Here are a few things that have been on my mind lately:
Steroids: Am I the only one homicidally bored by the great fucking three-ring legal circus that has sprung up around professional baseball? Am I the only one more than mildly concerned about the state of our legal profession--from the lowliest ambulance chaser right straight on up the the top of Capitol Fucking Hill--in that it can find no better or nobler jurisprudential exercise than to niggle over the bylaws of what is, ultimately, at very bottom--and Americans, I'm sorry, but someone needed to say it--just a goddamned game? I'm sorry, but did I miss a memo or something? When was I supposed to have started giving a shit whether or not a bunch of overpaid testosterone farms walk around jacked to the gills on poorly-purified bull hormones? I do not. I don't care if the coach steps onto the field during the seventh-innning stretch and personally injects the entire outfield with the metabolic equivalent of liquid oxygen. Not only do I think it is a waste of time to attempt to legislate the use of steroids, not only do I think they should be permitted, I think they should be fucking mandatory. You heard me. It seems to me this wouldn't be an issue save for the complaints of the three guys in the majors who aren't using. Now, never let it be said that I'm not a proponent of fair play. So let's even the playing field. From now on, let's just all agree that no one sets foot on a major-league field without testing positive for some kind of performance-enhancing chemical. If you ask me, chemical augmentation doesn't go far enough. Frankly, with some players' salaries in the seven- and even eight-figure range annually, if I'm going to a game, I expect to see some fucking cyborgs in the dugout. And what of those players who wish to maintain the sanctity of human athletic competition and feel that the use of drugs tarnishes the spirit of the game? Pay 'em thirty grand a year for the next four or five years, ground their Learjets, and see how long they stay noble. Else, they can get a real job, like everyone else.
I repeat: Just a fucking game.
Hockey: In a similar vein, I wish to go on record as officially rescinding my status as a fan of NHL hockey. Somewhere along the way, my friends, we have lost sight of the fact that sports exist solely for the entertainment of the public, not as entities in and of themselves which we, the public, are bound to support financially. If they thought they weren't getting paid well before, I wonder how they'll feel after a gameless season? Yet another example of the consequences of artificially elevating a hairball confederation of mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging nimrods with only one marketable skill to the social status of heads-of-state. Greedy motherfuckers. Fuck 'em. I'll read a book.
The World Bank: I haven't decided just where I stand on the World Bank as an entity, but I do think that it provides opportunity for some interesting commentary on the state of our fetid little global community. After all, in what shape must we be as a world that, for at least one brief moment, appointing an aging Irish rockstar to the headship of a powerful, international fiduciary institution seemed like the better of two choices?
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