Those Who Can't Do...Vote

If there was ever was an argument in favor of communism, the People’s Choice Awards and the Baseball Writers’ Association of America (BBWAA) would be it. If nothing else it proves that when a group of people are given the opportunity to express their cumulative opinion, they will almost inevitably fuck things up worse than Donald Trump trying to trade jibes with middle-America’s queen bee. Within a twelve-hour window, we were privy to a non-stop parade of voting incompetence.

Now I could write a long diatribe examining the factors that could go into nominating the film Click for best movie in the comedy category, however, when I find out the movie Click WINS best movie in the comedy category, I start to go all dizzy like Agent Mills did when he found out his wife’s head was in a box. Believe me, I do not live and die by the voting results of the Peoples Choice Awards or any other awards show for that matter. I just simply feel exhausted. I scratch my head…my eyes go glazy… my body wants to fold up and roll under a bed like a Total Gym.

In regards to the BBWAA, it’s bad enough that the highest honor in baseball is decided by a group of people with less at-bats then Dr. Archibald “Moonlight” Graham had in Field of Dreams, but they also feel the need to grace us with their moral stance on the issue of hitting a baseball through their print and media jobs. The only thing that separates these individuals from the avid sports fan is a field pass and the knowledge of the player’s underwear preference. I grew up with a sports writer for a prominent NY newspaper and the thing I remember most about him was how he reneged on the only two sports bets we ever made (Bet 1: Dave Kingman had over 400 homeruns; Bet 2: Chris Corchiani was the NCAA career assists leader at the time). Why do I remember this? Because he was no expert on anything, he just walked around like he was. But everyday, thousands of people will read his opinion and process his words as fact.

I could explain to you how Little Miss Sunshine on mute was funnier than Click, and how Mark McGwire revitalized baseball twice in his career (his rookie year and following the strike), but I’m just too tired. I realize I am outnumbered, and stuck in a perpetual world of wannabe Laguna Beach stars…

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to buy my opening weekend tickets to Stomp the Yard...