Parades are great and all. There are tons of em every day. Ants in my backyard and the birds above. Parades and more parades. Old people loitering outside the shopping mall. Teenage girls and their laptops, the downtown business crowd. Many parades. Gay parades. Whiner parades. Parades, parades, parades.
The faceless, lonely mobs….but I’ll stop right there before I get too self righteous and just say, I’m the warden of my own damn prison and Depression is not on the menu today. This might take hard work, but it’s not there. I scanned the itinerary and the only item under D is Dig my own turf. Depression is nowhere to be found.
I’m not celebrating the Nats clinching the National League East last night. So what if it’s the first time the Montreal Expos franchise has ever clinched a real division. Yeh, they did it back in 1981 but that doesn’t count That was the split strike season bologneeee.
And in 1994 they had the best record in baseball blah blah blah before another strike squashed the glory, but bottom line….The Expos never won crap. There’s a few fans who still cry and whine about the good ol’ days or how major league baseball screwed over the city, but no one really cared. They never went to games..And so the Nationals won and huh, what? Yeh, hockey starts next month.
Well, what about the Orioles? They clinched the AL East or what about the Canaheimel Angels? I think they clinched the AL West? There’s too many teams in the playoffs to care, but I bet champagne parties are fun. I never turn down a free drink; can’t be to picky about my company. I ain’t no sob. I hang out at the Chinese Community Center, watch people play ping pong and even play if someone nods my way; hands me a paddle; cures loneliness; for a few hours anyway.
Ah yes, the big parades and hype…every day, the eye shadow in eyes and lipstick on faces, the plates of corn beef hash slung across a diner table. Everywhere parades. Life is beautiful. It’s the system that sucks.
And outside the hype of another pair of tight jeans and far away from the whiners, complainers, and victims, there is Jose Altuve smashing Craig Biggio’s all time Astros single season hit record. I think it was 211.
I like numbers. I like Jose Altuve. He’s listed at 5 feet, 6 inches, but he’s no poodle and no Hitler or Mussolini and all the other little annoying Napoleons of the world bitching or even worse; offering serious and simple solutions at prices way too high.
Freddie Patek was listed at 5 feet 5 inches. Who cares? This isn’t a contest.
Altuve doesn’t blame the world because he ‘s 3 feet tall. Neither did Patek. Altuve just shuts up and well, he kicks ass. Congrats Jose Altuve and congrats to the Brewers who postponed the red turd celebration; beating the Cards in game 1 of their 3 game series 3-2 in 12 innings at Busch stadium.
Hector Gomez hit a bloop single over the head of fat first baseman Matt Adams driving in Carlos Gomez in the 12th, maybe the first time in Brewers history that a Gomez has ever driven in a Gomez.
The Brewers are 79-72.