Today, Lyle, it is the baseball season, the chaos, the crisis, deniers and poo-pooer's chose. Those big rosters weren’t sitting there for no reason. Those stadiums weren’t empty for nothing. The spit tests, the masks, the hundred-and-something-page manual, the opt-outs, the Toronto Blue Jays as bums, those were all real.
But, then, Lyle, we also decided a month ago we had the stomach for baseball in a pandemic, that we could live with other people in that arena, that what we really needed was a distraction from the real world. Meanwhile, they’re spitting in test tubes in hotel rooms in Philadelphia and waiting for their cell phones to ding with the news that they’re sick or not. And dozens have come back sick as dogs, positive, wiped out.
It’s bad, really bad, which, of course, is precisely what it would be. Remember, ~ we ~ were good with that.


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