Saying Goodbye to an Old Friend: Cutting up the old debit card

Sorry, BOA Visa debit card.

Don't blame yourself.

Blame me.

When we first started going together, we knew our relationship had an expiration date: Feb 2012 stamped right on your face.

So, we had great times but both knew it couldn't last.  Yet you stayed with me longer and saved me more $ than my ex wife.  Through the thick and thin crust pizza deliveries--some even with a 6 pack of that exalted malted beverage, beer from Broadway Pizza--we got along so well together that i even memorized your 16 digits whereas only ever figured out three of my wife's personalities, even memorized the secret spot on your back, the three digit security code.

You know I treasured you, refusing to share you with just any web site that came along, not even--especially--porn, just Amazon for books and music.

Remember Kaufrmann's  Critique of Religion and Philosophy we sent to the Publix cashier, a freshman at UCF where my niece just got accepted, both ladies with all the beauty and bravery human race needs to survive and thrive, the Hendrix Band Of Gypsys (Live) mp3 download?

Good times.

Yes, another card came into my life.

An email from 1 of the myriad of email newsletters suscribed to to give some semblance of connection to the rest of the human race rather than just annoying female cashiers had an offer for another BOA card featuring the Chicago Cubs logo.

Yes, a MasterCard but still of our bank.

HEY, ANY TEAM CAN HAVE A BAD TWO CENTURIES!!!

Whaddya YOU?

A frakkin' Yankees fan?

Go on, then.  Good riddance; gonna go on without you..  Have gone on and learned the new PIN #...

...but will still remember the good times.  If you find any great debauchery, call me.

[So if this marks the only tragedy in my life this month or year, 'tain't too damn bad.

Peace]

Wrigley Field, Graveyard of Hope

With all due respect to people of all religions and faiths, Cubs fans have become the Jews of the sporting world: always waiting for the Messiah to take us to the promised land but knowing the savior will not come in our lifetime.

So does remaining a Cubs fan come from masochism, insanity, or delusional dreams?

Maybe becoming a Cubs fan comes from my genes as my pops grew up in LA and became a fan because Cubs had a minor league team there back in his day.

Whatever, if I wanted to root for a winner, I'd become a Yankees fan. Nevetheless, I could no more do so than command the sun to rise in the West.

"I Yam what I yam," as the immortal philosopher Popeye says.

Yet hope springs eternal as faith lies "in believing in things yet unseen."

Ah, spring when even the Cubs have a chance at a title. But then summer comes and dreams die in dog days of summer.

Nevertheless, human beings have bought the team rather the old corporate and essentially faceless Tribune Company. Any human Cubs fan has got to feel embarassment--nay rage, disbelief, desire to find torches And pitch forks and march on Wrigley--after a loss like on 3 July when the Cubs lost after giving up nine runs on 3 hits in the seventh inning.

Nine runs on 3 hits in the seventh inning.

Oh please God, make the pain stop

But "There ain't no rest for the wicked until we close our eyes for good."