This is the dullest sports period of the year. No football. No meaningful baseball.  The NBA season is idling, with only five teams still relevant. I can’t get into non-tournament college basketball. For writing topics, I’m reduced to the NFL draft, Bracketology, or utter nontroversies. A-Rod complimented fellow excellent player Jose Reyes?  No way!

I believe in rational argument and I enjoy baseball statistics. I grasp adjusted OPS, WARP and why pitchers’ wins are meaningless. That said, I also would like to have an opinion about baseball without being shouted down with the latest technical output from the crystal ball in vogue.  Baseball discourse would be horrifying if it regressed to unintelligible statements about a player’s “motor,” “freakish athleticism” and how someone’s “a baseball player,” but, perhaps, we can find a middle ground.

I hate natural body zealots who extol the virtues of not showering every day and never washing your hair.  “Oh, It’s more natural.  They do it in Europe,” you say.  Hygiene is culturally relative.  Indigenous peoples in Asia and elsewhere didn’t revel in European musk.  They thought Europeans were lice-ridden cesspools of stink.  Stew in your natural oils if you wish, hippie, but don’t justify it as a commentary on American naivety.

I also despise PETA.  Thanks to their human hatred, my research scientist mother must fill out more paperwork for experiments on specially bred lab rats than she does for human testing.  Any PETA protest should be counter-protested by patients with M.S. and terminal cancer.  Any PETA member dousing another human being with fake blood should be showered with the all too real contents of a cancer victim’s colostomy bag.

Finally, no disrespect to the gentlemen on the show whom I admire greatly, but the PTI desk looks like a large dong.  I’m not sure why that’s important.  I’m just letting you know.