Thursday, September 29, 2011

The End

Things change.

In 2003, I woke up feeling as if an irradiated sword had been shoved in my abdomen and twisted into my descending colon. Today, I have to paint something and do some paying work.

As sdu so aptly pointed out in the middle of (our) night, BG wrote that “the game is designed to break your heart”. True, I suppose. In 2003, BG, was a God of Letters. In 2011, he is the dead dad of the guy who is always the gay punchline on Saturday Night Live and the dead former president of the school where Ryan Lavarnway matriculated.

These Red Sox didn’t deserve to win. Maybe we did, the sick-fuck fans who followed every hairline fracture, HR Derby slideback, antique bookstore opening (sorry hb) and trips to Fla, API and whatnot. Also, the Laser Show might want to dial it back just a smidge. For me, I tapped out during the “Rain Delay” featuring Nick Cafardo (or was it Gordon Edes ) and Heidi (“if you can’t see my labia, you are not trying”) Watney. I skipped the John “I’m John Rish” Rish rain delay coverage on the former Dale Arnold Network. Five hours later, I learned The Truth. I posted a comment. I went right back to sleep.

Things change. As my friend, TourĂ© points out, it’s a “post-Black” world.
Try telling that to the Republican/Tea party honks, for whom “Obama Care” really means “Nigger Care”. And while we are at it, and I wish this was my original line, but it is not: “For the Greatest Generation, they sure said “nigger” a lot. Things change.
So, let’s move on. The sun has already come up. Bruce Chen will not be starting in Tampa at 4:07pm. John Lackey can go fucking dirty beasts whilst his cancer suffering wife reads the pre-nup again. [ Let’s face it, girls, he’s a catch.] Tito may get fired. He doesn’t deserve it. Theo may get fired. The Pink Hats will dissipate. Maybe I’ll be able to buy a ticket in May, and the gentleman of an ethnic persuasion (let’s just say they fared poorly in WWII) who stole the tickets I subsidized for ten years and then took them back may have to eat a pound or six of ticket shit.
I loved the Red Sox.

Things change.

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