by Paul Chaplin
This is one of those moments that you'll always remember where you were when it happened, said a guy named Buck last Tuesday night, I forget his first name but he's the son of Jack Buck, long-time and (it goes without saying) beloved announcer for the St. Louis Cardinals; the son works for Fox.
It's three days later, and so far Mr. Son-of-a-Buck (ha ha) has proven correct, at least in my case. I remember where I was. I was in the basement watching TV.
That pretty much sums up all I can think of to say on the whole McGwire thing.
What I'd like to address, since we've progressed to the new business portion of the agenda, is the trend we have in this country where sons get to just step right in and do what their fathers did. Here's a partial list:
Unless I miss my guess, isn't the son of Art Wall also a pro golfer?
Here in Minnesota:
I think I've made my point. Oh wait, I haven't. What is my point? Oh heck, as long as I've got the floor I'll go out on a limb and say the proliferation of sons means we're falling apart as a civilization.
This becomes most clear when you consider that George Bush Jr. is going to be president. That's the best we can do? We have somehow developed, and keep in mind it's only ten years later, such fondness for the memory of George Bush that we pantingly rush to his son, a pale imitation of a pale original?
It's the information economy, I tell you. We have an economy based on nothing, so there is no realistic measure of worth anymore. If you got a name, you're on your way.