The Mystery of Shoe Corner: "Thousands of shoes have been dumped there over the years, and residents can't figure out how or why."

Lithuania deploys fake police to slow traffic. I think they tried something like this in Washington DC also.

The Independent remembers the "tall tale of Little Tree and the Cherokee who was really a Klansman." A puzzling literary hoax which raises the classic question which always hovers around literary and artistic hoaxes: does it matter if it's a hoax if people enjoy it?

More about the Great Potato Play of Aug. 31, 1987, in which catcher Dave Bresnahan threw a peeled potato out into left field in order to lure a player from third base and tag him out. Bresnahan was fired as soon as the game ended, but his name has become immortal in baseball lore. A year after the event, fans paid one dollar and one potato as admission to celebrate Dave Bresnahan Day.Pictures of Bowman Field, Home of the Potato PlayDan Lewerenz's AP article remembering the potato playA Baseball America piece about the potato play, written a few weeks after it occurred.The Official Site of the Williamsport Crosscutters discusses the potato caper in detail.

The Independent explores the controversy brewing around Loch Ness over whether the local community should exploit their famous fishy monster.

The Sunday Telegraph writes about a recent, literary hoax: the case of Michael "Gambino" Pellegrino, a man who conned Simon and Schuster out of $500,000 by posing as a mafia mobster and selling them a story based on his life experience. It turned out that he was a crook, but was no mobster. (Requires Registration)

The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette remembers the Great Minor-League Potato Stunt:

Dan Lewerenz (AP): It's been 15 years since Bresnahan, then a backup catcher for the Class AA Williamsport Bills, pulled one of the most infamous stunts in baseball history, throwing a potato into left field to lure a runner off third base. The stunt ended his baseball career, made him an instant celebrity, even got his number retired. Yet to this day, Bresnahan is surprised by the continuing attention he gets -- all because of one lighthearted moment what seems like ages ago. "I didn't throw the potato to be famous or to make money," Bresnahan said in a telephone interview from Tempe, Ariz., where he has lived since his baseball career ended. Now 40, he works as a real estate broker. "I did it because I thought it would be fun." It happened on Aug. 31, 1987, with the Bills -- 27 games out of first place and seventh in the eight-team Eastern League -- playing host to the Reading Phillies. Bresnahan was catching the first game of a doubleheader when, with two out and a runner on third in the fifth inning, he hurled what looked like a baseball past the third baseman and into left field. The runner, Rick Lundblade, trotted home only to be tagged out at the plate. Lundblade was shocked. The crowd was confused. The Bills were laughing. Bresnahan had executed his trick to perfection.