8/19/97 - Mind in the Gutter

There is a crime being perpetrated in this country. A crime which infiltrates nearly every section of society, from the upper-class jetsetters to the poor working-class family just trying to make ends meet and put food on the table.

The criminal is a silent one. It sits idly by, watching and waiting, relentlessly patient in its craft, for it knows that if it is wily and slippery enough, the victims will come. And they will bow down before its evil presence, and submit to it. They are hopeless and helpless, and the rest of us are likewise diminished every time a soul is claimed by it.

Yes, the crime I am speaking of is the manufacture and distribution of bowling accessories.

I used to bowl as a young teen, and it was then that I first became confident in my assessment that bowling is the dumbest sport ever invented. And so I had refrained from participating in it for much of the time since then. Then the World Wide Web was invented, and after creating this page, I decided that I had found a pasttime that amazingly seemed even dumber than bowling.

So I ventured out to the lanes once again to renew my interest, and I found that not much had changed in the world of bowling since I had last visited it. The main difference that I can tell so far is that the "RESET" buttons on the ball-return no longer do anything. Now you must press two buttons on the automatic scorer to get a re-rack.

Other than that, though, things were just as I'd left them. The faint odor of french fries still permeates the room, and the children are still screaming that they want to play the video games instead of bowl. Who can blame them?

Anyway, I go ahead and procure my lane, and as I've done since I first walked into a bowling alley, I rent some old cruddy shoes, search the place for that special ball that I can hold without experiencing too much pain, go down to my lane, and start chuckin' the ball.

One of my Bowling Brothers is honing his skills on the next lane over. And he's got the special bowling glove, and he's got his own shiny bowling shoes, and he's got the armpads, and the wristbands, and the special PBA-approved tee-shirt, and three (3) separate bowling balls, all with fingerholes that lovingly conform to the shape of his, for lack of a more tasteful word, extremeties. And he's rolling the ball with that "ultra-hook" that you see all the pro bowlers using. You know, the one where you throw the ball out so it is technically in the gutter for several seconds before being pushed by an unseen wind back into the middle of the lane...

And he sucks.

Meanwhile, I'm up there with this old chipped up bowling ball that is putting blisters on parts of my hand I didn't even know I had, and that has the word "DVANE" inscribed on it, and I'm wearing shoes which are at least one size too small, causing me great discomfort, and I'm wearing tattered old clothes and a shirt that I can't keep tucked in, and I don't even have one of those little bags which bowlers squeeze and toss up and down for some reason, and I'm just walking right up there and throwing the ball down the lane with a hook which is accidental at best and embarrassing at worst...

...and I'm kicking his butt, every game. I rolled at least 15 games this weekend, and wound up with about a 175 average, with a nice 214 rounding out my lovely Sunday session.

So we can reach one of two conclusions. One is that I'm just a natural athelete (oh, if you could only check out my physique), born to bowl, with an innate talent for knocking things over...

...or maybe that the manufacture and distribution of bowling accessories is the biggest scam in the history of this planet! Personally, I'm thinking MAJOR class-action lawsuit here. If you'd like to help, please send your contributions to:

The Bowlers Usurping Terrible Tyranny (BUTT) Foundation,
In care of, the Forced Acronym Guys...
Oh, forget it. But while I'm on the subject, I'd like to address the old people of this great land. No, I'm not going to start talking about how old people suck, because I don't believe that. But I am very concerned about their health, so I offer this as a public service announcement to all senior citizens:

"You all need to EAT more, dammit!"

The spindly little arms and legs I saw this weekend were an outrage! It's no wonder you can't get more power on the ball, what with them little licorice sticks you call appendages. I want you, the elder bowler, to belly on up to that snack bar and demand cheeseburgers and french fries by the pound! Put some meat on them old bones before it's too late!

Thank you.

(This message was paid for by the "Old People Is Eatin'" (OPIE) corpora- [Oh, knock it off.]

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That was in case any of you devious types were thinking of stealing all my cool stuff. So there.
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