THE BANAL EXHIBIT

Naturally I did not watch the ball game today. See, the thing is that ball games can only be watched if you have pizza, beer, corn chips and salsa, and a right wing blather-versation going on. Saddly, I lacked all that. In consequence of which I failed to develop an interest in whatever it was that the ball players did.

Which was deliberate.


In actual fact I lost interest before I was born.

Judging by some conversations I've had over the past several years, it's a grievous failing, a flaw in my character, and lapse of such monumental proportions that it casts doubt about my moral fibre. In my defense, I'll point out that whatever the men in shiny spandex botties did was stupendous, a jolly good show what, quite unbelievable, and no one ever did it as well since the dawn of time oh my heavens yowza.

Mmm, yeah.



Stuffing my face while getting blitzed on sixpacks of Schprizzle really isn't how I wish to spend a weekend afternoon.


As a 'male-bonding opportunity', it lacks magic.


I'm not really into male bonding.


Or Schprizzle.




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