Mister Faded Glory | www.misterfadedglory.com

“We’re naming our kid Geovany.”

“What? You’re insane.”

“Think about it. You’re not pregnant. That’s far away. It rolls off the tongue. Gee-oh-VAHN-ee.”

“It’s terrible. Sounds like a mobster.”

“Can call him Geo for short.”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Maybe just a middle name, then. At least think about it.”

(Crickets chirp.)

“Well, then, how about Aramis?”

–

You might be wondering when our next Cubs check-up will occur. Indeed, it’s been a while.

Well, even if you’re not wondering, it’s been tabled indefinitely. The Cubs keep playing solid baseball. What, I’m gonna complain about a superfluous double switch in tonight’s 6th inning?

(Actually, why are all National League managers repeatedly tempted to pull off an unnecessary double-switch? Does it assert some sort of imaginary intelligence? Look at me, I’m double-switching! Next thing you know, I’ll bat the freaking pitcher eighth.)

A meaningful, arduous September approaches, and the Cubs appear to be improving, even as the schedule finishes with a gauntlet. Mister Faded Glory watches quietly, loudly, boisterously, excitedly, and everything in between. In this space, however, he* offers nary a peep.

Carry on.

* Is this a record for narrative-flipping within a post? I, We, He, Mister. . . Just wait, we/I/he’ll work in a ‘you‘ yet.