“All men are lunatics. But those among us with the enterprise to analyze our delusions are hailed as philosophers.” – Ambrose Bierce

*****

I played a lot of baseball when I was younger. I played little league, high school, American Legion and college ball. I even played a little semi-pro. In all those games I saw my share of fights breakout on the field. They happened for a variety of reasons. Pitchers hitting batters in the noggin (we called them “beanballs” back then) was the leading cause but there were others.

A poor choice of words during the traditional “taunting” that is always exchanged between teams enjoyed popularity as well. It was perfectly acceptable to get as personal as you wanted with insults but brining up someone’s mother or kid sister could clear the dugouts in a hurry. While playing a game against a team of Mexican All-Stars in Ensanada, Mexico, I was once involved in an altercation over the ground rules concerning the bull chained to a stake in the pasture that made up a significant portion of center field. (Balls rolling to a stop within the perimeter of the bull’s prerogative were considered ground rule doubles.)

I never thought I’d live long enough to see a major league pitcher come off the mound and puff up his chest because someone had suggested his earrings were too dressy for the occasion. But that is what happened in a game last week when a pitcher’s lobe adornments were shining in the eyes of the batter and the umpire compelled him to remove them. I’m not sure but I think a jewelry induced baseball brawl is one of the Signs of the Apocalypse.

*****

I read with great amusement last week about Hollywood bad boy Sean Penn bashing the movie establishment and calling it “phony”. This from a man who once married a bleached blonde woman who cavorted on stage in a brass brassiere and answered only to the name of the blessed virgin. Nothing phony there.

Equating singer/exhibitionist Madonna with a virgin is like suggesting that Calista Flockhart and I suffer from the same eating disorder. I suppose it is fashionable to spit in the face of the very people who have made you wealthy and popular but the appeal escapes me. Perhaps if Mr. Penn were reduced to earning an honest living in a rock quarry he would find his employers more considerate of his delicate sensibilities. I would be pleased to write him a letter of reference should it come up.

He spoke critically of Hollywood’s narrow view in preferring to make movies that make money. A corporation wants to turn a profit? Alert the media!

If Mr. Penn is so enamored of “art” I suggest he buy canvas and paints and retire to the French countryside from whence he can dispense disdain and bad paintings in equal measure while enjoying his richly deserved anonymity.