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Herkese Açık·7 üye

1 : I Couldn't Be A Hero, So I'm Working The Re...

Fast forward to November 11 2002, Mossy Grove, TN. The skies were so blue all day but I had a pit in my stomach when I seen the black clouds off in the distance. Poor Nana was at church that night along with a bunch of other family and my cousin Linda got up with her newborn to get a drink from the water fountain near the entrance. She looked up and saw the huge tornado coming across the parking lot. She ran and dove into the pews while the tornado moved and twisted the church off its foundation. Most of the congregation dove to the corner. That corner of the church was still there after it was over. We lost lives that night and in such a small county we felt every single loss, especially the small baby who didn't even get to start her life. Her papa was trying to rush her to safety from the mobile home they were in. Ironically, their mobile home wasn't touched but their truck was and both of them perished together. That town still bares the scars and the fear. All of us do really. I was once told we couldn't be hit by tornadoes because of the mountains. What a foolish thing to say, especially since Mossy Grove almost got hit again later but the skies showed mercy that day and settled down almost as if it took pity on us and our non-Walmart or McDonalds town. Lightening can and it will strike twice, three, four times in the same spot. The sad thing is most of us still aren't really prepared for another one. I'm working on a plan. That is the best thing to have here in Dixie Alley because the storms are getting worse. The April outbreak was a nightmare and I got stuck in a Food City that was about to close while there was another tornado warning for where I was. I was so froze in fear so my father drove to me just to let me follow him home. His truck was struck by lightening on his way. Anyway, stay prepared people and most importantly stay informed. I listen to the Weather Channel and am grateful. My 6 year old son is a meteorologist in the making. He loves weather as I do and can tell you how any storm happens, hurricanes.. little feller he is.

1 : I Couldn't Be a Hero, so I'm Working the Re...

Johnson said that the dogs aren't just U.S. government property. "These dogs are our partners. I remember trying to get into the K-9 program, and I had a human partner working in law enforcement at the time who commented to me that he couldn't believe I would choose to work with a dog over a human partner, a big strong guy as a partner."

UMPIRE: Play ball!(HEAVING)(THUDDING)MAN: I got it! I got it!(PANTING)BOY: Here we go!UMPIRE: Strike!(HEAVING)(CROWD CHEERING)BOY: Oh, come on.Why do I always get stuck with the loser?BOY 1: He stinks.BOY 2: Darn it!BOY 1: Too bad.BOY 2: Hustle! Hustle!BOY 3: Yankee Irving again!BOY 4: (CHUCKLING) Tough luck.BOY 3: Why do we always end upwith Yankee?Excuse me.(HEAVING)I got it!Whoa!You show them, Warbuckles!Way to run it out!(HEAVING)- Go, go, go, go!- Run, Philly, you can do it!Come on, Freckles!Keep the ride going, buddy!- BOY: Next batter!- Me?BOY 2: Oh, man!BOY 3: Tough luck!(SNICKERS)Irving, here's your big shot.This is just like Game Sevenof the '26 Series. Babe came to the...Yeah, yeah.Listen, you're not Babe Ruth, okay?Now look, you've got no strike zone,so he's guaranteed to walk you.- UMPIRE: Batter up!- Just don't swing.- He's gonna whiff. Bring it in.- Easy out, easy out.- Let him walk you.- Don't swing at it, Irving!Yeah, don't swing!If I don't swing,how are you gonna know I can hit?(LAUGHING)BOY: Don't swing, Irving!BOY 3: Hey, batter, batter, batter,hey, batter, batter, swing!- UMPIRE: Strike one!- What did I just tell you?- BOY: Come on.- You've got no strike zone!(HEAVING)- UMPIRE: Strike two!- Just take the pitch!BOY: Don't swing!BOY 2: Don't swing, Irving!BOY 4: Don't swing at it, Irving!ANNOUNCER. ; Now batting, number one,Yankee Irving!(THUDDING)Ah!Nice job, whiff.That's it.You're never playing on my team again.BOY: Give it up.BOY 2: Go home.BOY 3: Yeah, don't come back.BOY 4: Come on, let's get out of here.BOY: Loser.WOMAN: Honey! Dinnertime!(GRUNTS)(GLASS SHATTERING)Huh?Hmm.(HEAVING)Hmm.Guess nobody wants youin the game either.(BICYCLE BELL RINGING)Hey, Irving, you stink!(BELL RINGING)(LAUGHING)ANNOUNCER. ; The Movietone News.Bringing you the newsjust days after it's happened.In sporting news, the Yankees continuetheir splendiferous winning streak.It's Game Three of the World Series.Bottom of the ninth,the Yankees down by three,bases loaded,Babe Ruth steps up to the plate.Will the Sultan of Swat save the day?You betcha!(CHEERING)So what's Napoleon Cross,owner of the Chicago Cubs,going to do now?With his best bat, Darlin', in his hands,Babe Ruth is unstoppable.CROSS: Babe Ruth. Babe Ruth.Babe Ruth and his best bat, Darlin'.He's everywhere!Every newsreel, every newspapertalks about Babe Ruth.Look at all this stuff! Babe Ruth sippy cup,Babe Ruth silver dollars,Babe Ruth underpants,obviously for the larger child.What's he got that I haven't got?He's got a World Series trophy!And I want one!- Is that too much to ask?- No, not at all.Why don't you put me back in, Mr. Cross?I'll help you win that trophy.I'm working on a new pitch. I call it...(CHUCKLING) Are you ready?The booger ball.(SNORTING)No, Lefty,even with your most outrageous cheatingyou're no match for Babe Ruth.Cheating? Me? Babe Ruth's the cheater.I bet he's got some luckyvoodoo charm or something.That's cheating.(COUGHING)You're right, Lefty.Babe Ruth does have a lucky charm.What is it, what is it, what is it?It's his bat.So what do we do?I'll tell you what we do.We take away his bat. Let's do the math.- Going into the light.- Babe without bat is nothing.Without that bat, he's just big and fat!(LAUGHING)(COUGHING)Put that on a T-shirt.(LAUGHING)Yeah, I like it.It's good stuff, it's good stuff.Only one problem.How we gonna get Babe Ruth's lucky bat?- Not "we," you.- But, Mr. Cross, I...Get me that bat. And I thinkthe only way to get it is to steal it.Otherwise, you're out!- MOM: Hi, honey, how was your day?- Hey, Mom.- Is Dad home yet?- Not yet.- He's working late.- Again?- Dinner will be ready soon.- Not hungry.(SNIFFLING)BOY. ; Why do I always get stuckwith the loser?BOY2.; Yankee Irving again!(LAUGHING)MOM. ; He's working late.BOY. ; That's it.You're never playing on my team again.BOY. ; You're not Babe Ruth, okay?BOY. ; Why do we always get stuckwith Yankee?(GASPING)(GRUNTS)(KNOCKING)You think you could take your thumbout of my eye?Whoa!(SCREAMING)(GASPING)Huh?What?- Are you talking?- I am.One smart fella, he felt smart.Two smart fellas, they felt smart.Three smart fellas, they all felt smart.I'm talking.Wait a second. Where are you going?Back to the sandlot,where I was peacefully decomposing.(HEAVING)Hey, watch it there, grabby hands!Don't make me go allcrazy eight ball on you.(HEAVING)(GASPING)(HEAVING)Whoa!Where did you go?Hey, Fuzzy, how do I get out of here?- This kid is nuts.- I just wanna talk.And I just wanna leave.(GRUNTING)Hey, genius, it just so happensyou left a gaping hole in the infield.Sayonara.Your living room is a little cramped.And dark.(EX CLAIMS)Huh?(WHOOPING)I'm rollin' in style!Whoa!Nobody gets their mitts on Screwie.I'm going back to the sandlot.Ouch!Why can't I break a window?Every other ball can break a window.Gotcha.- What's going on in here?- Mom, look, a talking baseball.He never gets tired of that one.Oh, my gosh, a talking baseball.Well, I think I hear the meatloaf talking.- It's saying, "Yankee, time for dinner."- Talking meatloaf?Food can't talk. Except for beans.They can make themselves heard.- Go get cleaned up.- She can't hear you?I don't know. Let's see. Help!I've been kidnapped by a deranged child!Yup, you're right. She can't hear.(SQUEAKING)Please don't skimp on the soap.You smell like a week-old hot dog.Oh!(SPLASHING)(GURGLING)Kid, quit it.That's my protective coating of dirt.(BUBBLING)I wish Dad was here.Oh, sweetheart, you knowhe's got to work the extra shifts.I know, but I really need to see him.Tell you what,why don't you take him his dinner?- Really?- Just this once.You know you're not supposedto be there while he's working.Thanks, Mom.Great. So just drop me in the sandloton the way to see your daddy, and...Hey, hey, what are you doing?YANKEE: Making sureyou don't go anywhere.- Not the underpants drawer!- Don't worry. They're clean.(BALL BOUNCING)SCREWIE: Not anymore.(SQUEAKING)YANKEE: Wow!(EX CLAIMS)Now batting for the New York Yankees,number one, Yankee Irving!Hey, Dad.What are you doing here?I wanted to see you. I brought you dinner.Great. What are we having?Mom's mystery meatloaf.Hmm.Meatloaf. Let's start with dessert.So, what's new?Dad, you're not gonna believe this.Oh, no? Try me.I found a talking baseball.Oh, really? Does he have a name?(CHUCKLING)I call him Screwie.Oh, yeah? Where'd you find it?At the sandlot.Did you play ball today?Yeah, but I don't thinkI wanna play anymore.Hey, I thought you loved baseball.Well, I think I'm in a slump.Hmm.You know, I was watching the teampractice the other day, and it struck me,here are guys who make a livingplaying baseball.They play every day, and even on the dayafter they lose a game,they're still standing at the plateswinging that bat.And you knowhow they got to be so good?They just keep swinging?(CHUCKLING)Come on, I got something to show you.(CLICKING)Babe Ruth!YANKEE: Is that Darlin'?DAD: (CHUCKLING) Yup. Sure is.Babe had that bat custom madethree years ago.That was the first yearhe hit 50 home runs.That's right. People say she was madefrom a thousand-year-old treegrowing on the side of Mount Olympus.I'm pretty sure it was made in Kentucky.Hey, come on, pal, we should head home.Oh, come on, Dad,just another minute, please?I tell you what, you can stay herefor a few more minuteswhile I put my things away.- Meet you at the back gate. Deal?- Yeah.Yankee, don't touch anythingand make sure you close the doorwhen you leave.I promise.Thank you, thank you, thank you.(DOOR CLOSING)- You! What are you doing?- Nothing.- I was just helping my dad mop up.- Scram!(PANTING)What are you looking at?Here you go!(SNORING)Kid! Kid! Hey, kid! Wake up!You're turning me into a spitball.(EX CLAIMING)(YAWNING)(BREAKING WIND)How long you been takingtrombone lessons?(STRETCHING)Good morning.(YAWNING)I thought you were giving that up.My dad says you should nevergive up something you love.- Has he ever seen you bat?- Hey!So, you know a lot about baseball, right?I mean, since you are one.I know one thing about baseball, it stinks.And you saw me play baseball, right?Make that two things.It stinks and so do you.Well, then maybeyou can give me some pointers.I could point you to another hobby.How about marbles or kite watching?You can watch people fly kites.How can you hate baseball?You are a baseball.Kid, look,baseball's only gonna break your heart.Did you know I made it to the majors?- You were in the majors?- Oh, yeah.I remember it like it was yesterday.Sun was shining,forty thousand fans screamingas I'm tossed to the mound.It was like a dream come true.All I ever wanted was to be home run ball.And on the very first pitch, crack,I'm on my way going, going,foul.That's right, kid, foul ball.Right out of the park.Dreams and everything vanished.And did anyone ever come look for me?No. They left me out there to rot.So believe me when I tell you,baseball is a field of broken dreams.Trust me, I know.(KNOCKING)(DOOR OPENING)- DAD: Mr. Robinson.- Good morning, Stanley. Mrs. Irving.ROBINSON: I'm sorry to bother youso early,but we have a real problem here.DAD: What sort of a problem, sir?- ROBINSON: This is Officer Bryant.- Hello.ROBINSON: Someone broke intothe Yankees' locker room.- MOM: Oh, no.- Babe Ruth's bat is missing.BRYANT: You were the only one therewith the keys, Mr. Irving.MOM: What are you implying?BRYANT: Did you see anyone elsein the locker room last night?- Wait. There was a security guard.- DAD: Yankee...Dad, after you left the locker rooma security guard came inand told me to get out.- You took your son into the locker room?- It was just for a minute.Do you mind if I look in his room?- Excuse me, my son is not a thief.- ROBINSON: Irving.Thank God you're here. This kid is crazy.First he put me in the underpants drawer,then he pushed me underwater,then he forced me to eat meatloaf.- ROBINSON: This is a disaster.- Meatloaf!- ROBINSON: The Series is only half over.- Are you listening?What am I gonna tell the Babe? We needto pack all the gear for Chicago today.The bat's not here.Son, if you know what happenedto the bat, you need to come clean now.- But that's what I'm trying to tell you.- Stanley, this is a real mess.I... I know, Mr. Robinson.As the General Managerof the New York Yankees,I have no other choice. You're fired.- Fired?- Mr. Robinson, please.Stanley, someone has to be heldresponsible. It was your shift.If Babe's bat is found, then I'll reconsider,but, until then, I'm sorry.Stanley, what are we gonna do?We're gonna be out on the streets.- I'll get another job. I'll get two jobs.- There are no jobs.Yankee, you were alone in thatlocker room. Now the bat's missing.- Stanley...- Emily,there was no security guard on duty.Yes, there was. Maybe he took the bat.That's enough.Son, what happened to the bat?I don't know.- Go to your room.- Why don't you believe me?Go to your room.SCREWIE: What was all that?What's with the coppers?- Someone stole Babe Ruth's bat.- Good.- Screwie, my dad got fired.- Not good.Why would someone stealBabe's lucky bat?The Yankees are gonna losethe Series for sure.Whoa, kid, you're watchingway too many newsreels.That lucky bat stuffis a bunch of malarkey.How do you know?You were only in for one pitch.Ooh, that hurt.That guard had to take the bat.Why would a Yankees security guardsteal Babe Ruth's bat?Now, if it were a Chicago Cubssecurity guard, that I could believe.Wait a minute.(EX CLAIMING)SCREWIE: Hey, hey, hey, I can't breathe.I can't breathe.I still can't breathe.Hey, I knew I'd seen that face before.(SIGHS)What are you babbling about?The security guard was Lefty Maginnis,pitcher for the Chicago Cubs.Lefty's the biggest cheaterwho ever stepped on a mound.Lefty stole the bat so Babe can't hit.The Yankees will lose the Series.I've got to tell Dad.Yeah, and don't forget to mentionthat you heard itfrom your friendly neighborhoodtalking baseball.Kid, this is just a crazy theoryand even if it were true,no one's gonna believe you.You don't have any proof.- Then I'll get some proof.- How?Most of the Cubs are heading for Chicago.What're you gonna do?Sneak out of the house,go down to Penn Station,and search every single passenger?- Right.- Oh, no.If we go to Penn Station,we may catch him there.I got to learn to keep my mouth shut.Whoa! Oh!This can't work. You're just a kidand this is the real world,not some fantasy land- filled with gumdrop fairies and...- You're coming with me.Yeah, I think maybe not,but thanks for the invite.Screwie, I have to do this for my dad.All right, don't look at me...Don't look at me like that.Stop it, stop...Okay, fine, let's make a deal.I'll help you to find the batif you take me back to the sandlot,- and leave me to rot in peace. Deal?- Deal.Hmm.(HEAVING)Oh, whoa!SCREWIE: What are we doing?What are we doing?YANKEE: Uh-oh.SCREWIE: What do you mean by "uh-oh"?(YELLS)SCREWIE: Uh-oh! Uh-oh!(GASPING)- Okay, we're fine.- I'm okay.SCREWIE: Not fine!(YELLS)My head! My butt! My head! My butt!(YANKEE YELLS)(YELLING)(YELLING)Oh!- So far, so good.- Are you okay?- You were screaming pretty loud.- I wasn't screaming.I was laughing.Ha! See? Ha, ha, ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Laughing.SCREWIE: There's a million people here.How we gonna find Lefty?Just keep looking, all right?CONDUCTOR: Flyer service to Niagara.Track 18.(CHATTERING)YANKEE: We gotta hurry.Why don't we come back in 10 years?When you're taller.Make way, there, folks.Coming through, coming through.(HEAVING)See anything yet?SCREWIE: I see a sock, a candy wrapper,a Life Saver covered in lint.- Hmm. Pineapple.- Screwie. This is no time to fool around.Now do you see anything?I see thousands of peoplegoing about their business,none of which is ours.There's only one train to Chicago,so Lefty will have to be on it.- We're gonna stake it out.- "Stake it out"?What, what, what,now you're with the FBI?WOMAN ON PA. ; All aboardfor the County Peabody Express.SCREWIE: Better off rotting upin that sandlot.I got to get stuckwith J. Edgar Hoover Junior, here.How are we gonna cover the whole train?There's like 50 cars and 100 passengers,and... Holy Mackerel!Bingo. That's got to be Babe's bat.(EX CLAIMING)(SPITTING)(LAUGHING)Okay, we found him. I'll give you that.But anything could be in that case.A trombone, a wooden leg, a pogo stick.Well, there he goes,so I guess we'll never know. Too bad.- Come on, boys.- All aboard!SCREWIE: Hey, wait, wait.Where are you taking me?MAN: Take a head countwhen you get inside, okay?(GASPING)- I think that's him.- Let's call the cops.I'm not sure. Take a closer look.- Wow!- Is it him?There's a horse jumping off a diving board.Wait, I think that's Eleanor Roosevelt.Screwie, is it Lefty or not?Take a quick look as you roll yourself back.Roll myself back from...Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!Ow, what a headache! Nope. No.Hello.No.(SCREECHING TO A HALT)(INHALING)Did you see him?(EXHALING)Third row, aisle seat.Where are you going?(SHUSHING)(GASPING)(HEAVING)(GROANING)Good. You got it,now take me back to the sandlot.Oh, no!(GASPS)Huh?(DOOR OPENING)(DOOR CLOSING)Uh-oh.(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING)Oh, rats!Oh, no!Good. That thing's brought usnothing but trouble.Hey, you!Stop right there.(YELLS)SCREWIE: I'm a ball.I'm probably gonna survive this,but you, you're a squishy little kid.Whoa.Screwie.(EX CLAIMING)Yankee, help me!Give me back my box, kid.(BELL RINGING)(EX CLAIMS)Huh?(PANTING)Oh!(EX CLAIMING)(THUDDING)Huh?(BELL RINGING)Oh, yeah, the kid's still got the moves.Sir, I need to see your ticket!(GROANING)(EX CLAIMS)(SCREAMING)Whoa!(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING)Whoa!Whoa!Whoa!Kid, you're gonna get such a time-out.(PANTING)(GASPS)The fun's over, you little punk.(GLASS SHATTERING)Screwie, hang on!(HEAVING)Gotcha!Hey, you...Hit him! Use your elbow.(EX CLAIMS)Kicking is good.(CLANGING)Oh, that can't feel good.Doesn't really hurt so bad.Wait. Yes, it does hurt.Here it comes. Oh, yeah.(YELLING)Oh!(BELL RINGING)(GRINDING TO A HALT)But I need to get to New York.New York? That way.You can buy yourself a ticket inside.(WHISTLE BLOWING)(DOOR CLOSING)SCREWIE: Oh, great.No tickets, no train, no sandlot.What could be worse?Well, at least I got the bat.(SCREAMING)(PANTING)(SCREAMING)- Oh, here she goes again.- Help me, somebody. Help me.(SOBBING) I'm not supposed to be here.Help me!SCREWIE: Whoa, sister, relax.You're a hunk of wood,not the Hope Diamond.Do you know who I am?I am Darlin', honey. I'm the Babe's bat.Born of a 1000-year-old treeon the side of Mount Olympus.Struck by lightning,and carved by monks usingthe horn of a unicorn.Since when do monks make baseball bats?- Are you calling me a liar?- No, of course not.In fact, I was madefrom the hide of Seabiscuit,and stitched together by Betsy Ross!Screwie was in the Major Leagues, too.He'd have been a home run ball,if he hadn't fouled out.- Oh.- Kid, don't.A foul ball? Really?Well, isn't that impressive.I've hit thousands of guysthat were better than you.You know, you bats are all prima donnas.You only come outthree or four times a game,carried to the plate and back."Oh, don't let me lay in this dirt.Where's my batboy?"Well, here's what you know.I don't need anybody to carry me around.I can handle myself. Put me down.- Put me down!- Whoa!YANKEE: Okay.So long, farm team.Excuse me.Two.You know something?If you thinkI'm rolling all the way to Chicago,you've got another thing coming.You may pick me up.Lf, in fact, you're rescuing me,then I assume that you are returning meto my rightful owner, Mr. Babe Ruth,who, as I'm sure you're aware,is currently in Chicagoplaying in the World Series.You have heard of the World Series,haven't you,


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