The Philosophical Solution of Evil

I wouldn’t say that I’m entirely evil, per se, but I do enjoy the occasional dip into evil waters. It’s an amuse-bouche for a shitty day.

My wife queued up her social media today to see that many of the babies she helped deliver in her previous life as a doula were attending Little League Opening Ceremonies this weekend. Our son played exactly one season of Little League. Ultimately we decided it wasn’t for him since he spent most of his time fashioning crop circles in the outfield, designing dirt angels in the infield, or smacking himself in the balls ad nauseam to demonstrate the testicular empowerment of the tried-and-true jockstrap-and-cup technology.

This embodies the majority of my son’s tee ball experience.

Our Opening Ceremonies, as customary, overindulged in spectacle and pageantry. Because it was Orange County, the silent auction was ridiculous. You could bid on anything from a weekend Lamborghini rental to a legal retainer for a divorce attorney—anything to support our Boys of Summer while appealing to the Real Housewives of Backstabbing and Breast Augmentation.

While families competed for the silent auction loot, we paraded our players onto the field. And make no mistake, a five-year-old in a baseball uniform might appear adorable, but he’s just a violent psychopath in costume, even more so when you give him a rigid leather glove, an aluminum bat, and a hard plastic helmet. It’s like giving a loaded shotgun to a monkey and praying it has terrible aim.

Once we finally got our team onto the field, my nerves were pretty pickled. I understand why they don’t serve alcohol at Little League games, but there ought to be medical and/or spiritual exceptions. On my best days I lean dark, and when I’m anxious or annoyed, Alex from A Clockwork Orange would hear my thoughts and say, “Maybe you should really talk to someone.”

When you feel as evil as this guy, it’s time to settle into shavasana.