5-4-3 -or- X Files Is Believable

The Gorillas, believe it or not, are a creative bunch. The problem is, they're also a lazy bunch. And occasionally they're a dumb bunch. So, from time to time, a Gorilla that is not me will write a blog post, but be too lazy to post it here. Or he will forget his password. Or both. The following is the result of one of those occasions, and a drunken evening for D, in which he explains that hope is a good thing - maybe the best of things. And so on.

I'm a cynic, a pessimist, a non believer. I pretty much have no hope or belief in anything. In short, I'm a miserable bastard. I have no faith in anything that's not tangible. If I can't see it, smell it, or touch it... well, I just don't believe it.

When i was a young boy, they told me about Santa Claus. I did not buy into it. If a fat old man is sneaking into a kids house..he must be a pedophile.

Big Foot? Had to be Georghe Meursean or Manute Bol on a camping trip.

Roswell? I hear Mexicans are stupid (no offense to Stic)... so New Mexicans must be even stupider.

Global Warming? Where I live it's still cold in the winter and hot in the
summer. So, I'm gassing up my SUV, keeping my lights on, and cranking the AC. Going Green? Fuck that.

So when I hear of legendary/conspiracy tales - the "grassy knoll", "DaVinci codes", "Jamie Lee Curtis is a hermaphrodite (does this mean she has a dick?), "triple plays in softball", "the curse of the billy goat (poor Cubs)" - I just ignore it. Because that's what I've done for most of my life. Hope/faith don't mean shit. I basically have to see it to believe it.

I remember in high school some of my friends were telling tales of getting some "pussy", how great it was, and how they hoped to get it again. Well, I was skeptical. I had never seen, smelt or touched this so called "pussy "and could not believe such a thing could give us so much hope. Then, one day I fell out of a boat and hit water (with the help of some Purple Passion and game called 3 man). I saw the "pussy" I touched the "pussy", I smelt the "pussy" (all pretty remarkable considering it took 3 minutes.) It was great.

I walked out of the room that day and I had hope (and not the "hope she doesn't press charges" kind of hope.) It was a good day.

Since that time, The Man has kept me down, Pussy has not been around, and The Cynic was re-found. Until Tuesday night. I was playing Left Center for the fabled Gashaus Gorillas in an unnamed inning; there were runners on 1st and 2nd with no one out. A rotund batter waddled to the plate and hit a one hopper to our rotund 3rd baseman (5) who tagged and threw to our rotund 2nd baseman (4) who tagged and threw to our rotund 1st baseman (3).

The Gorrillas got some pussy! I walked off the field and looked upon the grassy knoll behind the fence and saw Jamie Lee Curtis, sitting by a UFO and jacking off a billy goat. And I had hope... I could go on forever but I have bigger fish to fry.

Dear SANTA...