Today marks the worst day of the year.
And no, this is not the Anniversary of
when the Backstreet Boys released a mix album with New Kids on the Block,
however that piece of music is a shame to humanity in itself.
For full effect, download “Tubthumper” by
Chumbawamba and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.
Today is honestly the most pathetic, most
gruesome, most dull-inspired day that we are all forced to endure every single
year. Today feels worse than getting a canker on the roof of your mouth
after eating nine bowls of Cap’n Crunch. It’s the day when using
sandpaper as deodorant feels better than watching what Sportscenter is airing
24 hours a day. It’s a day when true sporting events die, and we all have
to try and stomach the hot days of summer with the joke of a game known as
baseball.
Ugggh, I think I might join a quilting
club to make the days pass by it’s that stale. Can somebody please buy me
some fabric?
If you have paid attention to any form of
media coverage online, on your TV, or on that little device that vibrates in
your pocket, you may be familiar with last night being Game 7 of the NBA Finals
between the San Antonio Spurs and the opponent that shall not be named.
It was a great contest with a certain team being crowned the champion, a slew
of champagne bottles being uncorked left and right, and a 6’9” 245-lb. behemoth
of a creature saying that he couldn’t wait to go to Disneyland.
But after the festivities had stopped and
the elationary cigarettes had fizzled out, we all had to face the fact that we
would now have baseball forced down our throats for the next three months.
And not just one boring type of baseball, all boring types of baseball. I’m
talking Major Leagues, minor leagues, NCAA championships, Pan-Am challenges,
Little League World Series, everything. Yes that’s right, we are so bored
in the summer we have the number one sports broadcasting network do around the
clock coverage of a team who think girls still have cooties.
Announcer: “As you can see, Johnny
Cartwright is a heck of a pitcher for the team from Hampton, Virginia. He’s got
a slider you wouldn’t believe.”
Color Commentator: “You’re right,
and Johnny just got an “A” on his spelling test and has a pet frog named
Optimus Prime, this kid is a dandy.”
And you wonder why I think the sports
world has lost its luster in the summertime?
By the way, have I mentioned that as of
today, June 21, 2013, the Major League Baseball season has only played 71
games? Yeah, that’s right, 71 games. They’ve been playing for over
two months now and haven’t even reached the halfway point. True story.
Major League Baseball plays 162 games a year. That’s nine innings of
crotch-sniffing, dirt-smudging, signal-calling boredom that the American public
is forced to endure every single summer. Baseball to me is worse than
being strapped down in a hair salon and forced to watch a looping Sham-Wow
infomercial. It’s a crime I tell ya.
The sad part is that there is nothing we
can do about it. The rest of professional sports in this country have all
died out, crowning champions left and right, and have all moved on with their
preparations for the upcoming seasons which can’t start soon enough. Meanwhile
the rest of us are obligated to deal with a bunch of grown men wearing makeshift
Halloween costumes playing a game evolved from cricket. There is nothing
else in the sports world worth wasting any more time and energy on.
Wait, what’s that? The Stanley Cup
playoffs aren’t finished? You mean the real sports year isn’t over just
yet? Never mind then. Cancel my reservation with the quilting club
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