Happy New- HEY!, Whoa - Wuh Fuh?!
"Just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in."
[Proper hand gestures required when saying this prayer - err, uh - reciting this line].
Brilliantly Conceived Essays are for Pussies
I mean, I could go on and on forever without posting, for want of a good day-and-a-half alone to write something publish-worthy. Or I could try this. Shotgun! Maybe it's lazy but I for one feel much better letting it go.
Honestly, I just can't catch up. Do you have any idea how many posts I've started this last few months? My world is a microwave bag of un-popped kernels. I need to learn to live with the crunchy stuff and get on with it.
All this because I woke up today and realized - of course, wildly belatedly realized - that here's the new year already, and once again it's just the same stuff, different time-stamp.
I see that the Anaheim Angels, formerly the California Angels, are now to be called "The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim". That's just great.
What, did the trial balloon hit a jet stream and just disappear? Angels owner-guy, I understand that you're a marketing genius, but honestly, you felt no need whatsoever to consult maybe just one sane individual before embarking on this linquistic folly?
Seriously, the Angels seem to have hired a new image consultant, and by the looks of it, the new guy, a mister Dr. Frankenstein, has turned his attention from animating corpses in stormy Ed Woodish chiaroscuro, to bolting together monster names for pro teams in sunny Southern California.
If I were Mickey Mouse - and that accusation has in fact been posited - I would be ticked! If I were a Dodgers fan, I would still revile the wicked Orange County American League Team, whatever the silly name. Verily. I'm not going to like them any more now that they're claiming to be from the same hell-hole as me. Since they're NOT. And if I were any Angels fan anywhere I'd feel as insulted and punked as any second-team in any major metropolitan area deserves to always feel anyway. And be proud of it.
Nevermind the sheer comic genius of naming your team "The City of Angels Angels of Anaheim". En Ingles.
To the point, this is baseball, dammit! Nicknames were invented in order to streamline one's references to the old ballteam. Thus, you get "The A's", and not, "The Guys down at the Athletic Club in Philadelphia who have put together a Uniformed Team of Base-Ball Regulars and who wish to Challenge us to a Contest of Nine Innings."
I already can't wait for inter-league games this year. Really. I want to head up to Anaheim for the cross-town out of town same town different place rivalry. Not even the teams themselves will know where to show up. I'll get there nice and early.
Usually I like to arrive early anyway, see some batting practice, wander the architectural wonder, knock down a beer and talk to the leathery old usher guy and hear some well worn nonsense about how he caught Jackie Robinson's first batting-practive foul ball about 59 years ago.
But not that day. No, I'm there early just to hear the public address announcer:
"Ladies and Gentlemen of Anaheim, welcome to the big game today between our own Los Angeles Angels, of Anaheim, and the Visiting Los Angeles Dodgers ... of Los Angeles ... here in beautiful Anaheim California. Not Los Angeles, IT's not here in beautiful Anaheim, just the game is here. And both of Los Angeles's teams. Well, I mean, Los Angeles's Los-Angeles-based Los Angeles team versus Los Angeles's out-of-town Anaheim-based Los Angeles team... All here in Anaheim, today. So, follow me here, the Visiting Team, the Los Angeles Dodgers, are here in Anaheim today to play the Home Team, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. One note, before I announce the starting line-ups today: If I don't get a really quick explanation as to whom I actually work for, I'm out of here."
Say it ain't so, Dave
Dave Barry announces today that he will no longer be writing regular columns as he has done weekly for about the last 162 years, except for his time as a volunteer in the 54th Pennsylvania Infantry during the rebellion.
He will still chime in on occasion, and will be deciding by next year whether or not to re-ink the old typewriter ribbon again. Meaning, he'll be back next year.
And the part about re-inking the old typewriter ribbon, in case you couldn't tell, I just made that up. If you'd like to read Dave's final-ish column, his least funny ever mind you, you can click here, for maybe a week or two until the link dies. And you'll have to probably register for free to the Miami Herald, which is not generally a bad thing, but I don't know, for one lousy article by Dave about Dave not writing any more articles? C'mon, knock it off.
Do you like how I'm separating my thoughts here with approximately thirteen underlined blanks? Just so you know, everything is organized just like this inside my head.