Weekly Shot #4

Baseball & Biden

Baseball is back as of tomorrow and I’m embarrassed to say I’m excited. This can only mean that I’m officially old. When a game as slow paced as baseball gets my juices flowing then you know I’ve aged to a point where I can no longer be considered fun. As a young lad I’d wait until the playoffs before tuning in to any grueling three-hour long game with more breaks than Meineke, but now I’m at the point where sporting events that allot time for bathroom breaks and stretching are a necessity.

If you’re not a baseball fan, I get it. It’s a long, mostly boring game with spurts of action and the occasional homerun that will make you stand up out of your seat. Baseball is filled with a million little intricacies that make the game interesting but are largely unknown to the uninitiated. If you are getting up there in age and want to enjoy a relaxing sport then I suggest you find a friend who knows the difference between a curve ball and a change up and ask him to train you in the game’s subtler arts (thanks, Brandli!).

But this blog is less about baseball and more about age. A couple weeks ago Joe Biden addressed our nation. I watched the speech with nerves that our president was going to drool on the mic, drop dead, and Montel Williams’ ex-girlfriend would be president by the end of the night. I was pleasantly surprised that they dosed him with enough amphetamines that he was able to make it through the speech with a decent amount of vigor. They must have also given him a double dose of fillers in his forehead because his facial expression didn’t change for the entirety of the speech. He looked both angry and confused, like your run of the mill Real Housewife who got too much discounted plastic surgery.

But after watching the speech I had come to the sad realization that I am the Joe Biden of my household.

First, I talk too much. A full hour “address”? That was more like watching a baseball game than a speech. Every two minutes there was a standing ovation for the most banal statements. There was a home and away team. And this is just like my household. When I make a long and boring speech (or tell a story to my wife she has heard for the 16^th time) my daughter gives me a standing ovation, like the Democrats. My wife, on the other hand, sits with arms folded, expressionless, like the Republicans.

For two, I also need a form of narcotics to help keep up with my growing family. Zyns have saved my life during this past week of bringing home a newborn and watching a two-year-old. If you see me anytime within the next month (or six), understand there is a Zyn in my upper lip and it’s the only reason my eyes are open. I assume Joe’s cocktail is a little more potent than mine but we’re definitely both on performance enhancers to do our day job.

For three, I am mostly ignored. It’s been two weeks and whatever Joe Biden said in that speech has largely been forgotten. This is exactly what happens in my house. I tried to pass a law that we would order less stuff from Amazon. Didn’t happen. I made an executive order that we would watch less TV. Yea right. I wrote up a bill that stated I would go out with the boys to the bar once a week. This didn’t receive a single vote in the House of Representatives. It took a while, but I finally see that in this house I am viewed as an old washed-up figure head. And that description is pretty damn accurate.

So tomorrow, when I make a resounding speech on why I should be allowed to pour up a very large Ranch Water and kick back for a three-hour opening day baseball game with my eyes squinted and hopped up on Zyn, my wife will say yes because she treats me like an old senile president (and she loves me). But behind that ‘yes’ will be a Kamala Harris glare knowing damn well who really runs the fuckin show.