Two Sports

Sorry, nonexistent readers, that I haven't written in a few days. I've been busy playing John Madden 2004 football. I love football for its violence, its desire to hurt the opponent, for I am short and can't hurt many people without a blunt object or an ill-chosen word. I love football for its appeal to cheerleaders and gapers. The big dumb football player is the norm, but this man courageously ignores physical problems that would send any sensible person into a wild panic, a permanent hypochondria.

Football cannot compare to baseball. Baseball is the game of inactivity. It is the only sport in which the pauses outlast the action. This leaves the fan to contemplate himself, his relationship with the sport, history, or simply the validity of what Steve Stone is saying. It draws out the joy and agony, which I think is what we are all looking for in a short life punctuated with scarcely few moments of true meaning.

Degenerates

There is a degenerate who loves all of your flaws. This degenerate may be a man or a woman. Your personal degenerate gets off on everything you think is imperfect about yourself: spits a wad, soaks a silky, gets off on it!

He/She/She-he loves it and couldn't be happier that you possess it. Whether it be cellulite, giant cankles, great crimson pimples, a splurging bulge of fat, or terribly hammertoed feet, there is someone out there for you. How can you not believe that? There are a thousand million degenerates out there. And more than one of them loves your body. You likely have a choice between five or more degenerates, some of whom have social skills or at least an indecipherable accent. Give up your inhibitions now.