OH, WHAT A TANGLED WEB
Poor old NBC. It originally had TV rights to two pro football games last Sunday as well as the World Series. Because of a time conflict, it had to let another network take over the earlier of the two football games, which CBS did. NBC died a little when it realized the football telecast would start an hour before the Series game, thus giving CBS the chance to lure away a substantial part of NBC's audience with—oh, this hurts—what really was NBC's game. Then it died a lot when the rains came and washed out the baseball game, leaving NBC, like the girl in the old song, with time on its hands and nowhere to go on a gloomy Sunday afternoon.
SMIFF VS. BALIMER
The ABC news commentator Howard K. Smith, who is based in Washington, last week had some fun on his program with neighboring Baltimore, which is nationally famous for Orioles, Colts, Bullets and crab cakes, and locally famous for the distinctive way it mangles the English language (SI, Oct. 10, 1966). After moaning about the repeated successes of Baltimore vis-�-vis Washington, going back to the War of 1812, Smith said, "I have hunted for something unfavorable to say about Baltimore and I've come up with this: they can't speak English there. They call their city Balimer, Marelin. They call garbage gobbidge. Legal is pronounced liggle. Paramour is their word for power mower. If you ask directions, remember that Droodle Avenue means Druid Hill Avenue. Clays means clothes. Doll means dial—the phone. Cancel means council, as in town cancel...and the team they meet in the Series is the Pittsburgh Parrots."
A Baltimore city hall press aide named John W. Eddinger tired off a reply to Smith: "We heard you owen the TV about Balimerese. What's so funny about a paramour to cut the grass, we'd like to ax? Anyway, air Awrioles won the Murican Lig, and we invite you to be air guest at air ball park when they padder the Pittsburgh Parrots in the World Series. Jawn us in Balimer, buoy. It'll give you a chance to excape D.C. oncet. Balimer is right next dewer, only a few molls from your hayome. Come owen over. Lissern to thousands of Balimoreans yell, 'Gayo, Awrioles, gayo!' "
And the city comptroller, Hyman A. Pressman, composed a poem:
"Harrid K. Smiff is a padder puff. He treated the city of Balimer rough. He oughter visit Balimer and mebbe try Our Marelin urshters or lemon moran pie.
If he falls on the payment or itches in his pants,
We'll give him a ride in our ambolance."
Good night, Harrid.
In Maryland, as in some other states, the payment of a special fee allows an automobile owner to obtain license plates imprinted with a single word of the owner's choosing. The veteran starter of races at Maryland's thoroughbred tracks elected to have his last name on his plates, which creates quite a stir when he tools around the highways. The starter's name is Eddie Blind.
Bob Lurie of Holliston, Mass. was sitting south in a duplicate bridge tournament. He and his partner had bid three no trump but Lurie, playing the hand, could count only eight sure tricks. As he studied the alternatives open to him, he suddenly felt ill. He lay down on the floor and one of his opponents at the table. Dr. Malcolm Colmer of Scarsdale, N. Y., examined him. The doctor felt that Lurie might be experiencing a mild cardiac irregularity and immediately called for an ambulance.