Will Future Generations Be Denied Yankee Seed?

Today's NY Review of Lobbyist Liaisons notes that somewhere in frosty, blue-and-white Norway, presumably where nobody's ever heard of Joba Chamberlain's duel with the gnats of Lake Erie, humankind is building the Noah's Arc of Burpees.

This is what will warm Charlton Heston's heart when he returns from outer space in the year 2525, and finds to his horror that all the AK-47s are jammed.

This week, the flagship of that effort, the Global Seed Vault near here, received its first seeds, millions of them. Bored into the middle of a frozen Arctic mountain topped with snow, the vault’s goal is to store and protect samples of every type of seed from every seed collection in the world.

We're saving the fern. Fine. Good. Great. We'll sleep tonight knowing that 100,000 years from now, the 9-armed slugs who land on this dead planet will have the means to re-create the plush 17th hole at Pebble Beach.

But who will play shortstop for this alien club? Has humankind asked that question?

We'll, we're asking it now, dammit!

It's time to stop worrying about Andy Pettitte's night sweats and start putting some of that $200 million a year payroll toward distant generations of Yanks. If that means building a deep freeze somewhere north of Utica, so be it.

Right now, frankly, our stockings are bare. We have no Jeet Seed. We have no Giambi Jism? We have no Posada -- uhm -- OK, let's not get hung up on foreplay wordplay. Suffice to say, without a few current yanks, we'll have no future Yanks!

We must start now. Actually, we should have started two weeks ago, when the swimsuit edition pages could still be turned.

You think Theo's Redsocks won't be doing this? Ohh, trust us here, all of you who would scorn our warnings. Somewhere north of Pawtucket -- hmm, "paw-tuck-it," the name itself conjures a bit of kink, don't you think? -- Larry the Lube surely is already filling eye-droppers with everything from Schilling Spilling to J.D. Dew, an entire Redsock Nation of Ejaculation.

We must act NOW. Today, the Steinway Trust should call a 14-minute clubhouse meeting -- for Kyle Farnsworth, four minutes -- and demand a tribute from each and every Bomber member. And we can't rely on the Vikings to store our treasures. We must build our own Yankee Seed Pod, the House that Rubs Built... then fill with A-bombs... from A-Rod!

Men, let's get on this. Good grief. The Norwegians are doing it for the dandilion! Onward and upward! Strap yourselves to the machine gun, and get thee to a Paris Hilton video!

In the year 2525, Charlton Heston won't find the guns he yearns for. For God sake, at least let him have some bullets!