Let 'Em Strike

If you've gotten anywhere near a media outlet of any sort over the last two weeks, you're aware that the scions of our National Pastime, those stalwart men who sometimes work as much as four hours a day, are unhappy with the bazillions of dollars they're making and are threatening to strike.

Opposite them stand the billionaire owners, who would have us believe they're on our side ... they just want to save the game and make it more competitive. Their stance has NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with the fact that, because they've set up a system under which a .200 hitting backup catcher can clear more than a neurosurgeon, they're hemhorrhaging money faster than I go through a can of Pringles.

I say let 'em strike. For those of you requiring a baseball fix, there are Little League, high school, college, and minor league games aplenty. You can see some players who honestly still love the game, and not pay $4.50 for a hot dog or *gulp* $7 for a sack of peanuts (Enron Field--Houston).

I've got a nifty idea! How about you get up and DO something! Folks, if a hardcore couch potato like me is willing to get my bulk moving to find entertainment sans baseball, you surely can.

Now, of course, this wouldn't be the Weird Chronicles if I didn't offer some less-than-conventional options for your sporting and entertainment pleasure, so let's see what we can come up with, eh?

Here, Fishie Fishie

If you're a resident of Oklahoma, Louisiana, Mississippi or Tennessee, or can get to one of those states, you can indulge in what is perhaps the ultimate battle of man against nature: noodling.

Catfish are one of those aquatic beings that haven't much changed since prehistoric times, and noodling is a method of procuring them which may go back almost as far.

The equipment is pretty simple: a pair of hands and a large container of some sort into which the fish may be deposited. I specify large, because it's not all that uncommon to come up with flathead catfish weighing 40 pounds or more.

The technique is almost as simple: the noodler, preferably accompanied by an assistant or two, explores the banks of a creek or river looking for "fish holes." Catfish, being lazy by nature, like to burrow into these spots and hang about.

Having found a likely hole, the noodler sticks his arm into the hole, fingers wiggling. The idea, as I understand it, is to get the catfish to bite the intruding hand, thus allowing the noodler to get a grip on the beast and drag it from its lair.

If you've spent any time at all watching the Discovery Channel, you know that all manner of creatures like holes and burrows along riverbanks. Some of them, like beavers and water moccassins, can become occupational hazards for the fish hunters. You've seen what a beaver can do to a tree trunk ... imagine an annoyed one going after your fingers. You won't see THAT on "Crocodile Hunter."

Noodling aficionados swear by the sport, saying that it's the easiest way to harvest vast quantities of catfish in limited time. The occasional fatality due to entrapment or snake venom just adds a touch of spice to the game.

Snack Break!

After all that fishing, you've surely worked up an appetite. What better way to cool off and quell those munchies than with a pint of the finest ice cream on the planet, Ben and Jerry's?

Before you pick up that tub of The Full Vermonty or (my favorite) Concession Obsession, though, make sure you pay heed to the Food Police, our friends at the Center for Science in the Public Interest, who've now crawled from their tofu-lined burrows to attack the sweet treat.

Ben and Jerry's is well-known for opposing the use of recombinant bovine growth hormone, and for using quality ingredients in all the flavors. That's not enough for CSPI, though. They're nitpicking over the packaging language on some of the varieties. They claim that "all-natural" is being used on products that aren't, and that the stout Vermonters who keep me supplied with Karamel Sutra are lying about the natural creds of some of their ingredients.

All in favor of completely ignoring this and cracking open a pint, Say aye!

The Pet Parade

You might want to fill those empty, baseball-free hours with the love of a pet, a furry little pal to call your own and take for walks, feed, groom, vaccinate, clean up after and train not to chew on the good couch.

Or you could get a pet roach.

In Bangkok, Thailand, the latest rage is raising and breeding giant African cockroaches. Businessmen are importing the Madagascar Hissing Cockroach in vast numbers and selling the armored wonders for about $1.20 apiece.

The Thai government, realizing that the tropical climate of their country represents a near-paradisical home for the giant roaches, are a touch concerned. They've asked their charges to stop keeping the roaches as pets.

This is another one of those "why didn't I think of it first?" moments. Heck, in one hour on my patio on a warm summer evening, I could harvest enough Texas wood roaches, which will give any African bug a run in the size market, to enable me to retire to somewhere without so much armor-plated wildlife.

Your Turn

OK, I've given you a couple of ideas on how to occupy yourselves if the Sultans of Sweat do, indeed, take to the picket lines. Now it's your turn. What odd pursuit will occupy you in the absence of baseball? Drop me a line and I'll put the best of the submissions together in a future column.