1. Sunday, October 5, 2008

    i dont care any more 

    baseball schmaseball. life schmife. if the big one hits tomorrow, fine. if my house floods, who cares? mudslide – bring it onslide.

    kayne west and rihanna and TI sang and dance a few miles away from my house as i drank and drank and ate and drank at dodger stadium and am i bummed i wasnt there instead of at the scene of the crime? i would be if i cared but i dont care any more. its the only way. my truest is with another at the scene of the crime of ’84 and do i care? of course not. steve bartman and osama bin laden are living in finer luxury than i ever will and does it affect me? meh is what the kids say so meh is what i will say.

    people vote for the wrong reasons, people drive cars that are killing us, people shoot each other and run away, girls with perfect bodies and gorgeous hair have sex and refuse to get tested and do i give a rats booty? why should i. very little makes sense on this wide world of shorts. if i cared it would mean that i understood what there was to care about. it would mean that i knew what it was all about alfie. it would mean that i knew the way to san jose. it would say that i knew why the caged cubfan cheers.

    stock market falls when congress doesnt bail out the rich, stock market falls when congress does bail out the rich. cubs lose when they dont have a good team, cubs lose when they have the best team theyve ever had. theres pretty much no way some of us will find happiness. fleeting smiles perhaps, but nothing lasting. contact highs at best.

    people yelled at me because of the hat i was wearing. they said this beer line is for dodger fans only. i said, the way the cubs have been playing all you jackholes oughtta be buying ME beers. little did i know there was an adorable young college aged girl behind me wearing dodger regalia who consoled me and apologized for the more than rude treatment being hailed upon cub fans last night. only problem with sitting in the all you can eat section – the home team fans can hurtle as many hot dogs at you as they like, because until the 7th inning they can get their hands on as much ammo as they like. for free!

    in a regular stadium a man has to think twice before whipping a $7 hotdog at a guy (or a lady) in a cubs hat – in the right field bleachers at dodger stadium a man doesnt have to think at all: boo, aim, fire, laugh, point. one lady opened her mouth at the rainstorm of peanuts. huge mistake. everyone had peanuts and they threw em at her like fastballs. she sat down quickly.

    there was a time when cub fans didnt care. those were the best times. we’d go to the game, eat a baloney sandwich. drink some old styles. count the pretty girls in the stands on one hand. enjoy baseball for baseball sake, and go back to our so called lives. at some point being a cubfan became a way of life, and then life itself. it replaced religion. probably because wrigley was more beautiful than any church and harry was more interesting than any preacher.

    church is closed for the winter. the heart is closed forever.