Manny Happy Returns?

Tiki has graciously invited me to contribute to her blog. I have been hard pressed to come up with a topic, as I generally like to write in the evenings and lately I have been preoccupied between 6-11 p.m. being lectured by consumnate professional Mike Adams on what is expected of an employee. if I ever get a job, I hope to apply his valuable lessons. Also, did you know Jim Lonborg is a dentist? Mikey knows everything about doing your job clearheaded and the 1967 Red Sox. Anyway, as I was struggling to fill this space I was fortunate enough to hear from a colleague in California named Bill, who, do to a debilitating case of the sniffles, has not been able to turn his computer on for weeks. He was, however, able to courageously dial my number, and, sotto voce, dictate the following screed.

West Hollywood, California: 4 O'clock thursday came (noon out here...pretty early for a trade deadline, don't you think? If Billy Beane is anything like me, he would have just got his wife to stop screeching about the baby in time to sit down to Small Wonder on TBS). Manny was still with the Sox...I breathed a sigh of relief. Was it time for him to go? Yes...and no. But also, maybe. Trust me here. I had 2500 words written that clearly, unequivocally stated my position on this. There was no way my position on whether Manny should stay or go could be construed by anyone, even some cynical blogger, as being ambivalent. So I had it all ready to go, the phone rings...my friend Jimmy (he has a TV show...on at night. Late at night.) called me. He broke up with his girlfriend Sara (she's an actress and a comedian...on TV, in movies...show business! Proximity! So...close....please....) Huh? Where was I? So I'm talking to Jimmy, and then I get a text from Beansie (I can't print it here, but you would have rotflyao. Trust me.) When I finally got back to the computer, my text was gone, and staring back at me was an Usweekly website! The bitch! Who is better for Selena Gomez, Nick Jonas or Shia LaBeouf? Duh...Ni- I mean, who gives a fuck? Sports! Gambling! Champagne room! Anyway, I was devastated. I craft my columns, and each column is like giving birth to 5000 children. I swear, that was the reason I got sick. I locked the door and barely summoned up the energy to masturbate.

So now starts the post-Manny era. One part of me feels it had to happen. He was a distraction, he was obsessed with his contract above the team, and he hates America. Another part of me feels he should still be here, along with Dave Roberts, Curtis Leskanic, Kurt Cobain, and Joe E. Tata. Seriously, Joe E. can't be on one of the 2,317 Law and Orders or CSIs? When I'm running TNT4, I swear...oh, who am I kidding? I'll never run a network. You have to be in the office, like, 4 days a week and I've got a family at home. Why did I get married? God, I miss college. It's been almost 10 years (ed. note: 20) since I graduated...staying up until almost 2 am, drinking 7-8 Bud Lights, guys smoking pot just one room over...um...you just don't take a Hall of Fame bat out of the middle of the lineup. And the antics! Who is going to do the wacky ethnic 12 point handshakes with Ortiz? Lugo's hurt, Cora's a backup...Coco? What if the instructions are in Spanish? These are the things that keep me up at night. There's a third part of me feels that my spec script for Entourage wasn't even given a chance! Back in Greenwic- Boston, we had one guy named Salamander, a guy named D, and a guy we just called Music. Now everyone's doing it. Whatever.

The page is turned. The greatest right handed hitter in Red Sox history is now out here in Los Angeles, the land of whimsy, wonder, and pain-in-the-ass wives. Will he fit in here? Yes. No. Yes? But possibly, no. I can tell you this much, I'll be watching. As long as Dodger games don't conflict with It's Your Move reruns. I remember as a kid writing in my Trapper Keeper "Bateman-keep your eye on....possible straight man? Catch phrase...I've done it now...no...I'm in for it...no....I've made a huge mist-"

It was here that our brave auteur succumbed to his double shot of dayquil and drifted off to sleep. I don't know if his many ailments will allow him to continue our correspondence, but I thank him for helping me make this deadline. Tiki really cracks the whip. Hopefully I will find the inspiration to write something on my own soon...but until then, you can be sure I'll be checking my phone for any calls coming from area code 310! cheers. cw.