Cuddly Yankees Tame Inflation, Sox

Those plucky Yankees have done it again! Cursed with a payroll that once dwarfed the national debt, these vagabonds, survivors of both the 1997 All-Star game and 2005 waiver wire, have overcome their rivals and now stand atop the American League East. Their improbable run, which has dampened the championship hopes of the mighty Orioles and Devil Rays, also threatens the reign of everyone's second-favorite lost cause (after Bill Clinton, natch), the Boston Red Sox. And while their lead of one game is not insurmountable, the Yankees, in their familiar underdog role, have captured the hearts of baseball fans throughout New York City, and even parts of New Jersey, prompting an unprecedented outpouring of support for the team, some say as far south as turnpike exit 7. Even George Steinbrenner, the always sensible owner of the team, is totally excited, unequivocally guaranteeing the safety of manager Joe Torre's job through October 2nd.

Alas, Red Sox Nation, unmoved by the Yankees' triumphant tale of perseverance and sacrifice, has vowed to derail New York's title hopes and deprive the country of the feel-good story it so badly needs. And thus, the stage is set: three games, the final weekend of the season. A morality play in which the forces of wholesome American goodness, the Pinstripers themselves, will face off against the rag-tag cavemen and ex-cons representing Boston. Although the result is by no means certain - there's no controlling the influence of self-serving Republican tricksters - Providence clearly favors the clean-cut Yankees over the dastardly Sox.

My prediction: Yanks take series, 2-1, win AL East.

And Then, I Saw Coke

Hi. I'm 31 years old. I have a steady job and own my apartment. Oh, and by the way, Labor Day was huge for me this year - I finally got to see cocaine! Sure, that's two weeks ago now, but it's taken me awhile to internalize the experience.

I was in NYC to watch the US Open and, it turns out, the friends I was staying with are major fans of the stuff. It must have been 4 o'clock or so when we returned to the apartment after a night of, let's face it, binge drinking, when my buddy "Brett" pulls out this tiny baggie full of you know what. I was not nearly as wasted as everyone else, so I'm trying to play it cool, not exactly looking away from the Evil but not transfixed either. Anyway, I pretended to watch TV as Brett carefully made some lines with his subway fare card; I remember thinking what a shame it was that pretty soon he'd be snorting the stuff, and after all that hard work too.

Anyway, a couple people go up to the kitchen counter and take a big whiff, then retire to their seats. I figure they're gearing up for yet another round of heavy drinking, and perhaps will be hitting the streets again very soon. Cocaine!!! I tiptoed up to the counter, hoping to avoid notice and an invitation to snort (I'm incredibly weak under peer pressure, as my poor record of refusing pot attests), and prepared for the awesome sight of long, thick lines of coke. Well, let me just tell you, those lines were the puniest little things I've ever seen. I can not be redundant enough in describing how miniscule they were. I seriously doubt a rodent would get high off lines that size. Anyway, the best part was, everyone went straight to sleep immediately afterwards. Isn't cocaine supposed to pick you up for further misadventures? I totally didn't get it, but at least I refused the coke when I was asked to try...