You're Killin' Me, Smalls

I've voted.

Last night, I repaired to the downstairs TV room to watch the San Francisco Giants. Since my beloved but dreadful Rockies are out (and have been since May) I'm rooting for SF against despised Matt Holliday and his Cardinals of St. Louis. I pour a Chardonnay, settle onto our overstuffed couch and flip on the big screen.

Two well-coiffed guys in five thousand dollar suits are standing nose to nose on a stage, speaking into microphones. It appears a rap competition has broken out at a conference of chief financial officers. "Yo, Yo, your incompetent ministrations have emboldened our enemies and cast consequential aspersions on our allies," says one. "Chill, Homey," the other replies. "I envision defenestration regarding your impolitic remarks." At least, that's what I think they said because, recognizing another political ad, I've muted the sound.

Click.

Alma mater Syracuse is playing Connecticut before the usual packed house at the Carrier Dome. Football, and the game appears lopsided, with the Orange on the correct side of the lop. We score another touchdown and the network goes to commercial.

Apparently, some guy I never heard of, running for an obscure political office, sells drugs to children. Or, he used to. I assume the point is that this is a disqualifier, even in Colorado.

Click.

The Sandlot. Ah, to be young again. This movie is an ode to the old days, when ten or twelve of us would grab our gloves, find a field and play baseball until it got dark. Parents were relieved we had something productive to do, left us alone and didn't much involve themselves. The game wasn't about them. I tuned in just in time to hear the famous "You're killing me, Smalls" as they load up on chew, get on the amusement park ride and throw up everything they'd eaten since birth. The simple and innocent joys of boyhood. They pause, to let the scene sink in.

Did you know that a candidate for Congress wants you - yes, you - to die of an illness research might have prevented? It's true! Or...not.

Click.

Back to baseball, and not a second too soon. How come no one has invented a chip for the TV that tells it I've already voted. I've made my decision. I'll tune in on a Tuesday in November to see who wins. In the meantime, leave me the frick alone!