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  • May Rocktober reign supreme

    The World Series is almost upon us.

    In one corner, we've got the team that, absent the New York Yankees, has the highest payroll in baseball, without a care in the world about how much its spending. In the other corner, we've got a team with a lower-tier payroll and a national profile that's non-existent.

    While I've been a fan of the Milwaukee Brewers since I knew what baseball was, it was around the 1992 expansion draft that a friend and I were talking about wanting to be fans of a team from its inception. We had a choice between the Colorado Rockies and the Florida Marlins. We chose the Rockies.

    Not too long after that, I won a bet with someone concerning the outcome of a Mizzou - Oklahoma State basketball game, and my winning was a Rockies baseball cap. Fitted. 7 1/4".

    I wore that cap a lot over the first five years of the Rockies' existence. The Blake Street Bombers were exciting, though not particularly good. Better than the Brewers, though. Burks, Walker, Galarraga, Castilla, Bichette. That was fun baseball.

    Then the move to the Eastern Time Zone and a gradual decline in the Rockies' competitiveness kinda forced me to lose track of Colorado. Like the Brewers, when a team isn't at least competitive, the team doesn't ever show up on television.

    So this year was a good year for my two favorite teams. Milwaukee choked in the second half with lousy pitching, but stuck it to the Padres on the last weekend to give the Rockies a shot.

    And the Rockies were on national TV, playing their 163rd game of the season. First time all year they'd gotten a national broadcast, albeit on TBS (which had gone HD just days before, lucky me).

    Eight wins later, they're in the World Series against the bleeping Red Sox.

    I'm not rooting against the Sox just because they're playing the Rockies. I'm rooting against the Red Sox because I hate them, too. If the Red Sox and the Yankees simply vanished, I couldn't be happier about life.

    You don't have to hate the Red Sox to root for the Rockies, though. You could just hate the big money clubs that spend their way to the Series instead of working the hard way to get there. 

  • Where are you?

    Where's all of those "Ditch Mitch and Rich" UK fans now?


    #17 UK 43

    #1 LSU 37 

  • Where have you been?

    Welcome back to Logtown. Time doesn’t pass as quickly here as in the real world, but nonetheless, things have changed. I’m a new narrator. The old narrator, with the sultry, sexy, female voice, has been replaced. I’m an old man, with a gravelly voice. Don’t confuse us.

    Simon is now dating a watermelon. He’s happy about that, but the cantaloupe he dumped is not. The cantaloupe is peering angrily in the window at Simon and his watermelon. Maybe someone will file a restraining order if they ever notice.

    Richie has started scanning the local want ads for a new job. In Logtown, the want ads are typed on a sheet of paper and stapled to the back of the outhouse near the school. So far, Richie hasn’t found much interesting.

    Fletcher is still pretty much a loser. His diet of less-than-healthy food has led to extreme bouts of flatulence, which is becoming dangerous with Richie still chain-smoking cigarettes. I wonder who will write the story when the mobile home explodes during a game of Madden when those two things mix fatally.

    I’m glad I’m just narrating, and not sitting in that trailer with them.

    Young MC? Glad you asked. Actually, I’m glad you remembered him. Because he’s just walked through the door, and he doesn’t look happy.

    Richie: Hey, Young, what’s going on? You want to play Fletcher? He’s kicking my ass, as usual.

    Young MC: No, I don’t want to play. That game sucks. Why can’t we get an X-Box?

    Fletcher: Because nobody wants to pay for one.

    Simon (to his watermelon): Where do you want to eat tonight, darling?

    Young MC: I need a new name. I’m sick of everyone calling me ‘Young MC.’

    Richie: Why?

    Young MC: Because everyone keeps asking me if I want to Bust a Move. And it’s old. And starting to get annoying.

    Fletcher: (starts making noises that sound something like the song that Young MC hates)

    Young MC: (glares at Fletcher)

    Fletcher: (ignores Young MC, keeps making noises, begins to shimmy his shoulders)

    Richie: When’s the pizza gonna get here?

    Simon: I don’t know. But I’m not staying for dinner. We’re going to Burger King.

    Well, I’m not going to sit here and wait for the boys’ pizza to arrive. You can, but I’m not going to tell you what’s going on. While you’re waiting, if you’ve got an idea for Young MC’s new moniker, why don’t you share it with us?