3B
Wears a St. Louis hat.
ROY win, 3 MVP wins. 3 other top 5 MVP finishes. Top 20 all-time in 9 statistical categories (HR, Hits, RBI, Runs, Slg, OBP, OPS, Avg, SB)
There are no two ways about it – Nabokov was ahead of his time. Still, let’s be honest here: in real life, Humbert Humbert doesn’t look or act like James Mason. At all.
TARGET
3B
Wears a Brooklyn hat.
ROY win, 1 MVP win. 3 other top 5 MVP finishes. Top 20 all-time in 8 statistical categories (HR, Hits, RBI, Runs, Slg, OBP, OPS, Avg)
Like Wal*Mart, not really the corporate entity but a third-rate alter-ego that bears some tangential relationship to the corporate entity. Still, TARGET’S singlemindedness is occasionally funny, in kind of the same way that saying “Tar-zhay” is funny. In other words, not really, unless you’re a mom.

Francis Macomber
RP
Wears a St. Louis hat.
ROY top 5. 8 Fireman Awards plus 1 other top 5 finish. Top 20 in 3 statistical categories (Saves, ERA, WHIP)
Some people might consider a story about a pathetic middle-aged man who has to go on a hunting trip to prove he’s not a sissy to his castrating wife, only to ultimately be shotgunned to death by the wife because he can’t shoot straight, to be an example of Hemingway’s rampant misogyny. But I’d like to remind you that Papa didn’t truck with no homosexuals either (a theme we will continue to explore in our next biography). Either way, I think we can all agree on this much – don’t take your wife hunting with you.

SP
Wears a St. Louis hat.
8 Cy Young awards plus 3 other top 5 finishes. Top 20 all-time in 5 statistical categories (Wins, Shutouts, ERA, WHIP, K's)
Good Lord did those early 20th century authors dislike women. At least Gatsby had the good sense to live the good life and (presumably) bed a lot of hot New York debutantes before he was destroyed by his love of a woman who, ultimately, probably didn’t give a shit about him anyway.
Zelda Fitzgerald was convinced F. Scott and Ernest Hemingway were having an affair but honestly, she was a woman so what the fuck does she know about the love that dare not speak its name. Hussy.

No comments:
Post a Comment