Mark L. Feinsod

It’s amazing how unexpected things can trigger childhood memories. Earlier today, I read in the New York Times  that Bobby Thomson, who hit the world famous Shot Heard ‘Round the World in 1951 while playing for the Brooklyn Dodgers, passed away last week.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why are you writing about sports? You don’t like sports. You don’t play sports. The sight of a sporting event on television fills you with a feeling of uncontrollable dread and terror mixed with boredom.

Well, no. You’re getting that mixed up with my reaction to Justin Timberlake’s music.

You may not know this, and you will be fascinated to learn it, but as a boy I was really interested in baseball. This has long since faded and the most interesting part of going to a baseball game now for me is seeing what kinds of new junk food have been dreamed up for people to gorge on while at the stadium. Last time I went to a Mets game, I had this weird ice cream thing that looked like dirt. And it came in a very small container. And it had some bad punny name like Bitz or Dotz or You Just Wasted a Lot of Money on This Garbage. I also had a pulled-pork sandwich at the Blue Smoke stand, which I suppose is healthier than a hot dog, but if you’re going to serve gourmet food at a baseball game, why not have something more interesting, like a spinach omelet or toast?

Also, there is nowhere to buy gum at baseball games. This is annoying.

But it’s amazing to me that, like almost everything else in America, baseball has become so corporate. This is not really news, but I’ve always had a hard time accepting it. I’ve always thought that was football’s realm. Baseball was to football like the old musty boutique in your hometown where your grandmother went to buy slacks was to K-Mart.

Whereas people once rooted for the Brooklyn Dodgers or the New York Giants or the New York Yankees and heralded amazing feats of athletic achievement and mused over baseball’s ability to transcend racial and economic boundaries, now they just go to eat overpriced ice cream out of a little tub and have a pork sandwich.

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In this week’s installment of the podcast, we discuss massages. You can listen here and at SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes.

As always, we appreciate your support. Please tell friends, family and coworkers about the show and urge them to listen.

Sorry for the late update, but my good friend Miss Model Behavior had the day off today and so she only put up this week's podcast a little while ago.

Most importantly, this week introduces the Win a Date with Goldy contest.  You should enter.  Get your single female friends to send in entries.

More details are available in the podcast.

And the winner will be invited to be a guest on our show.

This is why we got into this in the first place.  To make a difference in the world.  To help people.  Join us.

You can listen here and on SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes.

As always, thank you for spreading the word.  And please write a review and rate us in iTunes.  And feel free to email us your thoughts at podcast@feinsodville.com.

Thank you.  Enjoy the sweltering heat.

Just a little while ago, I had my first profound thought in probably a decade or so.  It was really important and probably would’ve changed the course of history as we know it, but the person I was with offered me the last slice of bacon from her plate and I got sidetracked.  Though I did remember it a few minutes ago.

But let me back up.  Unless you were locked in a basement as the prisoner of a sadistic, wealthy Swedish industrialist, you know that the big piece of news this past weekend was that Tony Heward, the CEO of BP who looks like the bass player in a British prog rock band circa 1983, took his multi-million dollar yacht to a race on the Isle of Wight.  It was easy to picture Tony Heyward sipping Campari as he sat on deck, the wind whipping his overly-moussed, blow dried hair as two nubile young women pretended they weren't grossed out by his nose hair and tried to suppress the urge to vomit at the thought of having to sleep with him later on.

People were outraged.  And understandably so.  But as I've written before, what always amazes me is when people are surprised.  And this goes back to my profound thought that was interrupted by breakfast meat.  People's politics here in the U.S. can basically be divided into two camps: those who favor the free market, and those who think it needs to be watched.  We recoil at the thought of fascism or socialism.  We're America!  Work hard, get rewarded, have nubile young girlfriends!

I'm convinced, however, that every single economic system just eventually devolves into feudalism.  Doesn't matter what it is.  Capitalism, socialism, hunter/gatherer societies.  Every society becomes very rich people and very poor people.  And that's kind of where we're at now.  Rich people destroy the economy, and nothing happens.  They make money off of healthcare, and nothing happens.  They drill holes and turn the ocean into the aquatic equivalent of the borough of Queens, and nothing happens.

But I have the solution.  Rather than just be bitter and start watching Bill O'Reilly so that I can witness somebody giving voice to my impotent rage, I've worked out the answer.

We need Bono.

Put him in charge of cleaning up the oil spill.  He can fix anything.  In fact, we should temporarily change the law that says people need to be born on American soil in order to become President just so Bono can serve two terms.  Our coastlines will become pristine.  Our economy will become an engine of efficiency.  We’ll find Osama bin Laden and put him in a cage somewhere.  Everything will be great.

Bono’s already saved Africa and made the Joshua Tree.  He’s like the Chuck Norris of international events.

Maybe he can even do something about that goal the U.S. soccer team got robbed of this past Friday.

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This week on the podcast, we answer a piece of listener mail that asks whether or not we’re any good at picking up women.  The short answer would've been no, but we do manage to drag it out for about twenty minutes.  Have a listen for yourself here and at SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes.

As always, please spread the word and tell your friends and co-workers.  And write a review and rate us in iTunes.

Bono would want you to.