Kill The Ghost In Your Soul

The Cleveland Indians quit winning this past weekend, approximately two weeks after former skipper Eric Wedge’s new club did. Poor, poor Eric Wedge. He shaved his glorious facial hair in hopes of breaking the Mariners’ two week losing streak. How will he ever regain Casey Blake’s affection (or get a guest spot on Game of Thrones) as a clean shaven man?

At this point, following the Indians is like hanging out with your one high school friend who never forsake the band Night Ranger. You show up at his house for a barbecue, and he offers you a Natural Light, then proceeds to tell you that he has finally figured out what Kelly Keagy meant he penned “You’re motoring.” Your pal gives you a slightly different version than he told you the last time you were there, and then tells you Man in Motion is starting to grow on him, and that you should give it another listen.

At this point, you snap, “That album came out twenty-three years ago, and was a piece of shit then. It hasn’t improved with age. I’m not listening to the damn thing! Besides, they died with Big Life anyway.” He then pouts and you feel bad, so you tell him to put on Seven Wishes, and suddenly you are on Sentimental Street, taking a good hard look at ain’t nothing new. You wonder why you keep coming over this guy’s house when you have so many other friends who listen to good music and don’t drink piss water.

As if on cue, your buddy starts talking about Natural Light. “It isn’t one of those pussy beers that you put a fruit in. It’s the type of beer that commands you to drink twenty of. Those candy ass microbrews only tell you to drink two or three, then you are done for the night. Not so with the N-L. You can drink it all night long, and still get it up for the old lady.” You reach for another, knowing it is going to be a long night. Still, you stay because it is the only thing going on.

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