Dear MLB owners – play something else besides the National Anthem, Part Two

Let’s call this part the final part, The Closer: The National League.

Part One, The Starter, I delved into a bit of history regarding our ballyhooed National Anthem as well as provided somewhat cogent thoughts on what songs could replace the National Anthem for each American League city. Part Two, The Closer, we will hit the National League cities, but first a few questions:

Why the fuck are we playing the National Anthem at all? What patriotism comprises the beginning of a ballgame? Should we play a game before we battle another country? Is that what we should be doing now? Send our troops over to a foreign country and force them to play an American game before war games commence?

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Dear MLB owners – play something else besides the National Anthem, Part One

Let’s call Part One – First Starter: The American League

Is there a more perfect time to make a change in how you start a ballgame than now? It’s a question posited by fellow Fancy Boy Jake Breunig and frankly a damn good one.

Now Jake wrote a fabulous article about abolishing the National Anthem this past August. I will defer to him his over-arching replacement choice(s) and instead give each city their just due. However, let’s first take a look at our National Anthem. What we sing is not the entire song. Why? Well it’s what one could call a little shitty toward ‘freemen’ AKA ‘slaves who were freed yet still being treated like shit on both sides.’ As with every war involving America, only the poor and minorities are asked/told to pick up a rifle. During the War of 1812 (when Francis Scott Key wrote the poem that became a song… and later the anthem), freemen were not only ‘enlisted’ to fight for the American side, but the British took a lot of them and “allowed them to fight against their oppressors” which is code for “hello good dark chap, take this rifle and hustle up to the front lines and sacrifice yourself for our cause.”

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The things that didn’t make John Bolton’s new book

The things that didn’t make John Bolton’s new book

Former national security advisor John Bolton and his boss as fuck mustache are back in the news now that his book, The Room Where It Happened, is getting close to being published. Bolton, who refused to testify in the House impeachment proceedings and was blocked by senate republicans from testifying, has been attacked by President Trump by allegedly revealing classified information as well as just spilling some fun tea, like revealing that the most powerful man in the world believed Finland was part of Russia.

What people don’t know is that it was much worse.

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Stars And Barred

Stars And Barred

On April 9, 1865, in Virginia, General Robert E. Lee surrendered the Confederate Troops and ended the Civil War. At least, that’s what Wikipedia tells me, and they seem pretty darn professional about the whole thing.

With Lee’s surrender, our country began a new, unparalleled age of racial harmony and understanding. Gone were the days when people were judged by their skin color without any sort of social, legal or cultural ramifications. As for those who fought for an army seeking to divide the nation? They were judged as traitors and, while still allowed to live and prosper in this new tolerant and forgiving America, they would always be remembered with the blemish for the horrors the Confederacy supported as a reminder that we should never again attempt to divide the nation over the issues of race.

Oh, wait. What I meant was that, even though I live in northern Illinois, I still see dinguses with that stupid fucking confederate flag on their vehicles.

What the fuck happened?

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Is This How Democracy Ends?

Is This How Democracy Ends?

I wish I could write something inspiring. I wish I could write something that could bring people together. I wish I could write something that would at least make people stop and think. But I can’t. I am nobody. I’m just a speck on this earth. An organism that just happens to exist to see Democracy die.

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I Don’t Know What To Title This Story Without Sounding Like A Pretentious, Irritating Piece Of Garbage

As protests happen in Minnesota and there has yet to be an arrest in the murder of George Floyd, I sit here comfortably in my home drinking coffee in front of my laptop. I know the last thing anyone needs right now is the opinion of this tired, chubby white dude about race in this country. And, for the record, everyone is right.

That being said, all I can think about is this story. And I want to share it with you.

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Reflection at 20,000

Reflection at 20,000

Over the weekend, Fancy Boys Club hit 20,000 total views for a website. So, if you will all excuse me, I’m about to buy a jet and fly to an island, which I will also buy. See you later, dorks! Next time you see me, I’ll be writing for McSweeneys or some shit!

Look, I’m obviously aware that 20k is not a lot of views for a website. This is still just a place where I get to write nonsense and read some amazing work from writers I really love and admire. However, the last 9 months have been an absolute blast, and we’ve put out some really interesting and special work. I’m really proud of the Fancy Boys Club, and I hope you have enjoyed visiting us as much as we’ve enjoyed giving you things to read. Also, I look at my wordpress app every fifteen minutes to see how well our blogs are doing.

So, if you’ll indulge me, I have a few thoughts.

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Eating Totally Healthy during the Pandemic is for Suckers

There’s been, naturally and uber-naturally, a whole mouthful of talk about making sure you eat healthy during the pandemic – chow down on fresh fruits and veggies; make room for the legumes; make meat a treat.

It certainly makes some semblance of sense. Eating within some ballpark frank of health should be some sort of priority, for chances are most of you (not me of course) are spending some serious wads of time creating prodigious dents in your couch punching the clock watching HBO, Showtime, Amazon Prime, Disney+, Hulu, or Netflix.

By the way, anybody watch Ozark on Netflix? Holy crap what a delicious combination of the nasty smart and nasty dumb. Hillbillies and High-End crime are such a tasty combination!

OK, back to food. First, clasp hands and thank the Lord of Lard. Everything with taste has some sort of fat in it. Fight me all you want, but you know I am 135% correct.

Yeah, I’m putting nature’s bounty down my gullet, but c’mon, people. What do you want me to do? Try to turn my diet on a dime into chewing on Kale like a cow with its cud and letting absolutely no one know I’m the king of cuisine? Oh hell no. No one wants to see me post recipes of nasty-ass Kale dishes on social media.

KaledisplayChowhound

Speaking of Kale, are you aware Kale was once just a decoration (see above pic), a hard wave of green they’d put in and around buffets to try to gussy them up? Yeah, that was Kale – and now people are eating it rather than the vat of delicious banana pudding that somehow snuck its way into the salad bar section. Which, has an aside, I would like to meet the Dr. Evil of the Buffet who decided puddings were best placed in the salad section. Marketing genius.

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Bombs Away and we’re not Okay

What is it that I can do to make this young woman laugh? Hell, what is it I can do just to make her relax enough to uncross her arms?

She sat there staring at me. It felt like an eternity up there, trotting out 4 minutes of material about my mother. It wasn’t the best, but it had worked before. A few laughs here and there, enough to revise it, throw some parts out, try to add some in.

But it wasn’t working. Not on Rhiamon (not her real name but it fits). Whatever I had done to somehow suck out every single bit of bile from her and none of the laughter? That was working. It’s not what I wanted, but it was what I was going to get.

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Installing A Garage Door, Evaluating My Manhood…

Installing A Garage Door, Evaluating My Manhood…

A while ago, I went ahead and purchased a garage door opener. It found a good deal for a well-reviewed opener. According to the manual and everything I read, it should take about two hours to install this bad boy. Two weeks after opening the box, I was still working on it. And, in doing so, this task led me to face all of my old anxieties and fears and forced me to look in the mirror and question my masculinity.

This is one of those rabbit holes that is impossible for me to stop falling down once even a miniscule amount of momentum has begun. I hate that I let this happen and I hate what it says about me.

More importantly, however, I fucking hate this goddamned garage door opener.

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