Softball: Gross (A Brief Report on my Startling Visit to the Wetted Mother Soils)
Dear People,
As you may have heard, we were totally hosed and thus couldn't play.
Nevertheless, life goes on, and after a succulent community brunch of crepes, cognac and cheery confabulation, I decided to visit Codornices. The fact is I was worried sick about her, for I knew that the rains had been enduring, brutal and annoyingly moist, and I simply needed to know that she would be OK. Just as I arrived, the sun broke through the sinister nimbostratus clouds, and though my hands were trembling and my belly was heavy, I was immediately relieved to see that she was still there-muddy and battered, to be sure-yet also defiantly alive. It was exactly 12:47 as I walked onto the slushy clays of the deeply wounded infield, and there, as I looked down into one of the new malarial gunk-ponds, I suddenly found myself transfixed by what was easily the most sublime display of nature-in-ferment that I've ever witnessed-Worms! Thousands and thousands of slimy, hideous little worms. Needless to say, I nearly threw up right then and there.
As you can imagine, I was overwhelmed by a panoply of emotions. After my initial revulsion, I soon found myself outraged that they had exploited our absence to seize our own homeland. They clearly had not gotten a field reservation, yet they slithered about shamelessly, even crawling out of the ponds as if they owned every inch from home plate to the pitcher's mound. Yet after a couple minutes, I realized that I was being too harsh, and that in the end, they themselves were victims of nature's random hissy-fits. Indeed, I decided to squat down in order to get a better look, and as I observed and opened my heart, it soon hit me that each and every individual aschelminth had its own unique fears, hopes and personality. Alas, though, I had not yet viewed the Khan Academy's module on Vermicular Neurodevelopment, and so despite my best efforts, I was unable to speak to them in their native Worme.
The point is that I was thinking of closing down this league for the upcoming winter, since it's predicted to be a wet one that will give our community more aerobic heartbreak than any peoples should ever be forced to bear. But then I started thinking about this compelling new civilization of teeming gray spaghetti-heads who've been coyly living just inches beneath our very feet, and who I'm convinced cheer us on with every match we play. No, my friends, I think you know that I know that we're not going to wimp out on our greatest subterranean fans, and therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond
PS: Distant Kin of the Current Generation:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rq676FJR2U
12/7/12
Softball: Garden-Ready
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now there are two slots left.
Please bring $4 for the field, which, if necessary for the removal of certain residual puddles, includes my robust collection of shovels, rakes and hoes. Yeah; Filthy, lecherous rakes…Raymond 845-7552