Hey, Hopeless Joe here. I am writing this from sunny Orlando, Florida, where I have come for a little spring training getaway. It’s spring, it’s warm, everything’s going great (except for my pesky ragweed allergy)… except there doesn’t seem to be any baseball here right now, so I’m not really sure what I’ve done wrong.
I mean, I intended to check the schedule, but my Internet’s been down ever since 9/11, so I don’t really have any access to information. I just figured I was pretty safely in that “spring” window, and since I hadn’t heard anything about the regular season starting (I haven’t gotten a newspaper since the New York Sun folded its print edition, and my cable package only gives me access to Spanish-language children’s cartoons and Dog TV — which I love, by the way), I figured I’d be fine.
And then some kid on line for Space Mountain (too scary for me, I tell ya — I don’t do anything that involves space OR mountains) tells me that the season’s been going on for six weeks, and the BREWERS are in first place. Clearly he was kidding about the Brewers, so I didn’t know whether to believe him about the season… but why would they call it spring training if pretty much all the games happen in winter? That’s like when I thought I was invited to a “winter holiday party” but no one ever told me where or when it was, and so every day from December until March I waited for a call from my “friend” who was hosting the party, and he never called, and then he said we were never really friends, and my therapist says I should get over it, and– you see how it’s sort of the same thing, right?
So I don’t know what to do in Orlando without spring training games. I just wanted to do the tomahawk chop with Mickey Mouse, but I guess that isn’t going to happen. I tried to find something to eat but all they sell here are mouse droppings, and that same kid on line for Space Mountain just finished the ride and came back over here and vomited on my shoes.
This isn’t even the first time someone has vomited on these shoes.
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