Let us throw up at a ballgame, you and me.
Collars high, gents!
Wangs paraded, cavaliers!
Our testicles are covered by moss and lichen.
This is because they are boulders.
So let us throw up at a ballgame, you and me.
We enslave what we do not kill.
We do not visit places so much as we colonize them.
Wholesome, restorative brothels!
Pregnancies! Muzzle-loading weaponry! Crests on jacket breasts!
Yes, let us throw up at a ballgame, you and me.
Cannonade sex perpetrated with a buccaneering urgency!
Begin each day with a fresh haircut!
Solaced by the species difference between us and the middlebrow remainder!
Phalli forever as crisp as apples!
Lo, doughty brothers, let us throw up at this and every ballgame.
(This piece originally appeared at FanGraphs. It has since been revised and made even worse, probably.)