Baseball's back -- catch the excitement!

Pitchers and catchers report! The endlessly long baseball season, dormant for only about eight minutes there back in January, is about to explode in a big way, consuming all of our national fucking attention and filling our workplaces with nonstop prattle about "K's" and "ERA's" and "on-base-percentage" and "please put that gun down."

Oh, the joy of hearing 34-year-old men obsess infinitely over fantasy baseball ephemera in the workplace; the delight one receives from having repetitive, stentorian ballgame play-by-play retold across the room; lo, the pleasure inherent in seeing a gang of date-raping, steroid-infused, anti-social, firecracker-and-bleach-throwing, borderline-personalities elevated to august, sun-dappled demigods.

Let the Boys of Summer play on and on and on and on and on and on. Me? I'll be chilling with my north Vietnamese friend from above, enjoying the bliss of a gunshot wound to the temple that will spare me ever having to hear anything astroturf-related again.