The Bullshit Disaster continues.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Shuffle and deal, motherfucker.

My blind allegiance to baseball is wearing thin. I have been informed, in an e-mail buried in a heap of junkmail, that the villainous assholes at MLB.com, because they're so nice, will automatically bill me for my premium viewing package because I subscribed last season. Now, I know I'm going to pay the motherfuckers either way, I always do, but it's the sheer deception and creepiness of it all. It's not, "Hey, don't forget you can pay to watch baseball on the internet." It's, "We have your credit card information, so fuck you."
I'm in, I'm all in, they know I'll spend it all. When you grow up poor and then remain poor, baseball or any sport can be that alleviation, that beautiful world outside your own you're hopelessly addicted to. And these gutless peddlers know it. It's the same deal when I'm at Dodger Stadium. If I was at a bar and I bought a Bud Light and the bartender said, "Ten bucks," I'd choke somebody to death and leave. But it's baseball so all I can do is burn the currency I have and definitely some that I don't have. I'll buy their goddamn beer and pay for their goddamn games with the insane prayer in mind that Matt Kemp will make a diving catch or Andre Ethier will hit a three-run shot to win the game. And then I can be suspended in that fine moment in time when we all look around and feel exactly the same. It's all worth it then. So, every year about this time, as I'm waiting anxiously and uncomfortably for this shit to start, I'm angry about everything, the world outside and intertwined. Everything. But even so, I see my hand and I put it down. I'm all in. For Vin Scully at least. I think I'll spend it all.

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