7/30/03
Softball: The Golden State
Dear People,
Congratz to all on last week’s sensual 13-9 triumph of recreational intrepidity. I still get little clavicular goosebumps thinking about my team’s stirring rally from a crushing 2-0 deficit, its deeply rooted aerobic chakra found only in the vital trimestral middle innings (4-6). And no, I’m not saying that just because I have some sort of weirdo whimsical desire to blend sport, acupuncture and reproductive politics in one all encompassing statement. For the record, though, I do read voraciously from an eclectic stew of popular journals, and more to the point, I am not ashamed to throw in the residual verbiage that sticks to my viscous little hippocampus whenever I set pen to parchment, as I am wont to do.
Of course, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that this tells you nothing about the specifics or tenor of the match in question, but instead merely reflects an increasingly common attitude of such flippant journalistic arrogance on my part that I am no longer worthy of the leadership role that I have inexplicably wielded for over seven unbearable years. Indeed, when one combines the spotty quality of the games with both the mediocre service and my increasingly torpid reportage, the case for a formal recall seems almost overwhelming.
Well, I say bring it on. I have no intention of hiding the fact that our communal bylaws are based on the sublime political wisdom of 19th century Californians, and thus given that there are 248 of you on this list, it does indeed take only 2.48 signatures to trigger a formal plebiscite on my official ouster (Technically, this means that a John Hancock from two people plus the family ferret would qualify). Since it’s clear that there are restive and bitter elements among you who will be able to muster the minimum, I will not hide the relative ease with which each and every one of you could then choose to immediately run for my Kaisership were I to be removed---simply put, 15 bucks and the acquisition of two additional signatures, and you’re an official candidate.
Of course this does mean that, for example, if Mikie signs for Jen, and Jen signs for herself, she could end up on the ballot and then go on to win with a plurality of, say, 3%, or just seven votes total (Mikie, herself, three illegitimate friends, the stupid ferret and Arnold Bozonegger). And this is despite the fact that both original signatories have been stuck in lame-ass Louisville, Kentucky for almost a year!
Fine, if that’s the type of democracy you want, sign the damn petition when the gadflies come knockin’, but don’t blame me if one stark day next month, softball is scheduled for Sunday at 8AM on the mosquito-infested swampland behind Jed and Pa’s Bourbon Shack next to Churchill Downs. In the meantime, I have a community to run, and therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday noon...Raymond
8/1/03
Softball: Marketing
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11:00, and as of now, there are still three slots left.
Please bring $2 for the field, which for this week only, includes a complimentary cruet of Essenza di Zegna. As you know, this is a truly delightful eau which features just a hint of bergamont and cardamon in a bold yet mellow woody scent...Raymond 845-7552
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