Monthly Archive

My cousin Mr. Friend invited me over to his house yesterday. He told me he had a new game he wanted me to play called Sacks. Sacks is basically a cross between horseshoes and basketball - it’s a lawn game where you throw your sack into a box with a hole it in. Sounds dumb, right? WRONG! It’s double-awesome! I think we played for about 19 hours.

Anyhow, Mr. Friend said our Aunt Fern in Cincinnati is a big Sacks fanatic - and that there’s a Sacks tournament this week. Not only that, but, as luck should have it, Cincinnati is also the birthplace of Sacks. So, we’re packing our Sacks and heading east! Stay tuned for more Sacks updates this week! Sacks!!!

Welp, I’ve been at Aunt Fern’s house all of 5 minutes and my head has already exploded. Mr. Friend and I walk in and have a million questions for her about Sacks. Aunt Fern’s face looks like she’s smelling a poot.

“What is this Sacks” she asks, “It sounds dirty!”

We clarify.

“Oh, dear! That’s a filthy name for it! We call it Corn-Hole here!”

CORN-HOLE! This game is called CORN-HOLE! And, that’s the less filthy alternative to Sacks? CORN-HOLE.

Anyway, Aunt Fern explains that CORN-HOLE was invented by the esteemed Cobb family of Hyde Park. They’re the ones hosting the big tournament on Friday. Mr. Friend and I turn to each other and make an unspoken vow - we are Sacks-aholics all the way; the game will always be Sacks to us!

Long story short: Aunt Fern’s house smells like meatloaf and mothballs. And we’re meeting the Cobbs of Hyde Park on Friday to get to the bottom of this Corn-Hole business.

It’s been a long, hard week of training for the big Sacks tournament at Aunt Fern’s. Not only did she work with us on our approach, our toss, and game etiquette- but we also learned the history of Cornhole- known in more civilized circles as Sacks.

Aunt Fern told us that Colonel Cobb and his colleagues in the Cincinnati Corn Mini-Militia passed time by throwing grenades into toilets. This was good times until a toilet exploded and then they decided that the rules of the game had to change. The Colonel’s wife, Mama Cobb, suggested throwing beanbags into boxes as safer alternative. Twenty minutes later - Cornhole was born!

The Cobbs (with their baby Niblet) host tournaments every year now. This year’s tournament was the biggest yet. The tournament was so large that Mr. Friend and I had to register in a Division F bracket, so we had to compete against the Senior Sackers, Tossers Named Tony and Muy Muy Man-bugs. In between games, the Cobbs introduced their new Cornhole mascot Bagsy. Aunt Fern took home 2nd place; she lost to a robot named C4PO. What a glorious day!

Remember a few months ago when I visited Meatville? Well, I became friends with a fella there by the name of HamSlice. I spent some time talking with HamSlice and he expressed an interest in travel reporting. So, I got him an internship at The Gold Coast Traveler. Most of the summer, HamSlice was in charge of filing and buying toupees for our boss Harry Molar. This week, we finally had an assignment for Hammy - the new off-Broadway shows in New York. And much to my chagrin, I had to go with him.

Here’s a quick bio on HamSlice - he’s a bit of a hayseed. Aside from his three months in Chicago, he’s never been anywhere but Meatville. He’s never been on an airplane, he’s never been to a Pilates class. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. So, when we got to New York, naturally he was overstimulated.

The first night there, we went to see the revival of What’s My Line at the Parkside Lounge on Houston St. My folks used to watch What’s My Line a lot - basically, you try to guess a mystery guest’s profession. Wackiness almost always ensues. We get called up on stage after while and some lady starts loving all over us.

Although I was exhausted by the end of the show, HamSlice was still going strong, now drunk with victory over his big city winnings, decides to stay. Long story short…I never saw him again. Until now that is… I got an envelope this morning with this photo.

I guess HamSlice met this young lady that night, fell in love and is now living in her East Side studio. Who can blame him?