Milwaukee: Dispatches From the Heart of Darkness

The wife and I went up to Milwaukee for the game last evening. Everything was enjoyable but the Cubs offense, and Zambrano throwing a pitch down the middle on a 1-2 count. To be sure, there's not much game to talk about in a 2-0 loss. Luckily, we were in exotic Milwaukee, the Paris of southeastern Wisconsin.



- When you walk in from the lot across the street, you come by this sign. It was three times as eerie as anything in Something Wicked This Way Comes. Locals say pregnant women who dawdle underneath the sign too long give birth to hideous dork-babies who no one likes.

- Ran into a lot of douchebags in Mikwaukee while tailgating and walking into the game. Loud-ass, can't-hold-my-booze, cursing in front of kids sort of shitheads. And you know what? They were all Cubs fans. It was disconcerting - I was able to see us like some other fans apparently do. Not a great picture. I'd hoped the lack of a bandwagon would shake off these body lice of fandom.

- Speaking of, I didn't run into the sort of Milwaukee fan that inspired this 2009 classic. I'm guessing the sudden novelty of a formerly bad team winning that turns people into douchebags has mostly run its course. Welcome back to my neutral side, Milwaukee.



- I'm glad the entire NL doesn't set off fireworks every time they beat the Cubs. They'd be spending a ton of fucking money on explosives.

- Walking in, we notice two drunk girls in (Cubs, I think) tie-dye shirts acting like ... well, 21 year olds. We run back into them inside, and one has already lost the other. Not a good sign. The one remaining drunk turns to me and says something along the lines of "Hey, your sharhh .. shugnorgggfluggggonsharma." When I inquired whether it was a sentence, or even English, she replied that it was a compliment. So go me!

- Aside from some early troubles, Zambrano pitched a hell of a game last night. It didn't really hit me until late into the game that I might have been at Z's last start. If that's the truth, I'm really going to miss the guy and the way he made all the local beat writers' uteruses cramp with his every word and action.



- Actual conversation, in my head.

Guy 1: "Dude, I drive 34. Or I used to, until the third DUI. Fuckin' Menomonee cops."

Guy 2: "I made a very poorly thought out jersey decision. Now I must live with it."

Guy 1: "Once I got so mad I hit my wife. I wore my Podsednik jersey to court."

Guy 2: "I didn't want to spend the extra ten bucks for the real numbers and nameplate. That's for fags."

Guy 1: "I drive 34."

Guy 2: "I cut myself, just to feel anything."

Guy 1: (cries)