Wednesday, April 06, 2005  

Dark Days

News you can use: Madam Boulliard's Voudun Shoppe of New Orleans, Louisiana, only charges $29.95 for a genuine voodoo doll, and she doesn't even charge more for the extra padding it takes to make a David Wells. Damon's hair will cost you a ten spot, but she'll throw in a tiny copy of his book for free. Jeter you can buy in bulk. I ordered a 12-pack.

Dark days in Beantown. The Sox are in the Bronx, back to breaking hearts and muffing grounders. The pudknockers in pinstripes have a score to settle, and they are all business, while new kid on the block Edgar Renteria matches space cadet Manny whiff for whiff at the plate.

But it's baseball, a sure sign spring is here, and my winter novel on the morning train has given way to my summertime Herald (sports pages only - the rest of that rag is like a transcript of Bill O'Reilly's Greatest Hits). My bulky winter coat has been replaced with a new spring jacket so sleek and stylish that I'm pretty sure I'm technically bisexual when I wear it.

But even better, we were finally able to let Jude out of the house last night before bedtime. This kid has been suffering a serious case of cabin fever. I came home last week to find him buck naked except for a pair of light-up moon boots. He had climbed onto the kitchen counter and was licking the sides of a pilfered pudding cup, hunkered down like a caveman by a fire. The kid's gone feral, and there's only winter to blame. I won't be surprised if I find him taking a bite out of a robin redbreast in the back yard; a razor boomerang can't be far behind.

If I'm lucky, he'll slaughter our miserable beast of a cat before disappearing into the woods, only to be seen during full moons and high tides. The Medford Kid, they'll call him. Like the Jersey Devil, only a Red Sox fan. His legend will grow, and they will speak in hushed whispers that only He can stop Hideki Matsui, and there will come a time when Matsui-san misses a game at Fenway, and they find him in the showers, a bloody mess, the top of his head missing and the insides licked clean...LIKE A PUDDING CUP!!!

Unfortunately, a headless, brainless, undead Matsui could still probably hit around .300, and his fielding would probably improve. But these are the days we live in, my friends, where decapitated Japanese patrol left field and naked children live in the forest.

And where are the Republicans? Nowhere to be seen. Lots of talk about Social Security. Lots of blah blah blah about Terry Schiavo. But absolutely zilch about undead Asians! What's their zombie policy? Who knows? George Bush talks a great game about No Child Left Behind, but what about when that child lives in an azalea bush and eats strays? You bet your sweet ass he gets left behind, no question about it. More right wing smoke and mirrors while real issues go ignored.

No show to promote this week. I'm working, but it's a private fundraiser for some unnamed team sport in some vague suburb. Gigs like this are the paperwork of showbiz. You hate them, but you do them, because things cost money and your wife wants things.