Thursday, May 01, 2008

What's the buzz? Tell me what's-a happening

Why should you want to know?
Why are you obsessed with fighting
Times and fates you can't defy?
If you knew the path we're riding,
You'd understand it less than I.

- Jesus

So I've been feeling a little bit dejected, neglected, and ... I dunno, disinfected this week, because CBRAT has been one of the very few sports-related blogs not to be personally savaged and excoriated by (Luddite sportswriter) Buzz Bissinger.

Well, this is kind of a sports-related blog. I talk about baseball sometimes. And then when I'm done talking, I remember that I have to type the words, or else they don't show up on the screen. And then I give up and go do something else, usually involving a nap.

Anyway ... I've been trying to figure out how to get on the "Buzz hates me" bandwagon. In case you have noooo fucking idea what I'm talking about, here's what that bastion of all things approximately 60% accurate, give or take (Wikipedia®) has to say, by way of short synopsis:

Bissinger has self-professed "abiding hatred" for blogs and the "blog-o-sphere", and recently launched an angry tirade against sports blogger Will Leitch on Bob Costas' HBO sports show.

Yeah, calling that an "angry tirade" is sort of like calling "well, it's okay, it's kinda tasty" an "understatement," with regard to, say, "chocolate gelato." Which is to say, not nearly hyperbolic enough. Or, at least that's the, heh, "buzz" around the "fuck-you-o-sphere." I haven't seen said aforementioned show in question at issue yet, as of this writing.

But I know one thing that Buzz and I have in common -- and I hope to earn his loogee-hocking enmity via this route -- we share a birthday. I mean, we share my birthday. Our birthday, I guess. He can have, let's say, 33.333% of the rights to it. Although I don't think I really owe him any, since I'm the one who just called dibs on it. Uh, I mean -- Dibs! Dibs on November 1! Yep, we were both born on November 1 -- Buzz is just 13 smarty-pants-despising years older than myself. And if I know Buzz as well as I think I know him (which is not well at all -- barely, really; you might even say, none), I figure he's going to be really, really cheezed in the whiz that some knuckleheaded blogger (who refuses to even take anything seriously, even) has usurped his birthday -- the sacred day on which his hallowed, flesh-&-blood Mater extruded him from her loinage, like a watermelon seed popped from betwitxt her meaty thumb and forefinger -- and has probably converted it into 1s and 0s or some other anti-humanistical purgatorial cyborgical born-on-date, with the modem and the codec and the codem and the modec or whatever them kids got these days, with the texting and the faxes and the movable type. Damn you, Gutenberg! Damn you to hell!!!

Yeah. So that's what I'm counting on.

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