CAUTION: DRUNKEN EXPLETIVE-FILLED RANT FOLLOWS.
It’s Monday, by the way, just in case you weren’t sure.
I’d like to start off with a PSA that I feel some of you need to hear; some of us were alcoholics long before this quarantine began and I am not here for your bullshit, ‘If you can read this, bring me wine’ socks and your ‘Wine with Dewine’, like drinking is some sort of fucking Instagram post to you. Some of us have fine-tuned our drinking over YEARS of Cincinnati sports and personal failures and we don’t need some 5pm Facebook Live COVID update to tell us that it’s time for a cold one.
But seriously, them socks do look comfy and I hope you’re being safe.
Life without sports sucks, even when your teams suck. I have been forced to get to know my friends and family to levels of intimacy that I am entirely uncomfortable with. I need the flimsy, thin emotional attachment to shit-ass sports teams that God intended us to have. What the fuck am I supposed to do with my personal relationships after this is over? There are YEARS of emotional re-distancing ahead of me to undo the damage this quarantine has done.
PLEASE GOD BRING SPORTS BACK!
Speaking of the return of sports; Major League Baseball. Of course after an off-season where the Reds went out and finally spent money to sign quality players, this shit happens. On top of that, now we have this bullshit between the owners and the player’s union and after Tuesday’s news of the absolute middle-finger-of-a-proposal by the owners, we may not get baseball at all! You listen to me and you listen to me closely, baseball; I refuse to grow closer to anyone in my life, so get your shit together so I can get back to ignoring the emotionally starved people that care about me!
Take me out to the ballgame, or just take me out. Anywhere. Please.
We’ve been so desperate for sports that we sat and watched a 10-part documentary on the second-best basketball player of all time. The best thing Jordan ever did was Space Jam and Lebron’s even going to do that better.
Yes, you. The guy sitting there spitting his soggy-ass Subway sandwich all over his keyboard screaming “SIX RINGS!”. You know what you sound like? A fucking Steelers fan. Be better than that.
Last Dance? No thanks. Bring me Last Call!
Ugh. This one’s empty. I’ll be back.
Look for more Drunken Bengals Post-game Rants All Season.
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