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Thursday, May 5

The Funeral for the 2005 Chicago Cubs

Good afternoon. I am the Most Reverend Uncouth Sloth, and I have been entrusted with the heavy task of delivering the eulogy for the 2005 Chicago Cubs.

Many of you were here last July when we buried the 2004 Chicago Cubs, and some of you insisted that there still was a pulse, but ultimately, the good doctor was right in calling the time of death. The death of this year's team is especially painful, especially in a season so young, so full of potential in this early spring here in Chicago.

But there is no hope, my friends. There is no hope.

The Cardinals will run away again this year, yea, I fear. This leaves many of us faithful wondering whether there is a God, when has-beens and never-shall-be's such as Mark Grudzalanek and Julian Tavarez can stink like shit while wearing the blue, but perform miracles while wearing the red. Please know, my good people, that God has far more pressing issues on His plate than the denoument of the National League Central. We live in a country where the government considers dishonesty as a strategic weapon, and this place is one of the BETTER ones! At least our people don't strap explosives on themselves and detonate themselves in our employment offices, at least not very often.

I watched the final throes last night with my wife, whereas I told her EVERYTHING that would happen before it did, and lo, she was impressed, as I was depressed. I wondered out loud why Dusty Baker would send the kid Novoa out in the ninth. I knew with one out, Bill Hall would smite us. I called and agreed with the walk to Jenkins, and when Lee flied deep, I swore for I knew Hall would be tagging. The key was when they decided to pitch around Overbay. (When did Overbay get elected to the Hall of Fame?) I knew with bases loaded, Novoa would not feel comfortable, after he threw two upstairs, I knew it was all over. After Miller swung at ball four once, I knew that he would then realize that the pressure was not his, but Novoa's. I knew that he would not even attempt to take the bat off of his shoulder.

Novoa is the black Kyle Farns #44.

Garciaparra is a fragile, brittle sort, and Boston management noticed the fork stuck in his back two years ago. That is why they wear rings, and we do not.

Ramirez plays well when he's hungry, and logic said to pay him this year. Lo, but logic also says that he would approach his business the same way in 2005 as he did in 2004. As a fat-n-sassy 23 year old, the good people of Pittzburgh grew tired of him. Now, as a fat-n-sassy 28 year old, we too shall grow weary of his laziness.

Derrek Lee and Neifi Perez are due to wake up any day now. You cannot count on them.

Corey Patterson will never be the next Lou Brock, no matter how hard management wants him to be. He will never be the next Barry Bonds, no matter how hard Corey wants to be. Somebody the other day called him the latter-day Sixto Lezcano, which I don't think is at all fair. He's at least the latter-day Bobby Bonds.

Lo, I myself said way back in February that the Crimson Shin, Todd Holly himself, is not a starter, and if he was to receive 400 at bats, it would be detrimental to him, the club, and to us. Once again, O Lord, you have granted me wisdom I am unworthy to bear.

Prior and Zambrano are still kids, Wood is still a self-destructive stubborn fool, Maddux is too little, too late, Hawkins is not a closer, Borowski is too dumb to come in out of the rain, and the vaunted Cubs farm system ultimately proved to be just wind in sails. Jim Hendry has proven that he can make chicken salad out of chickenshit salaries, but he has not proven he can make the big move to tip us over the top.

But most of all, it points back to the overrated, tax evading moron hiding behind his six year old son.

Cause of death...Dusty.