Ode to Bluffton College Baseball Players

... only, next time you damn Mennonites decide to spend spring break playin' in a tournament in Florida -- far from your Ohio home -- could you, for once, respect the wishes of others and request that your bus driver kill himself and some of the passengers in a horrific crash at a time which is more convenient for America so that it doesn't conflict with the topless dancer's funeral and memorial service?

What a tragedy ... the way that those damn Mennonites with their beliefs of Mennonitism had the nerve to bump Vickie Lynn's (a.k.a. Anna Nicole w/ the fake titties) from the top of the 6 o'clock news. Those frickin' Mennonites and their Mennonite ball-playin' ways had no right to steal the thunder of the topless dancer and her fake boobies.

This is a matter of weighing America's right to forget about anonymous college student-athletes against the obsession with Vickie Lynn's truly inspirational life story.
If only Elton John was here to lessen our grief by comforting us with some kind words about Vickie's titties living their life like a candle in the wind.
Again, this illustrates the problem with dead Mennonite baseball players.
There are no Mennonite songwriters to write their candle-in-the-wind eulogy.

Recovery?
Nobody's more resillient than Americans -- and U-S-A! U-S-A! will bounce back once it scrapes those nameless dead Mennonites off the asphalt and once it extracts those faceless dead kids from that tornado-twisted rubble of that Enterprise, Ala. high school and returns to the important matters of hoping that we can exhibit one-eighth the courage that Larry Birkhead musters every day in his bid to gain custody of what is rightfully his from banging the pill-poppin' topless dancer ... America's million-dollar sweetheart, Dannielynn.

Godspeed, Lare!
You, too, Vurrr-jeee!
And, you, too, Zsa Zsa's hubby, whatever your name is this week.

When it comes to weighing the importance of young college kids dying tragically and for no reason on an Atlanta freeway against funerals for drug-munching, no-talent topless dancers, it kinda makes ya wish you could channel the spirit of Timothy McVeigh to park his Ryder truck outside the church in the Bahamas.

No, Officer ... we can't explain why Atta would want to crash his hijacked jumbo jet into the World Trade Center. And, we don't know why Atta Jr. will visit America one day in the future.
Maybe the Attas doesn't like the Mennonites.
Or maybe they don't like the content of "Access Hollywood."

They seem troubled that the talk of the town is "Anna" and not "Atta."
But, they'll be back.
And some of us will hold the door open for them ...