An Open and Public Admission

...of my hatred of baseball. (listening to: the blood pump in my ears, hot and angry like a volcano seething for the blood of a virgin sacrifice)

To Whom it May Concern,

Let it be said, right here and now, that I am not one who uses the term hatred liberally. In fact, as Daisy will tell you, I often jump on people who use it coloquially. Hatred is a very strong term, to be used only when referring to rapists, Nazis and mayonnaise on hamburgers. But right now, this term most definitely applies.

You see, my blog-reading friends, my tuesday custom is watching House, MD. Anyone who's been here before knows this. However, after tonight's episode, I was treated to a wonderful revolution by the folks at FOX. House will return to television on November 1st. No more House... for four weeks. And WHY? So that we can endure... THE BASEBALL POSTSEASON.

Now, I know that Basketball's post-season is longer. Hell, everyone knows that if the post season for hoops goes as long as it theoretically could, the two teams in the NBA Finals might have to send their sweat-wipers to the draft, since they'd air on the same night. But, please. Please, MLBPA, don't take away my House.

Have we not suffered enough? Have we not seen the horrible, demonic Yankees enough that they must now invade my most sacred time of the week simply to flaunt their enormous paychecks? They must run and swing in their crisp pinstripes, showing off how much money they make? How much money the devil gave them when the triumverate of Joe Torre, George Steinbrenner and Richard Nixon (Steinbrenner gave him money to stay quiet. It's true.) all summoned Beezelbub in the Yankees locker room in 1972.

When will it end, ye Gods? Look down on us and have mercy! Ye, who sit above and pull the strings, look down on your suffering children and pity us! Ye have shown grace before. You have given us Football, and knowing that we shall only watch it on weekends, have ensured that no distracting goodness on network TV shall interrupt. But dark was the day that you plotted to send us House on FOX; knowing full well that Rupert Murdoch, in his lust for gold dubloons had also purchased (spit) Postseason baseball. You sent us signs, oh Ye of the Heavens, and we did not see. You sent prophets to say that when the devil came to make our lives miserable, he would be foreshadowed by a voice. A voice that would speak lies and tell us only things that would serve His evil purpose. You told us this, and yet we saw FOX News and did not understand. Please, pity us! Send us back the bitter and misanthropic doctor who, for one blessed hour in a week, makes us feel as if we are not the only ones who suffer.

Today, my heart hangs heavy. Today I have learned that, like Penelope, it shall be a very long time before I see my loved (Hugh Laurie is my non-sexual mancrush) one again. But when we pass around the dark side of the moon that is the baseball postseason, the light on the horizon shall be in the form of a doctor who cares not for us, but for that which plagues us. And it shall be Good.

Officially Unofficial

Well, the day is came. I'm unofficially 50% of my way through my five-year plan, and with 3 years left in it. (listening to "Meeting Shatner," by Ben Folds)

So, it's all saturday and whatever, and I'm completely bored. I take a late nap, talk to Biggy for a while, and I leave my usual Saturday appointment: Comedy Sportz.

As I get there and stand in line for my ticket, one of the guys working the door who I've talked to and know fairly well motions for me to just come in. I figure he thinks it doesn't matter if I get a ticket or not, since I get in for free whenever, and it is close to show time. So, I come in, and when I get to the door to the theatre, he tells me to wait. Hmm. Wait for what?

I'm there for all of two seconds when Doug, the artistic director of CSz comes out and pulls me aside. He tells me they've had someone who couldn't come in, and they were shorthanded to begin with, and then asks me if I'd like to play some Comedy Sportz tonight. Boy... Would I.

I suit up and take the field as a member of the blue team under captain Nica Halula. We took on the team of Captain Cory Brooks and Halsey Lundquist of the St. Paul Fire, and, unfortunately, lost a barn-burner that went until the final game, 27-21. Nica was patient with me, teaching me what I needed to know in order to make it all work, and for my first official show with the Minneapolis CSz team... it went exceptionally well. I wish any of you could have been there to see it.

More will come, and I'm still set up for the show on September 29th. So, please make reservations for that show. I don't know if Doug was pleased with my performance enough to consider making me a permanent member of the team, but he did say that he was impressed for my first show. I will keep you all updated, as this is a rather big deal for me.

Thanks to all, and stay tuned!

Gee.. What could there possibly be to talk about?

Well, since it's been an entirely uneventful two weeks since last I blogged, I have no idea what I should talk about today. (listening to "My Bones Ache" by My Skeleton)

I've got a cold I can't shake, and I haven't been sleeping well the last few nights. So, naturally, this leads to a bit of the achy joints. But have no fear, bloggites. The wheel keeps on spinning 'round.

Let's see... first things first. The DVD of House MD, Season One came out a week ago Tuesday, and I took the first opportunity I could to run over to Best Buy and pick it up. I spent the next three days watching each of the 22 episodes in order of airdate. (They were actually shot in a different order, leading to a few continuity problems) Can I just say: Fantastic. Hugh Laurie has been nominated for an Emmy for his performance as misanthropic Dr. House, and many predict him to win. It is important to note, however, that the show did not recieve a nomination. While well written, the first season relied heavily upon formula, only straying slightly towards the end. I pray that the writers have the good sense to carry on with this trend and see where it takes them. I should think the message that a character, and not the show itself earned the attention of the Emmy committee, would not escape the makers of this phenomenal program, and they would realize that focusing on this cast of strange and unusual characters is the way to go. But hey. I just watch the show. Season Two begins Tuesday, Sept. 13th on FOX. Viewer Discretion is advised.

I am trying to decide how best to address the catastrophe of biblical proportions going on in the Big Easy. So much has been said, while at the same time so little is actually being said. I think it's strange that CUBA is offering aid, and the US is ignoring them. Now, I know that we don't like Cuba. Really. I get it. Nearly 40 years with no talky. Ok. But hey... LOOK. The end of the world is coming to New Orleans, and they're RIGHT THERE. With medicine, supplies, and doctors. They don't want a change in foreign policy; they want to help. And we're pretending they're not there like siblings in the back of a car on a roadtrip. Please, Mr. Bush. Please pull your head out of whatever bureaucratic nonsense you've got going on right now, and HELP. That is all.

Folks, I'd like to lighten the mood a bit by giving you all advance warning of my first Comedy Sportz show, coming up on September 29th. The last Thursday of the month, at 8pm, I'll be premiering with the rest of my minor league team at the Comedy Dome in Uptown Minneapolis. PLEASE call and make reservations so that the numbers can go up. We'd love to pack the place, so please: if you can make it, do. Call (612) 870-1230. Thanks. And I hope to see you all there!

Final words: I've been very introspective in the last week, trying to figure myself out. I think I'm on to something, and hopefully will have something to talk about soon. Stay tuned.