**eastward movement is included


i accumulate wealth in the form of headaches and general disdain for humanity.

The clouds are growing thicker, the days obviously shorter, mass-brooding is eminent.

i love the asterisk and use it quite frequently, as many of my readers {is it up to six now? seven? I know my parents are afraid to read this} have seen. Whether it is this blog, the over-thought and over-designed myspace comment, or the occasional office email, it is without question the perfect disarmament; a miniature, whimsical, perhaps childish conversational enhancer, and hardly more …

… and here comes heroic fashion designer/asshole marc ecko to throw a stick in my spokes.

Speaking in an interview with the AP about his recent purchase, prostitution, and promotion of Barry Bonds’ record setting home run ball, "This is obviously something that struck a chord with fans," Ecko arrogantly proclaimed. How was the decision made to let the fans decide what happens to the ball? The guy literally got drunk with his friends, started an argument with his boys debating the home run record & its validity, and proceeded to blurt out, “we’ll let America settle the debate.” My fucking hero. First I was speechless. Then incensed. Now color me horrified. Did I mention I’m buying stock in Zoo York right this moment?

But before all you libertarian-slanted readers spit your coffee all over the screen, let me explain why am I so opposed to the public deciding the fate of what used to be the most sought after artifact in baseball.

It is major league baseball’s responsibility to maintain the purity … hell, the integrity of the game {at least what is left of it} by exercising some control in a situation like this. While I understand that Bud Selig and his staff of autistic toddlers haven’t authored the book of ‘good professional sports management’ {see: the mlb collective bargaining agreement, a borderline apathetic and lenient steroid/drug testing, a Schwarzenegger-like players’ union, etc.} I would hope that at some point, the commissioner would grow a pair and at least attempt to preserve history. It’s irresponsible. It’s reprehensible. It makes me disgusted to be a sports fan.

Yes, the hall of fame’s job is to chronicle the game of baseball and how it has unfolded and developed. Yes, ten million people have ‘spoken.’ Yes, the media has convinced the public that it’s okay to hypocritically cheer Bonds towards the inevitable demolition of Aaron’s record and curse him simultaneously while he rounds the bases {and for that matter, when he fails to do so.} But while I have not visited Cooperstown myself {I obviously plan to} I’m going to assume every jersey, catcher’s mitt and jock strap contained in those walls was not doctored or altered in such a way. Autographing a ball just isn’t as foreign as a branded mark.

Morever, Ecko sounds like a delusional prick. He probably drives a Boxter, dogmatically compliments most meals ranch dressing, thinks ‘Mind of Mencia’ is hilarious and summers in Cancun. Further underscoring how hilariously unqualified he is to make this decision is the fact that he owns a fashion company. Of course he’s a sports fan. Of course he has the ‘answer.’

This is the sort of self-aggrandizing, maniacal, narcissism that pushes me past fury – now I’m just plain confused. Am I the only one who thinks he’s just stroking his ego? Self-promoting? Scraping the earth for publicity? Desperate for attention?

What’s worse is that he thinks he’s doing the right thing by putting the ball in the fan’s court. Bullshit. If you’re going to claim you’re doing the right thing by giving people three votes {1. placed untouched in the hall of fame, 2. branded with an asterisk, or 3. SHOT INTO OUTER SPACE!? Are you kidding me??} at least give them some reasonable, mature options. Don't insult us, please.

Ecko is simply perpetuating a truth that he’s probably too stupid to even understand in the first place; the average person will simply accept things as they are. Questioning is out, acceptance is in. ignorance is bliss and a virtue. So while my fellow ksu bloggers are finding form, waxing poetic on everything positive Wichita, and crushing Tolstoy’s left and right, I’m complaining about pop culture’s impact on baseball. Needless to say, Corbin’s stock hasn’t been much lower.


words I continue to have difficulty spelling correctly >

architecture {I swear this isn’t a joke.}


I recently came across a new band {at least they’re new to me} from Portland called Pseudosix. It’s beautiful, wonderful, soothing; all things my mind needs right now. I’m probably just hyper-aware, and will most likely discontinue spinning this record by the time I finish this blog, but for now I’m feeling better. I also listened to Tom Waits as I typed, and will attribute this post’s abrasive nature to it.

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New York, New York, United States
I take myself too seriously most of the time and I am trying to do that less. I remind some people of Woody Allen. I occationally indulge in the weekend camping trip. I adamantly support the Kansas City Royals baseball club. My identity is wrapped up in a few simple things, most of which are continuously displayed on this here blog.

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