Whenever there's some kind of mass killing or attack in this country, it totally ruins my productivity at work. I'm like, “Whoa, hey, who can think of work at a time like this? People died. American people. Maybe even good American people. No fucking way am I being productive right now. What a tragic world.”
The Little League people canceled my nephew's game today because of a tragedy in Boston, more than a thousand miles away. Every time people don't want to work because of some tragedy that most likely didn't affect them I'm like, “Whoa, hey. It's not the end of the world here. Do your job you lazy sumbitch.”
We all grieve in our own ways.
A lot of people in Boston finished the marathon despite the bombing. I totally would have done that too. If I were to ever run a marathon, that is. Which I won't. I won't even run from the cops for more than thirty minutes. Once I start getting winded, jail sounds pretty good.
Today is Jackie Robinson Day all across the major leagues. All the players are wearing his number, 42. And if I could name just one thing that made Jackie Robinson awesome it would be this: he never blew up any part of an American city. He was cool like that.
If, and I would never do this but for the sake of hypotheticals here goes, if I were to plan a terrorist attack on this country I would totally pick a major sporting event. When you bomb America's most favorite marathon, even ESPN has to cover that shit. No burying your head in the sports page when the explosion happens at a major sporting event. A pity, too. I like my sports like I like my women: diverting my attention from what really matters.
Because I left all of my logic and fluidity in a world where people don't blow each other up and everyone loves each other and all breasts are perky, I leave you with the following, which I overheard at the gym:
“The Boston Marathon, that's in Connecticut, right?”