"I dreamt I saw Phil Oakes last night". So sung Billy Bragg in his 1990 homage to fallen socialist idolatry "The Internationale".
I dreamt I was Johnny Damon last night. I dreamt it was the eighth inning with bases loaded. I dreamt it was postseason at Yankee stadium. I dreamt that the hopes of the good and the righteous rested upon my belocked shoulders and that
i was about to tie the game and the series. I dreamt that I dreamt about getting a haircut or shaving. The dream was good. It's the closest i'll ever come to actually playing in the postseason. I was just about to dream on when I was attacked by a mysterious killer bug inflicting it's last wish upon my sleepy flesh. I leapt out of bed, swatted about a bit, woke up Beth and eventually succumbed to a Benedryl enhanced sleep.
I was Johnny Damon, I was.
3 comments:
Yes you were Benny, Yes you were.
From Johnny D.
My hair is luxurious and beautiful. Stroke it and feel the power.
Dear Heloise,
SO ITS YOUR DAMN FAULT! Let the real Damon out of that closet you have him trapped in and for the love of God get him to Fenway for tonight's turn around game.
May the agents of Fidel Castro sieze El Duque a la Elian Gonzalez.
Yours,
Hurting in Maine
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