The worst week of my adult life?
Not to sound overly melodramatic, but this seven-day stretch could end up being the lowest point of my adult life. And, it has nothing to do with music. (I mean, it's a good week for music when Moby and Eminem bury the hatchet, no? See the reason why.)
For starters, my beloved Redbirds not only lost the World Series last night, they were swept by the Boston Red Sox. I could just see the Sox' vaunted curse leaping from their bodies—suddenly alive with vibrant, childlike energy—and and landing in the Cardinals' lifeless corpses. We were demolished by the Sox. The best offense in the major leagues—so advertised—looked absolutely helpless against the Sox pitching staff. Now, Curt Schilling—bloody ankle and all—I can understand. He's licked our hitters in postseasons past. And Pedro "Who's Your Daddy?" Martinez I can certainly understand as well. The man is only the greatest righthanded pitcher of the past decade. But, Derek FUCKING Lowe? C'mon! I know he crushed the Yanks in this postseason as well...but, C'mon! The guy hardly has unhittable stuff. Yet, with our backs against the wall, the Cardinals slumped down to a crouch and by the sixth inning had all but curled up in the fetal position. What a disgusting series. I'd tip my hat to the Red Sox if I wasn't still busy vomiting on my shoetops.
But there's something even more stomach-wrenching that could turn this week into the worst of the worst. And I think you probably know just what that is. If Bush wins fair and square, I'll be incredibly disappointed in the majority of America. But, if Bush wins by cheating and bending the rules and throwing his weight around in the higher courts of the country—well, I might just make a drive to D.C. and find a doorstep to protest on. It's looking more likely that we won't know the victor for some time, so maybe my week-long prognosis will be inaccurate and the uncertainty will be extended into a dreary holiday season. Who knows at this point just what tricks are up Bush's sleeve? I can only hope that Kerry can stand his ground and that for once, the true victor will prevail.
For starters, my beloved Redbirds not only lost the World Series last night, they were swept by the Boston Red Sox. I could just see the Sox' vaunted curse leaping from their bodies—suddenly alive with vibrant, childlike energy—and and landing in the Cardinals' lifeless corpses. We were demolished by the Sox. The best offense in the major leagues—so advertised—looked absolutely helpless against the Sox pitching staff. Now, Curt Schilling—bloody ankle and all—I can understand. He's licked our hitters in postseasons past. And Pedro "Who's Your Daddy?" Martinez I can certainly understand as well. The man is only the greatest righthanded pitcher of the past decade. But, Derek FUCKING Lowe? C'mon! I know he crushed the Yanks in this postseason as well...but, C'mon! The guy hardly has unhittable stuff. Yet, with our backs against the wall, the Cardinals slumped down to a crouch and by the sixth inning had all but curled up in the fetal position. What a disgusting series. I'd tip my hat to the Red Sox if I wasn't still busy vomiting on my shoetops.
But there's something even more stomach-wrenching that could turn this week into the worst of the worst. And I think you probably know just what that is. If Bush wins fair and square, I'll be incredibly disappointed in the majority of America. But, if Bush wins by cheating and bending the rules and throwing his weight around in the higher courts of the country—well, I might just make a drive to D.C. and find a doorstep to protest on. It's looking more likely that we won't know the victor for some time, so maybe my week-long prognosis will be inaccurate and the uncertainty will be extended into a dreary holiday season. Who knows at this point just what tricks are up Bush's sleeve? I can only hope that Kerry can stand his ground and that for once, the true victor will prevail.