Aug 28, 2012
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This is based loosely on the experience of Baseball Prospectus writer/podcaster/managing partner Kevin Goldstein. He became fascinated with his weird neighbors, who were constantly throwing out mattresses on trash day – until they were evicted today. Nobody ever saw mattresses coming in, but they always saw them on the curb waiting for the garbage truck.
If you’re a baseball fan and you haven’t checked out the Baseball Prospectus site, take a moment to visit. it’s a great site. And if you enjoy your baseball information with a heavy dose of pop culture, sarcasm, and non-baseball related content, be sure to check out the Up and In podcast, which often weighs in at a hefty 2+ hours.
“Another mattress!” Kevin exclaimed.
“How many mattresses is that?” Jason asked, half an internet away in Brooklyn.
“It has to be like ten? They’ve put one out for the trash almost weekly for the past three months. What are they doing that causes them to throw away that many mattresses?”
“It could be a brothel,” replied Jason helpfully. “You know, the average life span of a mattress is probably based on an average of eight hours of use per night, with the assumption that most of the time will be spent sleeping. If they’ve got a happening brothel, they might be keeping those beds active 24 hours per day. All that rolling around and groping is probably pretty hard on the springs.”
“I think I’d notice the traffic if there was a brothel next door.”
“Maybe there’s underground parking with direct access to the inside. Valet parking, maybe – guys with the funny little hats.”
“It’s DeKalb, Jason. There’s not an underground parking deck with valet parking.”
“Maybe left over from the underground railroad.”
“It’s probably something mundane. They’re probably a distributor for some knockoff mattress company, and it’s cheaper to just dump the defective mattresses on the curb.”
“That’s probably it,” Jason agreed. “They’re probably selling Snerta and Stealy mattresses on the internet. Wonder if they can use one of those fixed rate boxes from the postal service?”
Kevin rolled his eyes, but it was lost on Jason and the listeners. Time to shift the conversation back to baseball.
The stocky man turned his head and yelled int the back room. “Hey, Chas. Come listen to this.”
The old man grumbled, but pulled back the lever on the recliner and slowly stood up. “This had better be good, Harris,” he said and he ambled toward the front room.
Harris was busy doing something with the newfangled computer. As Chas sat down, Harris hit a button and the computer began to talk.
At the end of the segment, Harris hit a button to stop the audio.
“Do you think it’s him?”
“Certainly sounds like him. He always did go through mattresses as often as some people change underwear. That massive bulk coupled with the insomnia – that man could demolish a new mattress in a few days.”
“What next?” asked Harris.
“We’re off to DeKalb. Grab an umbrella and your Glock.”