I just realized that I messed up and typed “Salvadore” instead of “Salvador” in the title of this episode. Oh well.
I grew up in a harsh arctic land where sports such as baseball did not exist, so letting The Count have his Tony Gwynn punchline was mostly just to keep him happy.
I wrote this particular episode a few months ago, when Tony Gwynn was merely a PROSPECTIVE Hall-of-Famer. Growing up in San Diego in the late 80s, Tony Gwynn rated on the schoolyard hierarchy of demi-gods somewhere above M.C. Hammer and somewhere below Gallagher (I remember a friend solemnly wishing that Gallagher would come to his house, kick his father’s ass, and then, by right of conquest, claim him as his own son.)
I’m pretty sure Gwynn could have claimed El Cajon as his own personal fiefdom had he so chosen. However, Washington-like, he turned down his rightful kingship and settled down to a quiet life of deep spiritual contemplation. I still have my 1983 Topps Gwynn rookie lying around here somewhere (the one where his butt dominates 73% of the frame), and I think part of me believes that it protects the household from peddlingsmen.
– DvL
http://www.ftg-comic.com/2007/02/13/index.php
What caused Salvador Dali to vow vengeance upon the rational world?
How can he be stopped?
What does Tony Gwynn have to do with any of this?
Just one episode away from the new addition to Team Frederick, and the
conundrums keep piling up. When all around you turns to dream, whom can you
trust? When alligators save accountants, who will save the world?
I still don’t get the salted almonds joke.