"Life is too short to be diplomatic. A man's friends should not care what he does or says. Those who are not his friends, to hell with 'em." Ty Cobb

Recently I was invited to the home of an amateur channeler, one of those new age goofs who claims to be able not only to communicate with the dead, but to act as a mouthpiece for the dead. I discovered that "Emma Royde" (her real name) lived in a comfortable apartment in a midwestern American city. She had never been further south than Memphis, so had no acquaintance with Royston and its environs. Which made what followed that much more strange. It didn't help that I had an unexpected companion.

Ed:  Here we are.  One-Ten Grant Place.

Bill:  I don't know why I'm here.

Ed:  Nobody twisted your arm.  Careful, or I'll send you over to Loring
Park.  You drop your keys over there, you'll need to kick 'em over to
Hennepin Avenue before you can bend over to pick 'em up.

Bill:  Very funny, woman.  I mean, I don't know what I'm doing here with
you.

Ed:  Makes two of us.  I seem to recall something about Memorial Day weekend,
Beth telling you to go lose yourself or she'd help you slip the surly bonds
of earth and touch the face of God, something like that...hold on, this is
a security building.  She'll need to buzz us in.

Bill:  Ain't a security system made I can't get around...

Ed:  Billy, please...

Bill:  So, what's here?

Ed:  A channeler who says she can help me talk to Ty Cobb.

Bill:  He's dead, ain't he?

Ed:  Only time I saw you before this, you didn't look any too special.

Bill:  Don't push your luck.

Ed:  Here.  Come on.  And behave yourself.  Emma Royde's pretty sensitive
about all this...

Bill:  Emma Royde!  Damn!  Where's she live, Apartment H?  She a
proctologist?

Ed:  Will.  You.  Shut.  Up.

Bill:  Hell.  No.

Ed:  Why me?

Quickly we were seated in Emma Royde's apartment.  The lady found channeling
to Tyrus very uncomfortable, and she wanted to make it fast.  I suspected, also,
that our hostess was attracted to the sixth Village Person.  The session 
began promptly, and while no overt physical changes were observed in Emma,
the vocal difference was remarkable.

Ty:  Let's get this show the hell on the road!  I'm a busy man!

Bill:  Hah!  Doing what?

Ty:  Beatin' hell out of Frank Sinatra at five card stud, that's what.
Who's that with you?

Ed:  Bill Strannix.  Billy, this is the Great...Ty Cobb.  Ty, this is the
Great...Billy Strannix.  I think I'm going to be sick.

Billy:  Shut up.

Ty:  Say, weren't you on the Missouri there a while back?  Beat the fee  
simple sons of bitches at their own game for a while, didn'tcha, boy!

Bill:  I almost had the...ow, dammit, woman!

Ed:  Could you two not bother to start up the mutual admiration society, 
please.  I have lots of questions for Ty and Emma tires out easily.  Billy, just
shut your piehole, willya?

Ty:  Woman, I'll talk to you when I'm ready.  Billy, control your monkey.

Ed:  MONkey?!

Bill:  Just a minute there, Tyrus.  Girl, shut your head, I'll get the old
b...

Ty:  Say.  Friend o' yours here, Strannix, name's Krill.  Wants me to tell you
he shoulda kicked your ass when he had a chance.

Bill:  You tell him if you can't follow orders, you're a casualty in my
business.  And he looked like hell in a dress.

Ed:  Oh, God...

Bill:  Quit whinin.

Ed:  I'm not whining, you animal.  You're ruining my interview!

Bill:  Ty, she's gonna start bellyaching on me here...could you throw 
her a minute or two?

Ty:  I did agree to an interview.  All right, Miss, fire away.

Ed:  Speaking of fire...where are you right now, Ty?

Ty:  Well, it's hot, but I've been warmer.  Billy, you ever play pro-ball?

Bill:  No, never wanted to.  Played football in highschool, though...

Ed(mutters):  You mean reform school...

Ty:  Football.  No brains there, just run into t'other guys.  I'll bet
you'd have been a hell of a center fielder.

Bill:  That was your position, wasn't it?

Ty:  Damn right.  I was the greatest center fielder ever to play the game.

Ed:  Ty...sorry to interrupt but, since you've gone on to...wherever you
are, have you managed to talk to your daddy?

Ty:  Yes, little lady, I have.  My Father was very proud of me.  He allowed
that I might have been more of a gentleman along the way...

Bill:  How far did bein' a gentleman ever get you?

Ty:  Not as far as bein' a sonofabitch did.

Ed:  Ty, was the movie made of your life starring Tommy Lee Jones
at all accurate?

Ty:  Too soft.  He was too damn soft.  And he couldn't bat worth a 
damn.

Bill:  Aw, Ty, don't be so hard on the old boy.  He's only a damn old actor.

Ty:  If they were gonna find somebody to play me in the movies, why didn't
they get a real actor?  Like...Gary Cooper?

Ed: He's dead, Ty.

Ty:  I'll be damned.  I haven't seen him.  When did he go?

Ed:  1961.

Ty:  What about Jimmy Stewart?  He looked like a fool in 'The Monty 
Stratton Story" but he'd have looked damn good as me.

Ed:  Dead, Ty.  And too old for the movie. 

Bill:  You wanna give the Tomster credit, Ty...there's people out in
Hollyweird right now ask 'how high' when that boy says jump.  Said
it was typecasting, puttin' him in your life story.

Ty:  I'll be the judge of that.  He looked like he was playin' pattycake
during that fight, I never pushed at a man's chest, I slugged him right
in the mush.  But I will say this, he took care of that Eye-talian band-
leader.

Ed:  Ty...please.  Emma's getting tired.

Ty:  So am I.  Tired of questions.  Why don't you run along now, girl,
and leave men talk.

Ed: Show me some men and I might.

Bill:  Say what?

Ed:  One's a stiff and one's an overgrown juvenile delinquent.  I said 
show me some men and I might.

This was probably as close as I came to physical damage.  Bill won't
tolerate having his testosterone level challenged, and Ty was roaring
like a wounded bull.  Something in Emma took hold at this point, and I
must say it was probably lucky for me that it did.  She was able to dismiss
Tyrus, and toss Billy and me out on our ears before we could trash her
apartment.  Emma has declined to return my phone calls, evidently she has
no further desire to let Tyrus reach out and touch anyone.  Billy has
returned to his lair in Lubbock, presumably to undermine governments and
pick on unsuspecting females from what amounts to the Brat-cave in
his basement.  I regret not actually being able to talk to Ty for three minutes
in succession, but I have to be satisfied with knowing that I tried.