It wasn't a deliberate vow of silence. I was watching the Dodgers lose to Milwaukee sometime in early August and decided it wasn't worth talking shit about. It never is but usually I have nothing better to do. In August I wrote two zines, High and Outside #2 and #3, adderol, caffeine, bluntsmoke. Then I had to move abruptly, find a place with bad credit and a yuppiecidal pit bull. Two red flags when you live in Shit City. All this while having to resist throwing my now former landlord down the stairs. I might just dedicate this offseason and therefore this blog to listing all the methods and reasons why, concerning the eradication of said landlord and wealthy, property owning gentrifying tyrants in American cities altogether. Kill them all. They're constantly waging war against the working class and belong to the same scumbucket as the owners of professional sportsteams, the high cardinals in the Church of Cunts.
Frank McCourt still owned the team in August and now he does not. Until the Dodgers are sold to another rich piece of shit who pillages our pockets and souls, this is good news. This lone, lost era of wonder where we resigned Matt Kemp and no one is injured yet. Dee Gordon is the real deal, Clayton Kershaw will win 30 games, A.J. Ellis will hit .244! Until the season can turn to shit, we have a few months to bask in the end of the McCourt era and 2011 as a whole. It was a shit year. In the end, we had two of the best players in the major leagues and the chaos of young, potential futurestars was enough to feel better in September than you did in July. Maybe some great players will want to come to L.A. and get paid 100 million dollars to start 35 games. The weather is really nice.
Oh, well. Smoke ten blunts and listen to UGK. Write Matt Kemp on police cars and bank windows. No reason, just say fuck it. Tear some shit up.
World Series Twenty Twelve!
