Tuesday, June 07, 2005
A Tuesday Manifesto
Yesterday, I linked up an article by Gene Wojciechowski. It was his take on the "I believe..." speech by Crash Davis in the movie Bull Durham.
I thought it was a good idea. In fact, I believe it's a great idea. So I'm going to copy it. Without further ado:
I believe...if you watch the new Gilligan's Island show on tv, they should send you somewhere far away (on more than a three hour cruise). I suggest digging a big hole somewhere in the Dakotas and leaving them there. With the movie star, the millionaire, his wife.
I believe...that St. Louis does not have the best fans in baseball. Folks, you can boo. Unless you're getting those tickets for free, you ought to. When your guy is 2-for-226 and has popped up to the 2nd baseman for the last three months (score that "P4," you wacky toasted ravioli and baseball-loving folks), the fact that you're standing up and singing "Tomorrow" from Annie is not going to snap that slump.
I believe...I'll miss the Red Sox episode of Queer Eye. In fact, I believe I've missed every other episode of the show, so why change now? Just so I can see Jason Varitek get a bikini wax? Tek? Captain? I can't. And stop giving Mirabelli a manicure with pumpkin wax or whatever the hell you use. The man doesn't use batting gloves or pine tar. Callouses are good. Repeat, callouses are goooooood.
I believe...the answer is Soren Kierkegaard...and you, too, can vote here for your favorite philosopher.
I believe...I will have another, thanks.
I believe...Michael Jackson should spend the rest of his days in prison.
I believe...Schapelle Corby should not.
I believe...my man VP has a man-crush on Pistons h.c. Larry Brown, which means he must have broken up with John Beilein. Ah, summer love.
I believe...that people who spend the bulk of their time discussing mid-major basketball on the internet should be banished to a hole adjacent to the Gilligan's Isle viewers. And somehow, I get the feeling that none of these folks would give Ginger a second glance.
I believe...if I hit Powerball, I buy a place in Nantucket, in Tasmania, and do this full-time. Oh, and season tix on the Monster.
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I'll close with this. Skip the theme for a second...Brian Cashman has a son named Theo? God I love irony. As we all know, Theo (Epstein, that is), is Brian Cashman's daddy. But Brian is also Theo's (Cashman, that is) - daddy.
It's the circle of life. It's the wheel of for-tune.
Enjoy day 158 of 2005. One.
I thought it was a good idea. In fact, I believe it's a great idea. So I'm going to copy it. Without further ado:
I believe...if you watch the new Gilligan's Island show on tv, they should send you somewhere far away (on more than a three hour cruise). I suggest digging a big hole somewhere in the Dakotas and leaving them there. With the movie star, the millionaire, his wife.
I believe...that St. Louis does not have the best fans in baseball. Folks, you can boo. Unless you're getting those tickets for free, you ought to. When your guy is 2-for-226 and has popped up to the 2nd baseman for the last three months (score that "P4," you wacky toasted ravioli and baseball-loving folks), the fact that you're standing up and singing "Tomorrow" from Annie is not going to snap that slump.
I believe...I'll miss the Red Sox episode of Queer Eye. In fact, I believe I've missed every other episode of the show, so why change now? Just so I can see Jason Varitek get a bikini wax? Tek? Captain? I can't. And stop giving Mirabelli a manicure with pumpkin wax or whatever the hell you use. The man doesn't use batting gloves or pine tar. Callouses are good. Repeat, callouses are goooooood.
I believe...the answer is Soren Kierkegaard...and you, too, can vote here for your favorite philosopher.
I believe...I will have another, thanks.
I believe...Michael Jackson should spend the rest of his days in prison.
I believe...Schapelle Corby should not.
I believe...my man VP has a man-crush on Pistons h.c. Larry Brown, which means he must have broken up with John Beilein. Ah, summer love.
I believe...that people who spend the bulk of their time discussing mid-major basketball on the internet should be banished to a hole adjacent to the Gilligan's Isle viewers. And somehow, I get the feeling that none of these folks would give Ginger a second glance.
I believe...if I hit Powerball, I buy a place in Nantucket, in Tasmania, and do this full-time. Oh, and season tix on the Monster.
-----
I'll close with this. Skip the theme for a second...Brian Cashman has a son named Theo? God I love irony. As we all know, Theo (Epstein, that is), is Brian Cashman's daddy. But Brian is also Theo's (Cashman, that is) - daddy.
It's the circle of life. It's the wheel of for-tune.
Enjoy day 158 of 2005. One.
