A perfectly noble reason, and I like to think that he also had the presence of mind to know that one ought not tap God on the shoulder while He is painting.Īnd then, he was gone. He probably did so because he didn't want anyone to get hurt. Credit where it's due: the security officer here seemed as though he was able to rip this gentleman down from the platform, but he didn't. And in the process, he lent real meaning, real purpose, to what you built.ĥ. You think you can win my heart with a ****ing hill? You can't, but this gentleman did by using it to scale the wall. It was built as part of a cynical attempt to manufacture character and old-timey nostalgia in a state-of-the-art stadium occupied by a team named after men who walk in space and originally sponsored by a hyper-enormous energy conglomerate before later being sponsored by an international purveyor of high-fructose corn syrup. ![]() Let it be known that Tal's Hill was finally granted meaning last night. Did the gentleman in question spot an opportunity when he saw the park's incline in deep center field, Tal's Hill, in the distance? Or were these actions the misbehaved children of a frenzied, inconsistent logical process? We don't know (and if you're asking me, we don't need to).Ĥ. This, friends, is the trajectory of a wasp toward its aggressor, the single-mindedness of an antelope evading a hyena, and ultimately, the gravitational inevitability of a trout dropping into a waterfall.Ģ. An alternate angle shows us that this gentleman shot straight of the seats in right-field foul territory. Video documentation of this event comes from Mark Lancaster, via Joey Gelfand and J.E. He ran on the field and escaped, damaging a system that will never again be made right. On Friday night, in the Houston Astros' Minute Maid Park, one of us took this relationship and knocked it on its side. You will certainly spend the night in prison and pay a large fine, and the reward is the satiation of the impulse triggered deep within your soul, a soul slapped together by millions of years of an evolutionary process that never quite cared about what was best for you. Such is the case when one of us storms a baseball diamond in the middle of play. The purest and least repressed expression of this impulse is surely made when the vessels are our very persons. ![]() We buried time capsules in the hope that a construction worker hundreds of years from now would strike his shovel across it, open it, and be interested in the results of your spelling bee.Īnd then we grow up, and we purchase lottery tickets, and we etch drawings of naked people on plates of gold and blast them into an indifferent frozen void. We tied messages that no one would read to helium balloons, never to be seen again. It is what compelled us as children to stand tiptoed on the beach, squint our eyes in vain to spot a Europe we could not see, and try to throw a pebble to the other side anyway. There is a part of your heart and mine that rejoices in the beautiful futility of a vessel launched to a terrifyingly matter-of-fact death.
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