The Houston Astros had the worst record in professional baseball last year with 106 losses.
After trading away veterans and remaining talent to teams still in contention for some prospects, they’re on track to lose even more.
I still watch the games, though.
First off, we’re coming up on September, and that’s when the rosters expand and they can call up players from the minors. They’ll play their hearts out, either making amazing plays or hilarious mistakes trying to impress.
Even better, nothing’s funnier than a play-by-play announcer for a lousy team.
What, you thought I’d PAY to see them?
Category: My stories
Jim
I went to college before the advent of the Internet and music piracy. The compact disc was king, and they were sold in long boxes meant to fit within the record store racks as the records themselves were on the wane.
The long boxes served as cheap miniature posters, easily tacked or taped to the walls to advertise our taste (or lack of taste) in music.
The Best Of The Doors hung above a candle, and at night we’d light this shrine to Reverend Jim Morrison.
Instead of spending hours praying to him for better grades, I should have studied.
Rico
No matter how much the equipment improves, some guys still don’t make it.
We hang their helmets on the wall at Jimmy’s Bar. It’s tradition to tap each of the helmets on the way to the toilet.
It’s late. Everybody’s hammered.
That’s when the pagers go off. All of them.
Captain walks along the bar, checking eyes and hands.
Rico’s got our keys, so he’s not drunk like the rest of us.
“Go,” says the captain, and he reports the rest of us Not Available.
After the funeral, we went to Jimmy’s.
This is Rico’s helmet.
Go ahead. Tap it.
100 Bottles
There are a hundred bottles of beer on the wall.
But I’m not going to take one down and pass it around.
Because I paid for all this beer, and instead of keeping it in the fridge or a cooler like I suggested, my stupid roommates lined the bottles up on the wall.
A few bottles have already fallen off the wall and shattered. Who will clean up this mess?
I pick up a bottle, open it, drink the beer, and break it on the counter.
Waving it around, I shout: “STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BEER, YOU IDIOTS!”
Of Industry
After graduating from Harvard, Arthur became a very successful businessman, and grew his company into legendary size.
But despite his success, he never gave a dollar to Harvard, refusing to meet representatives from the Alumni Fundraising Committee.
Only after he died did he leave money to his alma mater, along with a note:
“Harvard is where captains of industry such as myself are created. Why create more competition? So, I gave money to state colleges to educate the corporals and cannon fodder of industry I needed to hire.”
The alumni representative shrugged, crumpled up the note, and deposited the check.
Chopper
I’ve always been too afraid to ride in a helicopter.
Planes don’t scare me, and it’s not a fear of heights.
It’s just something scary to me.
A friend surprised me by taking me to a heliport and trying to get me in the helicopter for a tour.
I refused, so they got in to show how safe it is.
And they crashed.
The airport’s pretty far out, so another helicopter pilot offered to fly them to the hospital.
I declined the offer to ride along.
Now, I’m regretting it. I should have gone with.
Bitch has the car keys.
Down For The Count
Van Helsing was leaving Dracula’s castle when the police arrived.
“I tried to stop him!” he claimed. “But The Count was too strong for me! He got into a coffin and pounded a stake through his own chest!”
He took them down into the crypt and showed them the corpse.
A mallet was in Dracula’s hand, right where Van Helsing had placed it.
His left hand.
“Wasn’t he right-handed?” said one of the police.
Van Helsing pulled out his wallet and gave them each twenty gold crowns. “No, he was a lefty.”
The men all smiled and agreed.
Case closed.
Summoning
I went out into the woods with my backpack full of bacon and candles, looking for the perfect spot.
Aha. A clearing.
Perfect.
I set down the heavy backpack, opened it up, and began opening up the packages of bacon.
Arranging the strips in a pentagram, I placed candles at each of the five points.
Then, I took off all of my clothes, I wove the remaining strips of bacon into a loincloth, and pulled it on.
After I lit the candles, I swayed and chanted, hoping to summon something from The Bacon Universe.
Instead, the fire department showed up.
Collapse
Everybody thought that the economy was recovering, but the biggest bank in the country collapsed.
But it wasn’t like all the other banks collapsing.
It literally collapsed.
Not financially. Those numbers were sound.
The bank itself. The building.
Collapsed.
Bricks, glass, drywall, and everything in the building collapsed into a pile, and a plume of dust filled the air for blocks around.
All the bankers showed up to work, scratched their heads, and then went to the bank next door.
That bank had collapsed financially, so the offices were empty.
It was a tight squeeze.
But they made it work.
Coffins
I don’t understand the logic of spending so much effort on a beautiful coffin just to stick it in the ground.
So I began to haul the coffins back up, seal the bodies in bags, and bury them again while cleaning off the coffins for reuse.
In the off-chance that a body needs to be disinterred, I get a warrant in advance, so I can haul the body back up and stick it in a coffin for them to pick up.
I’ve made a fortune in profit, selling coffins over and over.
If only this racket worked with the headstones.