Why anyone gifted enough to become a Major League Baseball player would ever give it all up to pursue a priesthood that follows an entity as tangible as the tooth fairy is certainly a question I cannot answer.
Perhaps Grant Desme can.
Because after a promising minor league career in the Oakland A’s organization, Desme got a call from God (I hope it wasn’t a collect call ‘cuz gee whiz the sky is way high up and way far away!) and now he’s leaving baseball all together… to become a priest.
Yeah. Okay. Have fun with that, dude.
If you can, Mr. Desme, please hurry up and learn all there is to learn about the church so you can answer the questions this guy can’t:
First of all, Tupac did know he was gonna die. He also knew he was gonna die young. He said it many times. And it’s on the internet.
Secondly, being a black man does not automatically make you an authority on Tupac. I am white; but I know more about Tupac than I do about myself. So eat it, pal.
And finally, if you have watched “all the videos on Tupac” you would know that Tupac prophesied his own, early, tragic death… that he and Jesus are in the same category (both saviors to many, both prolific speakers, both attained mythic status), only we have more proof that Tupac rose from the dead than we do Jesus.
Grant Desme, you have a lot of work ahead of you in setting the story straight. Good luck, and hopefully we will all meet up at that great “gangsta party” in the sky.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
P.S. I really appreciate the idea of you all helping me find a woman to take out on a date. That is very kind of you; maybe I should help Allen find a boyfriend on the internet. It’s been a while since he’s dated a real nice guy, you know, so maybe I should help him out. I mean, that’s what friends are for.
Congratulations on winning the World Series, fellas. You kept me interested by keeping things interesting; you played great baseball all season long; you are champions of the universe. You deserve — and receive — my recognition.
But I still don’t like you.
And that’s a good thing. It’s good for me, good for you. It’s good for baseball in general.
I am human and humans hold grudges… even if they are stupid.
That’s right. 1996. Three terrible things happened to me in 1996: Tupac Shakur was murdered. The Yankees won the World Series for the first time since 1978. And MC Hammer went bankrupt.
I can only hope that this present calamity is not followed by two equally devastating events.
Luckily, it has coincided with at least one current positive from the baseball cosmos: Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher, Vicente Padilla (species name vicenteticus padillicarpeus), shot himself in the leg earlier this week near his home in Nicaragua, lending even more credence to the “Padilla Once Shot Himself In the Face” theory of explaining why he is so goddamn ugly.
Life is about balance.
I like it that way.
Hate me ‘cuz I hit neanderthals below the belt, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Image at the top courtesy of Three Frames)