Lucifer’s Icicles and the Irony of A-Roid

I was going to write this weekend about other matters, topics worth covering; however an event of shape-shifting proportions has taken place, an inversion of the world order so bizarre that it trumps all other happenings, if only for a day. What are the signs?

Icicles dangle from the nostrils of an uncontrollably shivering Beelzebub, frigid Antarctic blasts spreading across his darkest and most diabolical catacombs, all flames fading fast, every square centimeter of brimstone becoming coated with frost. What hath wrought such heretofore impossible chilling of the deepest lairs of the underworld?

First, please gather pillows and cushions. Place them all around and beneath where you sit, ensuring a soft, padded surface upon which to land in the event of fainting. I wouldn’t want you to be harmed by what you are about to read–news so shocking, so incomprehensible, so utterly absurd, ridiculously unbelievable yet true, that all manner of uncertain but potentially alarming consequences may result.

If a trusted friend or loved one isn’t immediately present, notify next of kin in the event that your reaction is more intense than a mere loss of consciousness. Grip a stable surface firmly with both hands, and place a clean cloth or towel between your teeth. Take two or three slow, deep breaths.

Now please take several moments to read the following sentence slowly, carefully, digestively, and with all due contemplation, while I assure to the best of my ability that you neither are sleeping nor inadvertently have ingested a potent hallucinogen.


Yes, you read that correctly. The Texas Rangers are bound for the World Series, and quite fittingly, after striking out despised former Ranger “A-Roid” looking to end the ALCS finale against the hated Skankees.

Only Chicago Cubs fans can come close to comprehending this, and even that team has not been so woebegone and inept for so long during the same period of time. One truly must be a longtime Rangers follower to grasp this with due perspective.

After fifty years of inexplicable futility and weirdness, 39 of them in Arlington, this franchise finally heals a snakebite that has been festering for decades!

This is the same team where a pitcher once was found in a catatonic trance, a manager rammed trees with his car for fun, another pitcher stole a sportswriter’s book from his hands and proceeded to eat it, a helicopter hired to dry the turf crashed into it instead, another pitcher busted his hand while attacking a water cooler, four managers came and went in one week, a fly ball bounced off the outfielder’s head for a homer, a ballboy wore tape on his mouth for badmouthing a TV announcer, a manager broke a clubhouse mirror by throwing a baked potato, yet another pitcher set his beard on fire with a flaming drink, a parachutist missed the field and landed instead on a flagpole, still another pitcher lost a game by committing a walk-off balk, a different pitcher was pulled from a game for his awful performance while in the middle of a no-hitter, last place was the most familiar place, and numerous players and managers passed through only to win World Series elsewhere. And now, mere months after declaring bankruptcy, the comically improbable has come true for this franchise!

Should the Rangers actually win the World Series, the cryogenically preserved head of their first Arlington Stadium manager (Ted Williams) will look like that of a giant ignited match compared to the glacial conditions that will envelop hell itself.


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