Once in a gnat's life, I get a dispatch from Tommy Shanks, a reader who claims "Melonville" as his home, which is more a state of mind than a physical place. Tommy writes short, tight notes that deliver a punch or love tap, a bold assertion or mildly amusing observation. Last week, Tommy wrote: "If the Rams go to St. Louis instead of Baltimore, they're idiots." I like this kid's form. Today, I'm in a Melonville state of mind myself.
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The Orioles raising ticket prices while Peter Angelos flashes his checkbook for an NFL franchise cures me of an unhealthy tendency to look on the bright side.
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The American voter has his/her thumb on the electoral remote control, channel surfing through politicians and ideologies for answers.
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With all the legal acumen Angelos possesses, you'd think he could get the name of the right field flag court changed from Eli Jacobs Plaza to Robinson Plaza.
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And if he doesn't succeeed in bringing the NFL franchise to Baltimore, will it then be known as the Lost Angelos Rams?
*Larry Gibson and Kurt Schmoke can brag all they like about a 43 percent voter turnout in Baltimore last Tuesday. But had Parris Glendening run a better, more resonant campaign here, the turnout could have been a more respectable 50 or 55 percent. It was 68 percent in the last election, just two years ago.
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Burt Lancaster appeared in a lot of good ones, but my favorite is still "Sweet Smell of Success."
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I took lunch in a quaint "tea room" in Mt. Washington. But I dunno. It was all a little too dainty for me.
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The Orioles are conducting an ingenius campaign for the marketing of season tickets -- for the CFL.
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One of the best pasta dishes I've ever had -- and trust me, pasta is my life -- is the orecchiette with tuna, capers, sun-dried tomatoes and other secret ingredients at Troia's.
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If anybody in this town had a sense of humor, they'd have allowed exhumation of John Wilkes Booth's grave on Halloween.
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A perfectly fine outing to an antiques store in Frederick was upset by a fellow with a large stomach bending down low to look in a glass case, taking his pants with him. Not a pretty picture.
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Life has been blah around Cross Keys since the deli closed, but the Village Roost there remains the premier power breakfast spot in Baltimore.
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I never liked short-sleeve shirts with two pockets til I bought a blue chambray one at the Bass outlet in Perryville.
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You haven't heard gobbledygook til you've heard panelists on Louis Rukeyser's "Wall Street Week" explain what derivatives are.
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The recent discovery of old pancake batter encrusted along the lip of a coffee cup in a local restaurant made me feel right at home.
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Did you know that vampire bats live six to eight years and spend most of that time biting hoofed animals and lapping their blood? The rest of the time, they're either sleeping or making babies. Some mammals live the life, don't they?
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Robert Shapiro, O.J. Simpson's attorney, looks like the kind of guy who shoots his cuffs when he walks into a room.
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I know it's not good for you but the smell of frying maple sugar bacon makes me want to eat a sizable portion, at least once a year.
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Soon the archbishop will be elevated to cardinal. Does that mean Don Walls will no longer be the only man in Baltimore sporting red shoes?
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When a waitress in a Maryland restaurant allows that the crabcakes "have some filler," that's not a subtle warning to avoid them. That's a hammer to the head.
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Have you noticed that "easy listening music" has been replaced by lite rock? However corny we might have thought pre-Beatles rock was, at least it had to be remade to become background music. Lite rock, on the other hand, comes as-is.
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The most breathtaking sunset anywhere might be on Little Round Top at Gettysburg. One autumn evening, a satisfied viewer yelled, "Encore!"
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Why is it so difficult to sit down to a plate of good fried bananas in this town?
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Kevin Nealon's longevity on "Saturday Night Live" is one of the great mysteries of network television.
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I took Nick, my 4-year-old, to C-Mart in Bel Air. While picking through a circular rack of women's clothing, hoping to find something for his mom, Nick held up a red garment and said, "Look, Dad, a Rudy Miller costume."
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Zip-trip suggestion: Take a ride to Frederick County and check out the 104-year-old Loys Station covered bridge. It runs 90 feet over Owens Creek, near Thurmont.