I didn’t think they were any good anymore. Like not terribly, but comfortably mediocre, like most teams.

I like baseball, but do people actually care anymore?

It requires a patience and attention that doesn’t really exist in our Instagram/Snapchat/TikTok world.

After all, why have a long-lasting memory when it can just disappear in twenty-four hours. I wonder if this generation’s instances of Alzheimer’s are going to spike because of the lack of long-term memory-making abilities.

Everything has to be a filter; nothing real, nothing dirty.

Unless they want to cancel you, then even the hint of an accusation can destroy a person’s entire world. That’s something I struggle with; where’s the line between believing victims and voiding one’s own ability to determine bullshit?

Because let’s face it, in this era, everyone can make themselves a victim in a heartbeat, by referencing feelings. I hear it all of the time, and while in many cases, there’s legitimacy, in a lot of cases, it’s herd mentality, jumping on a trend to abdicate one’s own responsibility in one’s own life.

Framing is everything, and I think it behooves us to be both harsh in the judgment of those who would exploit others and open-minded to the possibility that maybe not all accusations are legit (intentionally or otherwise – sometimes people just can’t see that their hurt or spite isn’t the whole picture).

Anyway, how we got to me treading the line on cancel culture from baseball, I don’t know.

Target: 900 words
Written: 192 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Wishsong Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Once And Future 8-10, Die 12
Music: Live! The Ramones! Woo!