Baseball or a Lobotomy?

Baseball sucks. It's boring. It's long. The uniforms are gay. Heckling is often a chore. No cheerleaders—not that those purposeless bimbos belong at any sporting event and especially not on a football field. Foul balls zinged down the foul lines are like Scud missles. Teeball. A baseball game is a convention for fatsos, where smaller fatsos orbit around bigger fatsos.

Sidebar: The Lincoln Saltdogs banned me, ahem, for life from Haymarket Park years ago after I harassed the Fargo-Moorhead Redhawks's plump third base coach so relentlessly and viciously. I must've screamed "insatiable lust for hot dogs" a thousand times. Saltdog fans were even scolding me for my crass behavior. One fortyish woman said, "You're ruining the game for everyone." I said, "Oh, what do you know? You're a soccer mom. Go back to juice boxes." Seriously, who goes to minor-league baseball games in the first place? Free tickets and the promise of a free beer barely got me to go. The Saltdogs? That's the best they could come up with? Retards.

Okay. Where was I? Highlights of MLB games on SportsCenter are painful to sit through. Baseball jerseys look stupid. The average first baseman is morbidly obese. Most of the crowd is morbidly obese. The commentators are tying nooses in the broadcasters' booth halfway through the second inning because calling the "action" on the field is a fate worse than death. Red Sox fans omit "r"'s from too many words and sound like dunces in the process. The Brewers likely frown on public drunkenness and running out onto the field with a beer in each hand. What kind of messed-up double standard is that? The seventh-inning stretch. "Apartments on My Forehead Start at $1,400 a Month" Barry Bonds. "Don't Look at My Eyeballs" Jose Canseco. "Scarface" Mark McGwire. Rudolf Hess (just kidding). Once heroes and icons, these former players are spittle. Swinging a baseball bat at a baseball is far less fun or exhilarating than maniacally swinging one at (wherever your perverse mind takes you).

Rain stops games. Rain, for Pete's sake! The best place for a baseball card is in the spokes of a ten-speed bike.

And I don't want to hear about the College World Series. In point of fact: For most twentysomethings, the CWS has nothing to do with baseball. You just like the nonstop partying, women from out of town, and loading up on Rodeo Cheeseburgers after the bars close. The only gloves you care about were made by Trojan.

Baseball has fleas. Pass it on.