella’s Leadership Style
by Isabel Stackhollow

Only three days after the Yachats Smelt were spawned, the Smelt Board of Directors held their first meeting. Well, actually their first was an impromptu muddle in the middle of the Yachats Post Office parking lot. But this was the first official meeting—planned, with agenda and suitable venue.

Since 82 of the 83 directors were co-chairpersons, someone needed to step up and take charge, and that would be Annabella Kowalski, wife of Zeke Kowalski (controversial werewolf hypnotist) and great granddaughter of Edsel Kowalski, the inventor of the Swiss Army toothpick (complete with all equipment needed for dental surgery). No doubt you’ve surmised Annabella’s maiden name was also Kowalski. Oddly enough, she is descended from a long line of women whose maiden names were Kowalski.

Despite that, Annabella was needle-sharp, the perfect person to lead the meeting. She decided to hold it at the Yachats Baseball Field, as she surmised it was the most likely future home of the Smelt.

At this point we should show you a few views of the current baseball field. Please direct your attention to Figure 1 which shows you the whole playing field as seen from the grandstand (note that, although you can’t see it in the photo, the Pacific Ocean begins soon after the magnificent forest in the outfield).

Figure 1. The Yachats Baseball Field -- the whole shebang

Figure 2 depicts the current grandstand (admittedly, the seating capacity isn’t quite up to snuff).

Figure 2. The Yachats Baseball Field -- the current grandstand.

Figure 3 gives you an excellent view of the playing field as the center fielder would see it (note the small incursion of the wetlands park in the foreground). No doubt a few changes will be needed if major league baseball is to be enjoyed on this field, but expenses can be minimized by some workarounds.

Figure 3. The Yachats Baseball Field -- the view from center field.

In viewing these photos the reader might think incorrectly that the Yachats Baseball Field is too small to host major league baseball. Your misconception is due to a mysterious optical illusion illustrated in Figures 4 and 5. Figure 4 presents this illusion in regards to area. The square and the circle appear to be exactly the same size, but your eyes have been deceived by the arrows—the square actually is larger than the circle. You can see how easily the eyes can be fooled.

Now take a look at Figure 5 where we have an optical illusion pertaining to distance. If you think the line on the left is longer than the line on the right, your eyes have been bamboozled once again—as they were when you viewed the photos of the Yachats Baseball Field. (Oddly enough, the illusion in Figure 5 is exactly the same when the figure is inverted and same again when viewed in Albuquerque.)

Now that your eyes have been set right about all this, look again at the photos and you will see that the field is plenty large enough for the big leagues.

As Annabella assembled her Board of Directors in center field of Fig. 3, she issued her first edict, requiring all attendees to stand throughout the meeting. “It shortens meetings and keeps people from falling asleep,” she replied when I asked her about this. “If only I could convince them to stand on one foot…”

It was a perfect day for the meeting. The sun was shining brightly, the sea breeze was set at the right volume, and the Steller’s jays were twittering in the spruces. And Big Bruno Truncheon had carried out a huge whiteboard and set it in the field exactly where Annabella directed him or her to. (Big Bruno is hired by the city to locate and relocate things. He or she is in large part Sasquatch—the city is an equal opportunity employer.)

Annabella could feel the essence of avidity and gumption seeping and surging as she looked out at her directors who stood at the ready—a field full of bodies full of ancient muscles used as often as the quadratic equation. This was destined to be a very short meeting.

Next time: The Smelt Board of Directors get down to business and whiz through amazing accomplishments in a very short meeting. This will come to be known forever in board meeting annals as the “Amazing Smelt Meeting.” And perhaps we’ll see what can be done about that knitting club, too.

NOTE: Please go to “Leave a Reply” at the bottom of this page to send a message to the phantom-like creatures who hammer out this blog. They’ll publish the best of the comments and suggestions on the day the Yachats Smelt play their first World Series game.

NOTE AGAIN: Dave Baldwin and Eric Sallee are anything but phantom-like. If you think they write the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, you have another think coming. In fact, we hope you have another think coming anyway.

Squiggles Peru, Yachats Smelt right fielder.

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12 – About the Smelt

Posted on August 16, 2012 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 12

This is the popular Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog where you will learn of the plans of the Oregon coastal village of Yachats (YAH-hots) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns) or Yahotties (yah-HOT-tees)—to obtain a Major League Baseball team. Each episode tells more about this era in the town’s history. To learn about Yachats, please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Harrison Grutch, a journalist of the old school, joins us again, this time to give us background information about the smelt, an honorable fish recently chosen as the mascot and nickname of the up and coming Yachats baseball team.

About the Smelt
by Harrison Grutch

If you’ve been following the RS blog, you might well be asking, “Why was the smelt chosen to represent the Yachats team?” Why, indeed. So, I decided to put that question to the founding mothers and father of the Yachats Smelt—Bebe Broadbent, Phyllicida Thronk, and Big Forbes Crossbowe.

I found the trio sipping Yachatian lattes at the Green Salmon Café. It was early in the morning and the aroma of freshly baked sweet rolls and muffins wafted over the casual tables. The café was crowded and I was lucky to find a chair available. I carried it to the table of my quarry and asked my question.

Phyllicida was first to respond. “The smelt is a fish long admired for its sleek beauty, its silvery sheen, and its gracefulness, especially in water. A highly social fish with exquisite manners. Certainly a proper role model for other seafaring creatures.”

Bebe was quick to add, “Some have called the smelt the Esther Williams of the fish world.”

Phyllicida continued, “It’s long been treasured by royalty—for example, historians sometimes refer to Queen Elizabeth I of England as the ‘Smelt Queen.’ And the smelt is a traditional favorite for royal aquariums and for ponds in the magnificent gardens of the great certified public accountants of Europe.”

Bebe joined in again. “The smelt is so highly valued that smelt smuggling has been a problem for centuries—the rare, exotic species bring a pretty penny and many ugly ones, too. Premeditated smelt smuggling is still a hanging offense in Texas, especially if you’re black.”

Forbes, a former teacher, then brought up the relationship between smelt and baseball in his usual academic manner. “It’s certainly appropriate to have a baseball team named the ‘Smelt.’ In fact, just like baseball, in some cultures the smelt is worshiped as one of their major false gods. In the languages of many cultures the word ‘smelt’ is synonymous with ‘baseball.’ They might say something like, ‘I’ll go home and get my bat and smelt.’ In one ancient anthropological monograph carved in onyx there’s a description of a baseball-like game played between rival villages as a substitute for war. Apparently, a batter would hit a dead smelt with a canoe paddle and a base runner was out if he was slapped in the face with the fish. It seemed to satisfy all of the requisites and benefits of war.”

I should add that the encyclopedia will tell you that smelt are found all over both the Pacific and Atlantic. Our local smelt are about seven inches long and…well, here’s a picture of one in Figure 1. This is the Rainbow Smelt, Osmerus mordax, and is taken from an illustration in the Wikimedia Commons. In Figure 2 we see a photo (from Wikipedia) showing a man attempting smelt dipping without success.

Figure 1. The spectacular Yachatian smelt, Osmerus mordax. (From Wikimedia Commons)

When I mentioned the photo of the smelt dipper, my three interviewees went all teary eyed and sniffly. “Smelt dipping” brought back memories of the annual Yachats Smelt Fry, you see. I gingerly broached the topic. “Can any of you tell me about the annual Yachats Smelt Fry without going all liquid on me?”

Phyllicida was the driest of the trio. “Well, for many years the Smelt Sands State Park [on the north edge of Yachats] had great numbers of smelt coming there for their spawning ritual. When they did, Yachatians would dip them up with their nets, cook them, and eat them.” She blew her nose.

Apparently, the smelt grew tired of this tradition and wised up at last. Currently they are pretending to be extremely extinct. This strategy has worked well for them because the one necessary and sufficient component of a smelt fry is the smelt. Yachatians, forgetting the culinary delight of a mouthful of fish grease, have found other pastimes to occupy their minds, such as the annual Yachats Fish Fry (fish not being smelt in this case). But the smelt still occupy a soft spot in the hearts of Yachatians. In fact, the smelt occupy much of the whole circulatory system of some Yachatians.

And what are the consequences of killing all those smelt? We hear stories of huge shoals of ghostly smelt haunting the Pacific waters. Although almost no one believes these tales, the perplexed smelt dipper in Figure 2 has just attempted dipping smelt and watched them swim right through the netting, as you can see.

Figure 2. Smelt dipper dipping. (From Wikipedia)

Despite their checkered past, smelt still hold a grand and glorious place in the culture of our nation, symbolizing what we love most about America. Reason enough for us to honor and protect this delightful little fish. And besides, they weren’t all that tasty.

Next time: The Smelt Board of Directors must tackle the really hard questions sooner or later, and next time we’ll take you to their next meeting and watch them get down to business.

NOTE: Please go to “Leave a Reply” at the bottom of this page to offer suggestions for future postings to this blog. The RS blogmaster will consider each one carefully, and who knows? Your suggestion might be used for an RS episode.

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin have offered a great many suggestions for the Rubbery Shrubbery blog in the past. As they reach deeper and deeper into the idea barrel, however, it becomes increasingly evident that this blog needs to find celebrity guest contributors fast. If your neighbor’s neighbor or your best friend’s best friend is a famous celebrity (say, Woody Allen or Kevin Kline), please let us know immediately. That’s the kind of celebrity guest contributor we are looking for.

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11 – The Rich Are Different

Posted on August 13, 2012 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 11

The Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog, below, will tell you how the Oregon coastal haven of Yachats (YAH-hots) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns) or Yahotties (yah-HOT-tees)—work to persuade a Major League Baseball team to move to Yachats and become the Smelt. To learn about Yachats, please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Big Forbes Crossbowe is our blogger today. He will report on an exciting new near development in the Smelt world.

The Rich Are Different
by Big Forbes Crossbowe

If you are like most Americans and haven’t read a newspaper or magazine for ages, you aren’t aware of the groundswell of interest growing across this great land. And much of it is directed towards the Yachats Smelt baseball team. I mean, the news media just can’t get enough of the Smelt story.

Thus, it was inevitable that we on the Smelt board would start getting phone calls and Western Union telegrams from people in Nigeria and elsewhere anxious to learn more about the Smelt phenomenon.

Just the other day I was sitting at my mahogany desk in the Smelt office suite overlooking the Yachats skyline, studying my nails, when what to my wondering eyes should appear at the doorway but a sturdily proportioned gentleman, sulfur-flavored cigar in teeth, bedecked in a $3,500 suit, and trailed by a fleet of valets. I knew in a moment it must be Ebenezer Buckingham, rich-yet-empathetic billionaire from Houston, Palm Springs, and Greenwich, CT.

Little did I expect to get a visit from Mr. Buckingham. Taken aback, I leaped to my feet, spilling my nails. But Mr. Buckingham was hardly through the door before he got right down to business. “I’m going to buy this Smelt team of yours, son. How much do you want for it? I assume you’ll take a check.”

I was stunned and speechless. So I bought time by blowing my nose.

Consequently, Mr. Buckingham explained his situation. “You see, my doctor said I need more exercise. A lot more. He suggested I get involved in sports. So I decided to become a sportsman—I reckon that should do the trick. Maybe an award-winning sportsman. I can see myself putting a big ‘Sportsman of the Year’ trophy right next to the St. Bernard on the mantelpiece at my Alpine chalet.”

He paused a moment to envision his shiny new prize. I couldn’t help but admire it, too.

Mr. Buckingham shook himself out of his reverie and continued. “Well, the quickest way to be a sportsman is to buy a sports team, I figure. But there aren’t a lot of them available right now. I had a platoon of servants scouring the ads in magazines like Town and Empire, but they had no luck. Then one of my valets—I’ve forgotten which one—told me he saw on the news that you have a new team here in Yachats. Sounds like what I’m looking for.”

Of course, I said nothing but blew my nose again.

And Mr. Buckingham replied, “Nasty cold you have there, son. Either that or you’re worried about my credit rating, right? Well, shucks, I have fortunes stashed away in all of Europe and most of Greenland. Why, with what I have in Austria I could buy Hungary. I even have fortunes stashed away here in the states.”

Quick as a wink I realized what was going on. “Now look here, Mr. Buckingham, you might think you can have your way with us by just waving a lot of fortunes under our noses, but I’ll have you know we didn’t start this team with the idea of making money. Yachats wants a baseball team just for the fun of it.”

Now it was Mr. Buckingham’s turn to be taken aback. “Umm. Baseball just for the fun of it,” he mused. “Never thought of baseball as being played for fun. Where’s the testosterone in that?”

I consolidated. “Well, people play it just for fun and people watch it just for fun. With everyone enjoying it, there isn’t a need for fortunes or hormones.”

Mr. Buckingham handed his checkbooks back to his valet (I don’t know which one) and shook his head. “I guess I’ll have to look for something else to buy—say a stable of racehorses. Or better yet a polo team in Del Mar or Palm Beach where they appreciate fortunes waved under their noses.”

As Mr. Buckingham and party streamed out the door, I tried to be helpful by suggesting, “You might try rugby!”

But in the several nights since this event my dreams have been agitated. Visions of fortunes pluck at my brain strings. I fear I will be haunted forever. Curse you, Mr. Buckingham!

[Legal disclaimer: No billionaires were harmed during the making of this blog.]

Next time: The smelt is a majestic and magnificent creature, so we’ll consider whether the Yachats baseball team can possibly live up to its nickname.

NOTE: Please go to “Leave a Reply” at the bottom of this page to communicate with the shy nerds in deep denial who write this blog. We’ll publish selected comments on the day the Yachats Smelt win the World Series. If you see your comment published before then, you’ll know you wrote an exceptionally good comment.

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin are not shy, nerdish, or in denial. Therefore, they don’t write the Rubbery Shrubbery blog. QED

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9 – The Day After the Day After

Posted on August 6, 2012 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 9

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog where you’ll learn how the Oregon coastal resort of Yachats (YAH-hots) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns) or Yahotties (yah-HOT-tees)—latch onto a Major League Baseball team. Each episode tells a little more about this era in the town’s history. To learn about Yachats, please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Once again we’re proud to have Harrison Grutch back to write today’s blog about the newly nicknamed Yachats Smelt baseball team. Here, he describes events two days after the selection of that Smelt nickname and the celebration that followed.

The Day After the Day After
by Harrison Grutch

If one supposes the earth were spherical or even cylindrical, the seam that stitches the Far East to the Far West would be found just to the left of downtown Yachats. Heidi’s Italian Specialties Café looks out across fields of seagulls standing in the Yachats estuary which would be, I suppose, a small rip in the stitching of the world. Always a popular meeting place, Heidi’s has been a pepper pot of epiphanies and joys ever since the Yachats Smelt were spawned.

Case in point: the day after the first meeting of the Yachats Smelt Board of Directors in the Yachats Post Office parking lot, Forbes Crossbowe, Phyllicida Thronk, and Bebe Broadbent were in the midst of those very same epiphanies and joys, having a leisurely lunch at Heidi’s. The aromas of sausages and marinara sauce meandered through the café seeking nostrils. Figure 1 shows Heidi’s Café.

Figure 1. Heidi's Cafe is seen just to the right of the Yachats Post Office parking lot from Cape Perpetua. (Photo by Elizabeth Gates.)

On Heidi’s menu the Baseball Special was Smelt Rigatoni, with shrimp substituted for smelt because it seemed somehow sacrilegious to be eating the brand new mascot of the local baseball team. Forbes was about to consume his first forkful.

When suddenly gaunt, gangly Percival “The Percy” Fink-Nottle, scion of the grand and rich Fink and Nottle families and author of the startling best selling 101 Things to Do with an Opposable Thumb, burst through the restaurant’s door, with fiery eyes, a nose like a lethal weapon, and something on his mind. His abrupt entrance was neither Finky nor Nottlish.

Though appropriately startled, Phyllicida, etc., were much too hungry to let a Fink-Nottle deter them from lunch. “Here comes The Percy,” Forbes noted through a mouthful of mascotless rigatoni.

Upon spotting them, The Percy charged their table. “I felt compelled by some unexplained force to rush over to talk to you,” he blurted.

The trio exchanged knowing glances. Phyllicida set down her tea cup and addressed the intrusion. “Was this a determined, no-nonsense kind of compelling?” The Percy nodded. Phyllicida smiled. “It’s just a baseball enchantment with time on its hands. So, pull up a chair and tell us what’s on your mind, but don’t expect us to buy you lunch.”

“Okay. It’s nothing urgent, really. In fact, I wouldn’t have bothered you if it hadn’t been for that darn enchantment. Anyway, I just wondered if I could be on the Smelt Board of Directors, that’s all. That is, if it doesn’t cost anything. I’d work hard and wouldn’t be any trouble and I’d clean up after myself…”

Bebe laughed. “Of course you can be a director, and don’t worry—it’s free,” she cooed. “We have nearly a hundred now, but you’ll be our first scion. I assume you’d like to be a co-chairperson, too? Everybody does.”

“Nah. Don’t want the responsibility. I’ll be happy just being on the Board. That would be fun.”

Forbes shook his head in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be…you’re the first director who doesn’t want to be a co-chairperson. I suppose it won’t hurt to have one non-co-chairperson.”

Then, without warning, lovely Angelita MacAvity, author of the seasonal classic, Frankincense Pranks for Christmas, burst through the restaurant’s door, an intense look upon her face. Immediately she spotted the baseball bunch, and with a fling of her auburn hair, she raced the seven-and-a-half feet to its table. “I need to tell you something,” she gasped.

“I bet you were compelled by an enigmatic force to seek us out,” Forbes suggested.

“Yeah, compelled, but I want to tell you about this eerie dream I had last night.” Of course the word “eerie” grabbed their attentions like a bowl of chocolate ice cream with those little sprinkled things on top.

“Pull up a chair and bounce this eerie dream off us,” chirped Bebe.

“Well, God spoke to me in this dream and said, in a big booming voice, ‘I DECREE THAT YACHATS SHALL HAVE A MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL TEAM AND THOU SHALT NAME IT THE YACHATS SMELT.’ I didn’t know whether He was joking or not, I never can tell with Him, so I replied, ‘Are you kidding, Your Highness?’ And He boomed, ‘DO YOU SEE EVEN A HINT OF A TWINKLE IN MY EYE?’ So I pointed out in the most diplomatic way possible that the other major league teams would have to agree to let Yachats play, and those teams are all sticks-in-the-mud. And he began to see my point. ‘WELL, MAYBE YOU’RE RIGHT…UM…HEY, I’VE GOT IT…THE YACHATS KNITTING CLUB. YEAH, THAT’S IT. I DECREE ONE OF THOSE INSTEAD. NO, WAIT…PLEASE MAKE THAT, I SUGGEST A KNITTING CLUB. DON’T WANT TO COME OFF AS HEAVY-HANDED. THANKS.’ And then I woke up from all that booming.” Angelita sat expectant.

Phyllicida, Bebe, etc., were stunned. “I’ve never known God to say ‘please’ or ‘thanks’ before,” said Forbes. “By the way, you do God’s booming voice very well.”

“Why, thank you! I was afraid I didn’t get the celestial accent quite right,” blushed Angelita.

Everyone sat silently thinking for many moments until The Percy broke out, “Nah, knitting’s even more boring than soccer!” The others all agreed, of course, and cheerfully began imagining uniform designs for the Smelt.

Angelita was still betwixt, however. She expressed her concern that God might be a whole lot disappointed if He doesn’t get His knitting club. We’ll see what can be done.

Next time: We’ll be right back at Heidi’s to be startled by a whole new situation in the growth of this baseball team. And we’ll keep you abreast of news about that knitting club.

NOTE: Please go to “Leave a Reply” at the bottom of this page if, and only if, you’d like to get something of a Smelt nature off your chest. We’ll publish all worthy comments on the day the Yachats Smelt play their first major league game.

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin can hardly wait to read the next episode of the award-winning Rubbery Shrubbery blog.

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8 – The Aftermath

Posted on August 2, 2012 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 8

This is the official Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog where you can learn of the efforts of the Oregon seacoast town of Yachats (YAH-hots) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns), or sometimes Yahotties (yah-HOT-tees)—to get themselves a Major League Baseball team (any team will do). Each episode tells a little more about this era in the town’s history. To learn about Yachats, please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Various writers have taken on the task of writing this blog. Today’s entry is written again by Harrison Grutch. By now, you all know Harrison. And you know that the Yachats baseball team will be called the Smelt. The announcement that we are Smelt resulted in a huge celebration in Yachats. In today’s post Harrison continues describing the morning after.

The Aftermath
by Harrison Grutch

The morning after the great Yachats Smeltfest, Diego McHuguenot was rushing to the Green Salmon Café to enjoy a hearty breakfast when, without warning, a strange force spun him around and marched him with adverbs toward the Yachats Post Office. Diego was irked at this sudden turn of events because he had been looking forward to cinnamon rolls and calendula stew, but when fiddled by an esoteric enigma, what’s a guy to do?

Not that a trip to the Yachats Post Office parking lot is an unpleasant experience. Far from it! This parking lot was chosen as one of the ten best post office parking lots in Oregon by Car and Kayak Magazine. It has been written up in such periodicals as Diagonal Digest and Asphalt Aesthetics Today. A plaque mounted in one corner of the lot commemorates its achievements. Thus, Diego was anticipating a good time. Figure 1 shows the Yachats Post Office parking lot.

Figure 1. Yachats Post Office parking lot, as seen from summit of Cape Perpetua. (Photo by Elizabeth Gates.)

But as Diego approached the Post Office he saw a multitude milling about the parking lot, very like zombies at a cocktail party. They numbered several dozen, including a Bulgarian and a striking lady from the Solomon Islands.

“Little-Orphan-Annie eyes,” thought Diego. “A tell-tale sign of sleep deprivation. Obviously they’re dazed from celebrating all night.”

True enough, yet these automatons had blossomed into a magnificent post-hoopla array of color—adorned in red and yellow and blue, dusted with silver and gold confetti, and brandishing party blowouts and crepe streamers.

Diego looked for anyone who was more than half conscious, anyone who appeared to have slept last night. He just wanted someone who could carry on a conversation.

Then Diego spotted Fred Knordobb, his old grade school chum. (Fred had lived up to early expectations by writing the shocking best seller Running in a Wheel: Living Vicariously through Your Hamster.) Fred, who was wide awake, greeted him with, “Hey, glad to see you could make it to the first impromptu Smelt Board meeting. You must be one of the directors.”

“How do you know I’m a director?” Diego said.

“The enchantment wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t,” Fred explained.

“I guess you’re right. I didn’t just happen to show up,” Diego said with a slight huff. “I was pushed and pulled here by that enigmatic force. So, it was some sort of magical spell, then?”

“I prefer to call it an enchantment. Spell could be wicked or evil, but we know this enchantment is trying to do good stuff. It’s definitely a Smelt ally.”

“Well, yes, but what good can come of bringing this group together today? Look at them! That one is being challenged by the curb of the parking lot. And that guy over there is fascinated by an oil spot. There isn’t a functioning neuron amongst them.”

Fred came to their defense. “Hey, they’re not the living dead, after all…well, except for that one.”

Diego became more comfortable as he gradually began to realize he recognized all the other directors. They were folks he saw around town every day—the garden critic, the poet laureate, the seagull trainer…all Yachatians he knew and respected.

Then it occurred to him. All of these people had less than a rudimentary understanding of baseball. And none had any sense of good business practices. (Fortunately, that doesn’t matter—many a major league baseball executive has executed knowing less than a sniffle about baseball and without even a whit of business sense.)

Then another thing occurred to him: he was co-chairperson of the Board, which implied he should be doing some kind of leadership stuff. So he said to Fred, “I’m co-chairperson—shouldn’t I be doing some leadership stuff?”

“Oh, we’re all co-chairpersons. Thirty-six of us. I suppose that could make things a little awkward…”

Diego cradled his chin in his fingers. “Well, I’ve heard wise sayings warning about a rudderless boat, but not one peep about the inconveniences of thirty-six rudders. So, I’m guessing we’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, you just can’t have too many rudders, probably. Or paddles, for that matter.”

“Nah, at least not for what we’ll be doing.” Diego dropped his voice. “What does the Board of a baseball team do, anyway?”

Fred picked up Diego’s voice. “Beats me. I’m just going to do what everyone else does. I’ve found that’s always best. I wonder if we’ll have hors d’oeuvres.”

“Sounds a snap,” mused Diego. “Looks like a Board’s what to be on, what with the economy and all, especially if we’re served hors d’oeuvres. Are you sure that’s spelled right?”

But Fred’s eyes had gone all taxidermy, showing that his mind was doing a walk-about. “So, where exactly are the Solomon Islands do you think?”

Next time: We have a real treat in store for you. We’ll wander into Heidi’s Italian Café to observe the banter between the three founders of the Yachats Smelt as they deal with problems such as crass baseball commercialism and a Board of Directors having no place to sit.

NOTE: Please go to “Leave a Reply” at the bottom of this page if you feel the need to tell us something. When all is said and done, we’ll publish all comments that have substantive literary merit on the day the Yachats Smelt first take the field.

NOTE AGAIN: Dave Baldwin and Eric Sallee want you to know they strongly support the Yachats Smelt and the Rubbery Shrubbery blog.

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