The third finest day of the year. Maybe the fourth finest on years when St. Patrick’s Day is an honest hoolie.
I’ve only missed one Opening Day since 2005. In 2007 some gigantically evil bastard scheduled a massive work project requiring weeks of around the clock attention for the Opening Day weekend. I quit that job.
Now I’ve got the time and the inclination but neither Baltimore nor Philadelphia gets a home Opening Day. The Phillies, however, are opening in Washington, DC against the lowly Nationals. That shouldn’t be too hard to score tickets to, right? I mean, the Nats are worse than the friggin’ Orioles for chrissakes.
Well, you’d be wrong. I assume it’s all bandwagon Phillies fans. Every ticket is sold and the scalped ones are being sold at fantastic prices. I paid less for better tickets to the flag raising ceremony Opening Night in Philadelphia last year than nosebleeds in DC are going for now.
If that weren’t difficult enough to swallow I find out the President of the United States is attending the game to recreate the 100th anniversary of Grover Cleveland’s first pitch.
Now I’ve been to an Opening Day with the President in Cincinnati in 2006. It’s a right royal pain in the ass. There are metal detectors, snipers and an extended ceremony. Fair enough. I’d still go.
But honestly, our current President isn’t fit to carry Grover Cleveland’s jock. And I don’t want to share the same city or state with that jug-eared communist traitor. Let alone the same ballpark. Hell, the godamned guy plays basketball fer chrissakes. Why can’t he leave my game the hell alone?
Sod it. I can have more fun watching Red Sox Opening Night and Phillies Opening Day with a case of PBR and some pork rinds at home than I could being amongst Washingtonians and Constitution-shredding tyrants.
I’ll miss the sunshine.
It’s all good. Baseball is officially back.
What the hell is going on?
Did the population of this area suddenly triple in the last sixty days?
Used to be I could leave work at 5:30 and more or less coast all the way into Philadelphia where I could find a parking space no more than one block from my house on my first drive around the block.
Now I leave at 5:30, sit in traffic for thirty minutes to go about five miles, get back to Philadelphia, drive around multiple blocks in ever-increasing circles for another thirty minutes and finally settle on a dubiously legal parking space no more than one mile from my house on my fifth drive around the block.
I swear to Jesus Christ Almighty – hanging on the cross at this very minute – the next time it takes me thirty minutes to find a parking space I am going to dynamite every single car sitting in a permit legal parking spot within a two block radius that has New Jersey tags.
Those bastards make my life difficult enough without taking up my parking space to re-enact their favorite scenes from Jersey Shore at Fat Tuesdays on a Thursday night.
Anyone up for a good Jersey-stomping flash mob?
Family excepted, of course. Hell, they might help.
Surely it is inarguable that the debate over a national mandate epitomizes the central ideological divide in the country today.
In broad terms, there is one side that believes liberty can be subverted for the collective good because government often makes more efficient and more moral choices.
Then there is the other side, which believes that people who believe such twaddle are seditious pinkos.
Read more: http://www.denverpost.com/harsanyi/ci_14742998#ixzz0j82DScQ4
“This meeting can do nothing more to save the country!” — Samuel Adams; December 16, 1773
I said, nearly two years ago, that the United States of America as founded between 1775 and 1789 died on November 4, 2008. The result of that election irrevocably demonstrated that the people of the United States – no longer citizens – were timid sheep, easily led astray by a smooth talking shepherd skilled in cheap parlor tricks. The mob finally ruled and was only interested in dividing their unearned spoils.
Yesterday, “the people” in Congress assembled chose to violate both the letter and the spirit of the Supreme Law of the Land in open defiance of the desires of the majority of the people of the United States as expressed through polling data and commit this nation to an absolute and permanent state of collapse. There is no coming back from this. There’s no way to fix this. It will never be repealed. It can never be amended enough to make it tolerable. It is a permanent and unalterable change in the status of We the People from participants in their government to mere subjects and slaves.
The only recourse now is armed revolution. The taking up of arms is not to be done lightly. All good citizens must bide their time, attempt to force a change through the power of the ballot box and work within the tattered remnants of the system. If those efforts fail, only two choices remain: death or slavery.
I am going to be totally selfish. I am happier now than I have been in my entire life. I might accept the yoke with the understanding that some day soon I am going to die and escape this catastrophe.
It is a sad, sad day in the history of the human race. The day all of humanity finally surrendered to slavery.
Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats. — H.L. Mencken; 1919
Novus Ordo Seclorum
In the grand scheme of Latin phraseology I’ve always been more partial to things like Oderint Dum Metuant and Re Vera, Potas Bene.
Funny how life can continue to surprise you even when you think you’ve got its measure. You can be coasting along, content if not happy, and then something upends everything. And instead of drinking a lot or trying to instill fear you’re sober on St. Patrick’s Day, watching insipid children’s programming, thinking about a new order, happily contemplating a new future. It’s heady stuff.
I started this website as a way to get thoughts out of my head and on to virtual paper. This always helps me think. More importantly, once all the bad thoughts weren’t bouncing around my head I was a much more stable and happy guy; far less prone to occasional bouts of genocide.
Now I find myself to be genuinely happy. For the first time in my entire life there’s a very real possibility I may get everything I ever wanted. I will still have to work, there will still be troubles along the way and the general idiocy of the world will still annoy. But a man finds that when he’s got his own family, everything else gets the volume turned down. There’s a reason to eat shit with a smile. To wake up early and go to bed late. To wash dishes, clean house and maintain an even keel.
The old Mess of the Damned will always stand as a place to lay my burdens down. But I am learning not to ask for those burdens to be lifted, rather I ask for broader shoulders to bear them.