Sunday, July 1, 2012
Posted by el duque at 9:58 AM
While we listened to the Yankees condemn humankind to the plague of losing to Chicago - a loss that, by the way, may have resulted from me trying again to save my juju-less friend - I attempted to explain the critical importance of Yankee baseball. It was like explaining Descartes to a frog. I was patient. I was gracious. It was hopeless. We lost 10-7.
But in the course of the night, this fellow said something that still bothers me. We were listening to The Master bemoan the opening night jitters of Adam Warren, when my friend said:
"This announcer sounds like Paula Poundstone."
Paula Poundstone? WTF? Is this 1983? Who remembers what Paula Poundstone's voice sounds like, unless your radio only gets NPR? Paula Poundstone?
Yesterday, I listened to John. Every pitch, every play, every ad for New York LIfe, all I could think of was...
This is a problem. Somebody, please, tell me John does NOT sound like Paula Poundstone.