Monday, March 14, 2005
MNR
Sleep is overrated, don't you think?
Well then, so are the Yankees. Okay, so maybe they have some freakish forty-year old ten foot monster on the mound, but you just know that at the end of the season, after they've won like 110 games, they'll still falter when they have to rely on the recently come out of retirement Ron Guidry to win game seven against the Sox at the Stadium. It'll be the bottom of the ninth inning, the Sox up 8-6, the tying run on second, and the winning run at the plate in the person of Alex Rodriguez. Unfortunately for the Yankees, with a 2-2 count on him, A-Rod will just remember at that precise moment that he has forgotten his fanny pack with his favorite lipstick in the clubhouse, and Keith Foulke will drill a 95-mile an hour fastball right past him.
Ahh yes, it's that time of year again as baseball springs into bloom. It would be nice if spring itself would spring into bloom. It's that exciting time of year when the cherry blossoms appear for like a tenth of a second. But for that tenth of a second there is no greater place to be on Earth than Washington, DC.
Unfortunately for us DC residents, approximately 8.4 billion other people think along the same lines, and they infest us like cicadas on their every 17-year appearance. As one who has been a resident of the two most important cities in America, I absolutely must take this time to express my deep appreciation for tourists.
I love tourists. There is no greater joy than being on the Metro with half-a-million clueless morons who have all crowded the Gallery Place station to wait 15 minutes for a train so that they can take it all the way to Metro Center. And then when they get off the train they decide to stop right there in the middle of the ever-loving platform, mesmerized by the blinking lights and the moving staircases that the rest of the civilised world recognizes as escalators. Even more endearing is the way that their feet all become magically magnetized the second that they touch said escalators, and the concept of standing TO THE RIGHT is completely foreign to them so they all just stand there looking completely dazed and confused, blissfully unaware of the approximately 2,000 people standing behind them hoping to get the top so that they can get to fucking work on time, thank you very much.
Of course I shoudn't be so hard on the tourists. It's not as though the kind citizens of this fair metropolis are much better. Ever hop on I-95 at rush hour? Is the concept of the left lane being just a passing lane completely alien to the people who poulate Virginia, DC, Maryland and Delaware? Here's a clue. When the car in front of you is travelling at 65.2 miles-per-hours, and you are travelling at just about 65.2000000000000000000001 miles-per-hour, can you maybe wait a split second before you turn into the left lane because, you know, if you look in the rear-view mirror you can see a line of cars approxmately 17 miles long all riding bumper-to-bumper as we wait patiently for you to GET THE HELL OUT OF THE LEFT LANE.
And you know what else. You're late for a train, and the doors are closing - LET THE FUCKING DOORS CLOSE. You are not the most important person in the known universe, and your being 30 seconds later for your appointment will not stop the time-space continuum.
Ditto for all the space cadets who dash for the elevator doors as though their baby was on board, and there was a bomb all set to go off the second the doors closed. Hey, gues what slappy, there are other elevators in this bank, catch one of them. Thank you, have a nice day.
It just goes to prove what I always have said: people are oblivious. People go through their day as if there were no other human beings on the planet. That's right buddy, just stand there in the middle of the street looking up at the tall building, taking somewhere in the vicinity of 35 hours to get your camera positioned just the way you want, and the focus precisely right. Yeah, because there's no one here who needs to maybe get around you. You know what you can do with that camera, buddy? Just give it to me, and I'll turn that sonofabitch sideways, and stick it straight up your candy ass.
You like pancakes?
Anyway, I welcome the re-opening of tourist season. As you can see, I am a real people person. I absolutely can't wait for that moment when I am jogging on the Mall and I get trapped behind some couple from Idaho and their fifteen children who have managed to all escape firmly from their control and walk around like a bunch of drunken midgets. And seeing as how I have to make trips to New York on successive weekends, I welcome the idiot from Pennsylvania that I will have to tailgate up the entire length of the New Jersey Turnpike.
Just give me my Korn cd and a shotgun, and let's have some fun.
Well then, so are the Yankees. Okay, so maybe they have some freakish forty-year old ten foot monster on the mound, but you just know that at the end of the season, after they've won like 110 games, they'll still falter when they have to rely on the recently come out of retirement Ron Guidry to win game seven against the Sox at the Stadium. It'll be the bottom of the ninth inning, the Sox up 8-6, the tying run on second, and the winning run at the plate in the person of Alex Rodriguez. Unfortunately for the Yankees, with a 2-2 count on him, A-Rod will just remember at that precise moment that he has forgotten his fanny pack with his favorite lipstick in the clubhouse, and Keith Foulke will drill a 95-mile an hour fastball right past him.
Ahh yes, it's that time of year again as baseball springs into bloom. It would be nice if spring itself would spring into bloom. It's that exciting time of year when the cherry blossoms appear for like a tenth of a second. But for that tenth of a second there is no greater place to be on Earth than Washington, DC.
Unfortunately for us DC residents, approximately 8.4 billion other people think along the same lines, and they infest us like cicadas on their every 17-year appearance. As one who has been a resident of the two most important cities in America, I absolutely must take this time to express my deep appreciation for tourists.
I love tourists. There is no greater joy than being on the Metro with half-a-million clueless morons who have all crowded the Gallery Place station to wait 15 minutes for a train so that they can take it all the way to Metro Center. And then when they get off the train they decide to stop right there in the middle of the ever-loving platform, mesmerized by the blinking lights and the moving staircases that the rest of the civilised world recognizes as escalators. Even more endearing is the way that their feet all become magically magnetized the second that they touch said escalators, and the concept of standing TO THE RIGHT is completely foreign to them so they all just stand there looking completely dazed and confused, blissfully unaware of the approximately 2,000 people standing behind them hoping to get the top so that they can get to fucking work on time, thank you very much.
Of course I shoudn't be so hard on the tourists. It's not as though the kind citizens of this fair metropolis are much better. Ever hop on I-95 at rush hour? Is the concept of the left lane being just a passing lane completely alien to the people who poulate Virginia, DC, Maryland and Delaware? Here's a clue. When the car in front of you is travelling at 65.2 miles-per-hours, and you are travelling at just about 65.2000000000000000000001 miles-per-hour, can you maybe wait a split second before you turn into the left lane because, you know, if you look in the rear-view mirror you can see a line of cars approxmately 17 miles long all riding bumper-to-bumper as we wait patiently for you to GET THE HELL OUT OF THE LEFT LANE.
And you know what else. You're late for a train, and the doors are closing - LET THE FUCKING DOORS CLOSE. You are not the most important person in the known universe, and your being 30 seconds later for your appointment will not stop the time-space continuum.
Ditto for all the space cadets who dash for the elevator doors as though their baby was on board, and there was a bomb all set to go off the second the doors closed. Hey, gues what slappy, there are other elevators in this bank, catch one of them. Thank you, have a nice day.
It just goes to prove what I always have said: people are oblivious. People go through their day as if there were no other human beings on the planet. That's right buddy, just stand there in the middle of the street looking up at the tall building, taking somewhere in the vicinity of 35 hours to get your camera positioned just the way you want, and the focus precisely right. Yeah, because there's no one here who needs to maybe get around you. You know what you can do with that camera, buddy? Just give it to me, and I'll turn that sonofabitch sideways, and stick it straight up your candy ass.
You like pancakes?
Anyway, I welcome the re-opening of tourist season. As you can see, I am a real people person. I absolutely can't wait for that moment when I am jogging on the Mall and I get trapped behind some couple from Idaho and their fifteen children who have managed to all escape firmly from their control and walk around like a bunch of drunken midgets. And seeing as how I have to make trips to New York on successive weekends, I welcome the idiot from Pennsylvania that I will have to tailgate up the entire length of the New Jersey Turnpike.
Just give me my Korn cd and a shotgun, and let's have some fun.
# posted by Paul Zummo : 11:31 PM
