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Miscellaneous/Toby/The Dogfather & Dogout Dog 070327

 The DogFather      Hello Readers,

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Ah, my midday nap. How much fun...being transfurred to a darkly lit room, I hear voices. Vito is speaking to a nervous suit with a brim hat. “Tony..., Tony..., Tony...! How often I gotta tell you, it’s time. You gotta pay your respects to the DogFather for settin’ you up in the business. He ain’t goin’ to like you passin’ on the opportunity to acknowledge his concern for you and the missus.”

Sweat pours from Tony’s brow as he replies, “Sure Vito, I am indebted to the DogFather,  but just havin’ to see him causes me to lose all sense of confidence an’ wonderin’ if he is sizin’ me up for a cement suit.”

“Tony..., Tony..., Tony...! The dogfather wants all of the family to be happy, and that means you, too. Now go in and give him your regards, and just for old times, let me take care of your piece till you get  out,” replies Vito.

In the next darkly lit room, I am sitting in my burgundy red leather swivel chair with the bone armrests behind the mahogany desk holding a Venetian glass ash tray with a big Cuban emitting a cloudy aroma. I am wearing my silk black suit with white shirt and red tie. My ruby ring of the Sicilian order of the loyal canines is on my third claw of my left front paw. I pack a part of a dog biscuit into each cheek to give me an older, wiser appearance. Tony meekly walks in and glides over to me, kissing the ring and saying, “DogFather, I hope I find you well today!”

“Tony..., Tony..., Tony...! You are like my own son. You bring me the light of happiness with the smile on you face,” I reply.

He sheepishly generates that smile and breathes a sigh of relief. “Dogfather, I have come to thank you for the opportunity you have given me to have a place in the organization. My skills are tuned to building the getaway cars with the breakneck acceleration due to the battery electric drive. There is no job which cannot benefit from the performance of these vehicles.”

“How about the range?” I ask. Tony tries to still his wrenching hands of the nervousness and replies, “Do not be concerned as I have loaded enough batteries in it to do at least 70 miles, enough to get us to the exchange car which will remove the scent for the Heat.” “Good Job Tony,” I reply. “You should be seeing enough business to keep you busy.”

“Well DogFather, that is the rub. So far I have thirty getaway cars built in the showroom, but no potential customers. What am I doing wrong?”

“Tony,...” I reply, “ are not doing things wrong, you just need to get the word out.” “And just how does that get done DogFather?” Tony asks.

“Tony..., Tony..., Tony...!” Says I. “... You need to advertise in Batteries Digest. People who are looking for new information are visiting there.” Tony  replies, “Yes, DogFather, but do I advertise in the Newsletter or on the Website?” “Tony..., Tony..., Tony... You can get an annual contract which allows advertisers to simultaneously get ad space in the Newsletter and the website.” says I.

“DogFather, I thought we were getting out of ‘contracts’ with the new business model!” Tony exclaims. “Yes, but this is only a contract where you pay cash for the ad space for the year,” I tell him. With a sigh of relief, Tony asks, “but will this get to my type of customer?”

“Tony..., Tony..., Tony... The big hitters show up for this information. BD has readers making seven and eight figures; many of whom I might add, actually pay taxes on that roll.” I say. “But how about the banks?” Tony asks. “ No banks, a few venture capitalists, and now and then some Wall Street Analysts, but you are safe from the banks.” I reply. Tony breathes a sigh of relief and then says, “DogFather, I have my best getaway car fitted with double wall bulletproof glass and steel panels downstairs. It would make me happy to see you use it as a token of my gratitude.”

“Thank you, Tony, your mamma has raised a good boy.”  

Pop! I am awake in my own back yard, but as I sniff the air I wonder where that stinky cigar smell is coming from.
Tail wags \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ /,               TOBY

 Dogout Dog

Hello Readers,

We are now experiencing those warm, lazy days of summer, giving me
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The Babe is on the left, me in the center and Lou on the right
 the opportunity to dream of baseball, our nation’s pastime, while enjoying peanuts, (skip the Crackerjacks) and lots of frankfurters. There is no other place that I would rather be than the the Yankee dugout at Wrigley Field, in the fifth inning of game three of the 1932 World Series between those Yankees and the Chicago Cubs. Here I am, standing between my idols, Babe Ruth - the ‘Sultan of Swat’, and Lou Gherig - the ‘Iron Horse’. Baseball players like to ride the opposing team members, so I am duly outfitted in my Cub uniform, nestled securely between those Yankee pin stripes.

The Babe and Lou have been carrying on a big discussion about how to put this game and the series away. Lou is leaning toward getting on base with a hit since he was so good in posting a lifetime .350 batting average, meaning he got more than one hit for every three at-bats.  Babe was in favor of cleaning up with a home run since he was the man to post 467 homers in his career, 52 more than the runner-up, Jimmy Foxx.

 “I don’t know why you’re so hung up on hits, Lou, when you could get it all over in one swing....” the Babe said. “ Hits are for sissies, and you can leave a lot of guys stuck on base at the end of an inning. I’m afraid hits aren’t all they are cracked up to be.”

“That’s true, Herman,” I said, using the Babe’s middle name which was my way to continue to congenially bug him. “Just as in my line of work, hits not only don’t mean everything, but they can also be quite deceptive.”

What do you mean?”  Lou asked. “Getting on base is the first step to crossing home plate.”

I reminded Lou that the Babe had mentioned the frustration of leaving runners stranded at the end of an inning. “Similarly,” I said, “people who are considering advertising with Batteries Digest often don’t know the real difference between hits and page views. Many think that they are getting something better with more hits. For example, in June of this year, my web site showed 112,752 hits, but in reality, there were only 48,031 page views.  The additional 64,721 difference between hits and page views was obtained by additionally counting the loading of various tables and graphics within  any page view to make the hit count appear more impressive.  Actually, visitors had only looked at 48,031 pieces of information which was a true indication of the web site activity.

Now, it was the Babe’s turn to ride me.  “Good comment, Dogout.” He created the variation to the name ‘Dugout’ which would describe my continual presence off the field, but he had bent  it to ‘Dogout’ to match my species.The Babe, then added, “See, Lou, that’s what I mean; when I hit a homer, I get a run.  When the Web stats show a page view, somebody has actually requested seeing that page.  With hits you either can leave somebody stranded on base or you can get a ridiculous number which has little to do with the number of page views requested of your site.”

Babe got up to swing a few in the on-deck circle. He said, “Well guys, I have to go put one into the bleachers for my personal mascot, Ray Kelly.” Ray and his father were the Babe’s guests at the series that Day.

At this point, history continues with the Babe stepping into the batter’s box and pointing out toward center field.  Watching him, Lou said that he thought the Babe was indicating that he was going to park one in the center field bleachers. Cub catcher Gabby Hartnett thought Babe was pointing to the bleachers, too.  Charlie Root, the Cub picher, wasn’t happy because Babe had already poked a homer his previous time at bat. Fortunately, Charlie did not think Babe was pointing at the bleachers because he said later that if Babe had made such a bold statement, he (Charlie) would have dusted him off.

Babe didn’t like the first pitch and took a called first strike, but in the ensuing three pitches, one of which was another called strike, Babe repeated the pointing gesture to the bleachers.  Pitch No. 5 came humming into the plate, and it was Babe’s type of pitch so he parked the ball in the bleachers.He chuckled as he toured the bases, thinking to himself,  “the good Lord was with me.” Little Ray Kelly was convinced that the Babe had pointed to the bleachers as an indication of where the ball  would be parked, especially for him. Yes, it was scored as a hit, but it also counted as a homer which put the Yankees one run ahead. Yankee jersey number four (Lou) must have ‘gotten some religion’ in our ‘hit’ discussion because he next stepped up to the plate, forgot just a hit, and parked another one in the bleachers. Still nothing would detract from the Babe’s feat of calling the shot in front of 50,000 fans.

Baseball has created many legends because of guys like Babe and Lou, which give our young people wonderful role models.

Now, if I can only figure out how to hit a curve ball....

Tail wags \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ /,               TOBY