By Carl Mohrbacher
Which team should I adopt for the postseason?
-Oliver, Warbucks TN
Without question, adopt the Yankees. I’m tired of seeing teams take themselves off the “haven’t won a title in X number of years” or the “haven’t won a title ever” lists.
The last thing you want to see during a tang lull is your roommate parading a series of 10’s through the apartment.
Oh god-[dang] it. All I wanted this weekend was to see the Cubs [screw] up the Cardinals season. Those [soda]-guzzling redbird [stupid]-heads can go choke on a big fat [lollypop], you know what I’m saying? [Forget] you, St. Louis. Go [hug] yourself.
-The Entire North Side Of Chicago
I guess we should give the Chicago bullpen a big fat [thumbs up] while we’re at it.
I know he’s been playing a bunch this month, but do you ever get the feeling like Jeff Baker could be watching the game at home and no one would notice? Something about him makes me want to turn off the TV.
-Barry, Gibb City GA
Baker does have a bit of that blend-in-with-the-wallpaper type of anonymity, and that coupled with the amount of travel baseball requires, have allowed him to engage in a series of Kung Fu-esque adventures. Frank Miller and I are chronicling these escapades in the upcoming graphic novel Jeff Baker M.D: Detective At Law.
How would you evaluate the Cubs 2011 season?
-Harry, Seaward AK
I look at the greasy pile of waste behind me, contemplating the promise of the day’s beginning and silently pontificate on the choices that lead us to this unfulfilling end.
When did I eat cashews?
I’ve heard Richard Roeper say in a review of Running With Scissors that it takes a truly talented cast and crew to make a terrible movie. The same could be said of the 2011 Cubs.
Let’s throw the song “State Of Shock” in there as well. Between this one and the Dancing In The Streets duet with David Bowie, we ought to consider revoking Mick Jagger’s passport.
Along those lines, you ever get drunk, flip through the channels, run across a movie like Trois on BET and start unzipping your pants?
Forty-five minutes later you’re frustratedly hurling your special sock in the corner and heading back to the kitchen for another Scotch with nary a drop of seed spilled.
Fooled again.
So there it is.
The 2011 Cubs were a combination of colorful poop, terrible music and basic cable nudity teases.
Toodles for now.
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Comments welcome.
Posted on September 28, 2011