Thus far, I - absolutely, totally, without one microbe of doubt - hate 2020. What a piece-a-shit year! I should have known something was amiss, when the best part of New Year's Eve was watching Anderson Cooper get plastered. And it's been downhill from there!
The flu's march across China. Luis Severino's elbow. The flu's march across Korea. Giancarlo Stanton's calf. The flu's march across Italy. James Paxton's back. America's botched flu tests. Aaron Judge's rib. The Fox News "hoax" claims. The cancellation of spring training. Social distancing, flattening the curve, economic collapse, death tolls, hot spots, Jared, everything... EVERYTHING. And we're only fucking three months in. We've still got the flu's march across the heartland, the civil unrest, botched government checks, the hurricane seasons and - capping everything - the presidential election with its avalanche of hate. Then comes the Martian invasion, the zombie apocalypse, the extinction asteroid, the revolt of the machines and the recall of Goop! Yep, worst year ever. And to think that I once associated 20/20 with Hugh Downs.
So, based on the above scientific projections, there is no reason to expect the Yankees to win the 2020 world series, if there is one. I mean, here is a legitimate question: Do we even want a Yankee championship to be forever linked to this dreadful trip around the sun? You know what would fit this miserable 2020? No season. Or worse, the Astros winning... behind new manager Curt Schilling!
But but BUT... there is a reason to keep going, to keep hoping, to keep the fire burning. His name is John Sterling.
Today brings a news report on The Master's life in quarantine, which he calls "house arrest." Sterling - 81 and totally at-risk if he gets the virus - is staying put in his Jersey home, reading, watching TV, washing hands and waiting for the call - from either MLB or Joe Black. He belongs in the Hall of Fame, folks. (Note: So does Jethro Tull, by the way; did you know Tull is not in the rock Hall of Fame? Ridiculous.) According to NJ.Com, Sterling says:
“Well, you'd like to have a normal life. There's no question that’s one of the tough things. You can't call up your friends and meet for dinner somewhere. There's no place that’s open. But I have a very lovely apartment looking over the Hudson. It’s a big apartment, and my kids will come down and bring me things and I read in the afternoon. Every afternoon I'm in the middle of a book.
"Anyway, I'm doing okay. I'm very lucky that I haven't got the virus. Suzyn hasn't gotten it. I call friends every day around the country to see how they're doing. And, you know, for them, so far so good.”
So far, so good. Baby steps. We're a quarter of the way through the worst year ever. But The Master is okay, and his message remains: Fifteen minutes can save you 15 percent or more on car insurance...
Sunday, April 5, 2020
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6 comments:
His apartment? Some say it's like a college campus.
Let's send him a keg and a dozen pizzas.
I hope the entire commentariat is still reading. The posts have been excellent, and our resident troll had really upped its game. Zir is much more with the spirit of the blog!
Huzzah!
Here's an idea that will never get traction: why doesn't Yankees radio rebroadcast classic Sterling-Waldman games? YES does it. Who has the rights to radio? 660 AM here in the city will play them if they get sponsors, and I bet they would.
I can't think of a more soothing background sound to hear during all the shit that's going on. Why, they could even throw in a few Sterling-Kay games from olden days, before Kay became a Yankees shill in Hal's vest pocket.
We need it.
I think they should just play songs from 1985, that would then make everybody think about the quite astonishing 17 year-old Pauline Hickeys unbelievably perfect tits all the time, ensuring that everyone would feel happy all the time because they`d have that stunningly beautiful image of those mind-blowingly incredible tits in their minds all the time ! ! !.
Actually, when i think about, that is a pretty good idea.
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