So it’s been like nine months since I’ve been out on the field doing my thing. You know, tail wagging, racing those little shits around the bases, shooting a bunch of fucking T-shirts at fans, and I gotta tell you: as mildly retarded as I may look out there on the field, I kind of miss it, the old gig.

So build a fucking ballpark already, will you?  Jesus Mary Mother in Heaven.  Quit dilly-dallying around and let’s drop four fucking bases around a grassy diamond, toss in some bleachers and get this cockamamie shit-show back on the road.

Let’s play some fucking ball again, shall we gentlemen?

Where should this shit be built, you ask?  In the Bottom, of course.  Sure, it’s going to be costly.  And there ain’t much down there as it is.  But there’s a little saying out there you might have heard of, from a little film called Field of Fucking Dreams: “Built it, and they will come.”

And they will.  Hard.

We’re talking about fans coming, a Class AA team coming, and all kinds of private investment coming.  Smell that?  It’s the awesome aroma of capitalism wafting through the air, and I fucking love it.

You’ve seen all the studies that say this can work.  All like what, 40 of them?  How many goddamn experts in this shit do you need to tell you the same motherfucking thing over and over and over – and over - again?  With the hours and months we’ve shat down the drain and money we’ve pissed off a cliff we could have had the goddamned grandstands built already.  But no, we needed a few more 100-K-plus reports shoved up our asses, just to be sure.

You might be wondering why someone named Diamond Duck is supporting this project a few miles from my home, The Diamond.  Have you seen that pile of dinosaur shit lately?  Have you been to the so-called “neighborhood” over there? How many times have you heard someone say, “Hey, Joe, great idea.  Let’s all go watch a baseball game in the middle of fucking nowhere, then hang out near the I-95 all night, maybe go pop a few beers at the self-storage facility.  Perhaps the poor fucks who hangout at the Greyhound station ‘cross the street all night would want to join us.  Hey Joe, you want to come with?”

No!  Of course Joe doesn’t want to go, you dipshit!  The Bottom is where “it’s” at.  ”It” being “shit to do.”

And see this costume?  I don’t have to be a duck.  Throw in a pair of buck teeth and I can become a goddamn beaver: the Bottom Beaver.  Color me gray and call me the Shockoe Sandpiper.  Don’t give me that look, asshole.  Ducks and sandpipers are in the same genus or species or bird family or whatever-the-fuck you call it.

And don’t give me that you’re-not-a-baseball-fan bullshit.  They want to build restaurants and stores and homes and hopefully a couple places where I can get my duck-mack on.  Have you seen what’s there now?  A goddamned parking lot, that’s what.  This area is as ripe for development as an apple in the dead of Octfuckingtober.

Plus, know what else is great about the Bottom? The bitches, baby.  Human and duck alike, the chicks are everywhere.  So take me out to the motherfucking ball game.

When Amanda Beck wanted to show off her delicious Mexican meal last month – the No. 5 lunch special, which includes a burrito, taco and refried beans – the Henrico County teenager thought nothing of sending a photo of the hot plate to a friend.

But then her friend passed the photo of the meal to another friend.  Who passed it to another. 

And then to another.

“I was horrified,” said the 17-year-old Beck, who suddenly realized that by the noon the next day, everyone had seen photos of her steaming entree.  “I never thought that those photos would get around so fast the way that they did.”

Beck is not alone.  Local school officials said they are concerned with a “growing and disturbing” trend among students, who are using cell phones to send explicit picture text messages of their Mexican food meals to others, in a phenomenon known as Mexting.  The photos sometimes are passed to more than the intended recipient, creating what can quickly become an embarrassing situation for someone who was trying to share their sauce and spice-heavy meal with another person in private.

“Just like in real life, people get excited over the sight of Mexican food, and technology is advancing that.  It’s our human nature to see these images of such foods and get a deep Mexican craving,” said Allison Cubitt, a guidance counselor at Thomas Jefferson High School in Richmond. 

“What these teens don’t realize is that there can be serious consequences when sending pictures of their tacos or enchiladas to others,” she added. 

Exactly how prevalent Mexting has become is difficult to determine, since there is little research on the subject.  But empirical evidence has led Richmond psychologist P. Bill Fasullio to believe that it’s not just teens who are Mexting – he believes one in three under age 18 has done so – and that adults are getting in on the titillating act, too. 

“In fact, I just did,” the 62-year-old said, finishing up his Chipotle burrito, but not before sending images of it to his wife, children, and mistress via his BlackBerry.

Officials said that if the Mexting trend keeps up, it could one day lead to people sending photos of their muscles, or flexting; sneezing, or Kleenexting; or sending nude or semi-nude photos of themselves to others, a trend that has yet to be named.

A report released today by Virginia Commonwealth University presents new evidence that an overwhelming majority of all glassware found in the homes of the city’s twenty- and thirty-something restidents is, in fact, illegally removed from local restaurants, pubs and breweries.

The 149-page report found that nearly 92 percent of residents aged 22 to 38 had “a suspicious number” of 16-ounce conical pint glasses stocked in their own cabinets.  Most all of the cups feature the  the logos of iconic beer brands, such as Sierra Nevada and Brooklyn Brewery, as well as local restaurants, including Legends and Capital Ale House.

“What is so interesting about this phenomenon is that people aren’t just drinking alcohol from these glasses, but using them for daily beverage consumption, from water to milk to orange juice, or even as an ice cream bowl,” said Lydia Whalen, VCU’s lead researcher on the report, which observed the cupboard habits of more than 300 people under age 40 in the greater Richmond area.  “Furthermore, this is an age group that has a high level of disposable income and could easily afford to buy their own glassware, even pint glasses - yet they choose to create their own collection from that of the local restaurant glassware stock.”

“I know from experience,” the 32-year-old scientist and frequent glass-stealer added.

In only 20 percent of the cases, Whalen said, the glassware was authorized to be removed from the bar in an established and publicized ‘Steal The Glass’ night, an event held by several local breweries and restaurants.

James Schalow, a downtown copywriter, said taking glassware from restaurants is “a fun pastime for me and my friends” – albeit a Class 3 misdemeanor.

“It works best if you have a chick with you, who has a purse that can hold four or five of them at a time,” said the 29-year-old, whose cabinets include three plates, a bowl, and 71 pint glasses marked with an array of beer brand logos.  “Those things are all we have in our apartment.  Plus they have great grips and stack really well.  I’ve even nuked mac and cheese in them.  Extremely versatile.”

Restaurant owners having sought revenge with glass stealers by rigging each glass to – at a certain moment in time – slip from the drinker’s hands and smash into millions of tiny, un-sweepable shards.

Despite having already put on her shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes, Theresa McGrady’s discovery yesterday that her iPod had not been charged immediately cancelled plans for a 3.5 mile run down Richmond’s historic Monument Avenue, the jogger said.

“Well, to hell with it if I can’t run to music,” said the 34-year-old, sitting down in front of her TV and unlacing her $95 Saucony ProGrid running shoes.  “I mean, Entertainment Tonight is on, so I guess I can just watch that while the iPod is charging back up.  Then I’ll try again.”

As of press time, McGrady was seen barefoot, in a pair of jeans, with a glass of white wine and some Doritos, expressing notable interest in a segment on Inside Edition.

What was to be an enjoyable family meal at the Olive Garden restaurant took a turn for the worse last night after SaveRichmond.com writer and editor Don Harrison verbally assaulted a waiter, line cook, and assistant manager over the temperature and taste of his chicken Alfredo, sources said.

In addition to listing numerous “almost criminal” problems with the pasta dish – which was, by most accounts, perfectly fine – the highly cynical Richmond blogger also managed to also rattle off several conspiracy theories that, he believed, were perpetuated upon his $9.95 Italian dinner.

“You know what the best thing about this meal is?  The fact that I’m out of dog food,” said Harrison, whose acerbic tone is typically reserved for criticism and pot shots of city officials, downtown planning, transportation and government spending.

Also: people, things, materialism, consumerism, grocery stores, animals, the media, bloggers, movies, the arts, corporations, Don Harrison, coffee, children, sports, picture frames and, in an isolated case, the Reeds, his elderly neighbors who in July 2007 forgot to mow their lawn for an entire week.

“Gee, Mr. Waiter, you didn’t think I’d actually consume this pasta dish that has apparently been made, not with love, but with Kraft cheese, did you?”  Harrison asked the red-faced Olive Garden employee.  “Let’s try again, shall we?” 

The 49-year-old Harrison also managed to take a dig at the restaurant chain’s popular unlimited salad and bread sticks, which are offered with every meal. 

“This stuff is ‘free,’ is it?” Harrison said, using his fingers to sardonically air-quote certain words as he spoke.  “Did you ‘pay’ a corporation for the lettuce when you could have ‘freely’ used a local supplier?  Some ‘free’ food you’re schlepping in front of us.”

Harrison later blogged about his experience at Olive Garden – overloading the post with nearly two dozen hyperlinks to previous SaveRichmond.com articles – while enjoying “every bite” of his chicken Alfredo in the privacy of his home office.

Frito-Lay announced plans today for a plant just south of Richmond that will employ more than 1,000 workers in an operation dedicated solely to the production of lime dust, a seasoning that is later blasted onto the snacking company’s popular Hint of Lime-flavored Tostitos tortilla chips.

“To make just one little chip with only a ‘hint’ of lime actually takes a huge amount of not only limes, but elbow grease,” said Frito-Lay spokesman Jim Robinson, noting at least 100 citrus fruits and 200 workers are needed to create just one bag of Hint of Lime Tostitos.

Robinson said the lime crematorium, as Frito-Lay calls it, was needed to help Tostitos keep up with the Hint of Lime all-white corn chip demand, which is so high that it cannot be measured by modern economic analysis, or even plotted on a basic demand curve.

Richmond officials praised Tostitos for its move to the area, saying the lime crematorium will fill the gap left by the loss of several notable Fortune 500 companies, and will more than likely provide the surrounding community with donated bags of Hint of Lime Tostitos.

And hopefully some salsa.

“This is particularly a great project for anyone who likes Tostitos, which is, of course, everyone,” said Greg Wingfield, president of the Greater Richmond Partnership economic development group, as he attempted to remove the cap off a jar of Tostitos-brand Nacho Cheese Dip.  “And if I could get the top off this stupid jar, I myself could dig into this bag that’s been calling my name for the past few hours.”

Added Wingfield, sticking the jar between his knees for increased dip container-opening leverage: “Aaarrrggghhh.”

While no actual chips will be produced at the new facility, Frito-Lay said the local plant will have employees testing alternative chip-dipping techniques, the aerodynamics of jars, and how to dip broken chips or chip crumbs into salsa without getting the salsa or cheese sauce all over your hands and insides of your fingers.

City residents awoke this morning to the sound of golf claps resonating throughout the Richmond skies, a stream of applause typically done out of appreciation – though, possibly mockery – rather than actual excitement.

Richmond police said the light, rapid sounds of subdued clapping began around 2 a.m., growing louder by the hour.  By 8 a.m. today, the sounds of the distant, emotionless applause – typically heard offscreen during televised golf tournaments – was audible within 60 miles of the city’s center. 

“As of now, we are not entirely certain where the golf clapping is coming from, and whoever or whatever is doing it, we are unsure of whether they are showing us appreciation or looking down at us with sarcasm,” Richmond Police Chief Bryan T. Norwood said.   ”Seriously, was it something I did or said?”

Residents have attempted to go about their day as routinely as possible, but say they are perplexed by the spiritless, constant pattern golf clapping – and worry they have done something to merit the rather indifferent applause.

“I mean, the purpose of the golf clap is to do it lightly, fingers on one hand to the palm of the other, so you don’t bother the golfers on other holes,” said Greg Getz, walking into his downtown office.  “But the fact that it’s such a lackluster sound and everyone in the city can hear it would lead me to believe someone, somewhere is mocking us.”

Added the 52-year-old: “Is this about me putting my foot in my mouth during the party on Saturday night?”

Norwood said the police would try to uncover the source of the golf clapping by the end of the day, but was relieved the noise was not a slow, open-handed clap, “which would definitely mean it was sarcastic.”

Moments into his instructional lesson on how to properly ride a Segway before his group’s tour of Richmond, local man Peter Gerloff toyed with the idea of asking the guide if he could take the two-wheeled personal transporter “off of any sweet jumps.”

“You know, kind of like that line from Napoleon Dynamite,” the 23-year-old Gerloff whispered to friend Claire Pence, who encouraged him to go forward with the well-known movie reference.   ”Though, line from a movie or not, I think it’d still be fun to take it off some jumps.”

Segway of Richmond tour guide Walt Owens said he is frequently asked, in jest, the jump question – and it’s getting rather old.

“Everyone thinks it’s really clever to say, and people always ask in that hushed, moany accent that the Napoleon Dynamite guy has,” said Owens, who typically bites his lip but would prefer to tell customers that they can launch the Segway over the side of a city bridge if they so-frigging-desire.  ”Their impressions typically suck, though, and I’d think people would have at least thought to whip out some Gladiator- or Spartacus-chariot jokes, or at least a mall-cop-on-Segway reference.  But no.”

Gerloff later told reporters that he would indeed pull the “sweet jumps” question in a Napoleon Dynamite-fashion, but would fallback on “storing his numchucks” in the Segway’s handlebar bag if there were no laughs.

Alternative Richmond newspaper Style Weekly today released its annual Muzak Issue, highlighting the best local retail stores, hotel lobbies and dentist offices that play the popular form of business background music.

“While our annual Music Issue that hit stands last week focused on talented local musicians, we wanted to take time to highlight those grocery stores, shopping malls and  elevators that play the best from such beloved artists as Fleetwood Mac, Train, and Bonnie Raitt,” said Style editor Jason Roop.  “Muzak is such an important part of people’s lives, and this issue shows us just how much so.” 

Recognized in the newspaper is the women’s clothing department at the Regency Square Mall Macy’s for its nearly 900 replays last year of Hall & Oates’ “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do)”; a bank in Mechanicsville for its Nickelback- and 3 Doors Down-heavy mixes; and the elevator at the Holiday Inn Express on East Cary Street, known for its affinity toward Toto, James Taylor, and Air Supply songs.

“It’s great to finally give these businesses credit for some of the tunes they pick for people to shop to, stay on hold on the telephone to, or ride to their hotel room to,” Style reader Amy Gunn said.  “Personally, I know there’s nothing better than having some Chicago or Phil Collins blaring over those ceiling speakers when I’m stocking up on groceries.  I’m glad Style recognizes that, too.”

Dozens of race fans were hospitalized on Saturday from the effects of sensory overload, succumbing to the unending sounds, sights, feels, smells and tastes of a NASCAR event, doctors said today.

Most of the 34 injured at Richmond International Raceway, VCU Medical Center neurologist Anthony M. Wilson III said, were felled by the near constant barrage of a day full of steadfast people-watching, drinking, food-eating and an array of various sounds, including both hooting and hollering, screaming and yelling, and more than 130 decibels blaring from 42 V-12 engines for nearly four straight hours.

“These patients were treated for a number of olfacory, aural, audiovisual and other neurological stimuli, all of which are experienced at heightened, sustained rates during a day-long tailgate and race,” Wilson said. 

“Shit must have been off the hook,” he added.

One witness said she saw three men collapse at once near the start of the Crown Royal 400, after they were simultaneously bombarded with the sight of five fighter jets soaring overhead while listening to the ‘Star Spangled Banner,’ and drinking 16-ounce beers while staring at three women nearby in tube tops.  The smell of a funnel cake also wafted through the air at the time, creating what VCU’s Wilson called a five-alarm sensatory overload.

“Really, considering all the things they were hearing, viewing, feeling, and smelling at the time, I don’t know how they didn’t drop even sooner,” racegoer Mary Ellen Blackwood said.  “I wouldn’t be able to handle it, either.”

Speaking from his hospital bed, overloaded NASCAR fan A.J. Reinman said he felt lethargic late in the day while eating an Italian sausage and concurrently viewing a group of four men with mullets wearing sleeveless undershirts, as planes and helicopters flew overhead.

“I hope NASCAR officials do something to stop all the senses you feel and experience out there before someone ends up dead,” Reinman said.  “With everything going on out there, it makes for a real dangerous mix.  Takes my breath away even just thinking about it.”

Of those  hospitalized, three were psychics who, in addition to having their other five senses overwhlemed, fainted after correctly determining the winner of the race before it began.

Editor To God: ‘We So Desperately Need A Richmond Angle’

Moments before crawling into bed last night, Richmond Times-Dispatch managing editor Gary Pelletier prayed that someone locally - anyone, for the love of God - would be diagnosed with swine influenza, thus giving the newspaper a solid local angle on a global story.

“Dear Lord, I know I don’t do this often or ask much of You, but I am begging You, begging You, to let someone come down with this horrible pandemic and give us the coverage we so desperately need,” a closed-eyed Pelletier beseeched to the Almighty, kneeling at the bedside, elbows on the mattress, fists clinched together against his forehead.  “You have no idea what this means to me, but being God and all, well, You probably do.”

Added Pelletier: “I’ll do anything.”

The editor prayed that the All Knowing would help him find a local turn on the swine flu outbreak not just for the Times-Dispatch’s city, county and health reporters, but also the music critic, sports writers, and, hopefully, the schools and religion beats. 

“I hope this isn’t asking too much, but if somehow You can make this victim play in a local band, be active in his church, and have been a standout athlete in high school, that would be best,” the 58-year-old said, silently hoping to send at least 13 journalists into the field to cover the story.  “Some National Guard presence around the city like in that movie Outbreak would also be superb, but I understand if I’m pushing it.” 

“Also, I ask that You please let those infected be willing to let us take their picture or shoot some online video of them,” Pelletier said.

God, speaking from His New York home in the Hamptons, made no comment regarding Pelletier’s wishes, only to respond to a reporter’s phone call with a thunderous, ear-splitting sonic boom.

After praying, the editor climbed into bed, complaining to his wife of a sore throat, a slight headache, and an oncoming feeling of uncontrollable bowel movements and vomiting.

A motorcade transporting Richmond Mayor Dwight Jones to the Short Pump Arby’s was attacked by terrorists yesterday, six hours after sources leaked word to Tobacco Avenue of the city official’s roast beef run.

Eight gunmen, believed to have been linked to the devout Chic-fil-A fanaticism movement, were killed in a dramatic shootout in the westbound lanes of Interstate 64 near Parham Road in an incident that sent shockwaves around the world of fast-food dining.  One mayoral guard was wounded in the convoy attack by the terrorists, armed with assault rifles, rocket launchers, and thousands of Chic-fil-A Polynesian dipping sauce packets.

Jones escaped with minor scrapes in the ambush, his spokeswoman said, though was unable to fulfill his Arby’s craving. 

“I would sincerely hope the reporters at Tobacco Avenue are happy for the events they have singlehandedly caused today, having reported on classified information regarding the mayor’s luncheoning habits,” said Tammy Hawley, the mayor’s press secretary.  “Furthermore, Mayor Jones was unable to reach the luxury Arby’s in Short Pump and therefore denied a large roast beef sandwich, and possibly some of those triangle-shaped potato bites.”

Tobacco Avenue Editor & Publisher Randolph J. Strummer Jr. had no comment on the matter, saying he was too busy watching the 2007 Peter Berg film The Kingdom.

Four of the mayor’s escorting vehicles, black Chevrolet Suburbans, were destroyed in the motorcade attack, forcing city agents into a violent gun battle in the middle of I-64.  One of the mayor’s security guards, known to aides as “the comic relief,” was kidnapped by the Chic-fil-Agents but rescued nearly two hours later.

The mayoral convoy attack was condemned by a still-hungry Jones, who said he had been “thinking Arby’s” since early Tuesday morning. 

“Let it be known that I will not let a few radical chicken-sandwich lovers take a craving of juicy, roasted beef away from me,” the 62-year-old Jones said, adding that he would bring the terrorists to justice and soon make it to Arby’s “so help me God.”

Added Jones: “We’re gonna kill ‘em all.”

Richmond Mayor Dwight Jones is thinking Arby’s for lunch today, sources have confirmed.

The Arby’s run, offhandedly mentioned by Jones at his staff meeting this morning, could fall somewhere between 11:30 p.m. and 1:30 p.m. today, said the sources, who spoke on the condition of anonymity.  The mayoral roast beefing will likely target the Short Pump location due to its luxury fast-food accommodations.

“Anyone else in the mood for a roast beef sandwich for lunch?  I could sure use one,” said Jones, whose mind was made up for Arby’s pretty much as soon as he woke up.  “I think I might even make it a large this time, as opposed to my normal regular.”

As of 9 a.m., Blackhawk helicopters were seen circling the Short Pump area in preparation for the mayoral Arby’s visit, while Virginia State Police had shut down two westbound lanes of Interstate 64 in advance of the 62-year-old’s roast beefing.  Sources said the meal would indeed be “a dine-in,” and that Jones would order a sweet iced tea, though it was unclear whether he would upgrade to a combo for an additional $2.99.

Jones was also said to be considering procurement of a frozen JaMocha shake.

The mayor, who said he “never even pondered” Hardee’s, Wendy’s, or Burger King as possible lunch-going options, said his only eating decision has come down to whether he will get regular or curly fries from Arby’s. 

“I just hope if I get regular fries that they are the long-cut kind, because I’ve never been a huge fan of waffle fries,” Jones said, adding that he hopes he remembers to ask for extra Arby’s and Horsey sauces at the time of ordering.  “Because you never want to sit down at the table and prepare to eat your meal, then realize you forgot the sauces, and then have to walk all the way back up to the counter for some.”

As of press time, the mayor was unaware that he had a noon meeting with his press secretary, and would therefore have to postpone the Arby’s trip until tomorrow.

Velvet gentlemen’s club owner Samuel J.T. Moore III announced plans today to not only drive his heavily-modified Hummer H2 around downtown for the next few weeks, but to also honk the horn – all in a wide-ranging effort to impress you.

“Look how cool my Hummer is,” Moore said, noting he also plans to blast hip-hip singer Chris Brown’s “Kiss Kiss” from the truck’s big speakers to try and wow you, sweep you off your feet, and, quite possibly, leave you speechless.  “Did you notice the wheels and shiny hubcabs?  They’re like 20-something inches, which, as you can tell, bigger is awesomer.”

The 44-year-old Moore said the horn honking will take place at various corners of the city for the next 180 days, just so that you won’t miss it.  Additionally, Velvet’s owner – who sources say just winked at and pointed his finger like a pistol toward you – made clear that his Hummer “Sport Utility Truck,” wrapped in a graphic of scantily-clad women, was kick-ass, and you should be aware of that.

Moore, speaking from the driver’s seat, then exited the vehicle, missing his step and falling the entirety of the Hummer’s impressive 2.5-foot lift directly onto his face.

The Richmond Braves began their 49th season last Friday – the first, league officials said, that will see the city’s Triple-A baseball team play all of its 140 games on the road.

Half of the games will take place at the brand new Richmond Braves ballpark in a small Atlanta suburb, “and then we’ll do the other half elsewhere around the eastern United States,” said Dave Brundage, the R-Braves general manager.  “Unfortunately, we were unable to schedule any of those games in Richmond this year.”

Added Brundage: “Funny how that all worked out.”

The R-Braves have also updated the look of the Diamond Duck mascot, he said, replacing its yellow feathers with brown fur, its beak with buck teeth, and its name with Chopper the Groundhog.

Brundage said he hopes the local team will play in Richmond again sometime in the near future, hopefully as soon as 6050.

An internal report released yesterday from Richmond Mayor Dwight Jones’ office found that the city is spending “far less than is needed” toward saving the region’s dwindling manatee population. 

Reacting almost immediately to the study’s findings, which uncovered “a complete disregard for the endangerment of the region’s sea cows at nearly all levels of local government,” Jones directed nearly $4.3 million for preservation of the fully aquatic marine mammals, which are found predominantly in the warm waters of Central Virginia.

“Manatees are in declining numbers all over the world, and it would be inappropriate for us to let these precious animals slip under or off our radar here locally,” Jones said of the herbivorous creatures that enjoy the warm, shallow waters of the James River.     

“Manatee extinction is probably the No. 1 most pressing civic issue we face as Richmonders,” he added.

Despite the increased preservation of Richmond’s sea cow population, the city has yet to take measures to protect the region’s dugongs, star-nosed moles, or Chinese giant salamanders.