Baltimore on the Loose (Lewis)

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They cut my eyes out!

They cut my eyes out!

Baltimore-  Thanks to 6:00 A.M Morning Matt for buying me some time.  I’m just “crawling from the wreckage” now, as Dave Edmuds once described it.  The carnage of what was once Baltimore is now naught but charred ruins and empty Courvoisier bottles.

Ray Lewis stunned his loyal fan base on Friday by announcing he was done after this playoff run. The fine citizenry of Charm City a.k.a. Harm City a.k.a. Mob Town a.k.a. Bodymore, Murderland, immediately entered a panicked frenzy.  What would they do without their beloved linebacker/murder suspect?

For two days the town was on edge.  It all culminated with yesterday’s game, a home playoff tilt with none other than the Indianapolis, née Baltimore Colts.

Bring home Baltimore’s once-beloved team to play in Ray Lewis’ final home game?  It was too much for people to take.  It’s like telling a man his children are going to die regardless, but at least they’ll go to heaven if he murders his wife.

The town snapped.

At the 1:00 kickoff, the street were empty save for some tumble weeds and a smattering of wandering meth addicts.  The entire metro area, city and suburbs alike, were glued to their television sets, save for the 70,000 who were in the stadium, screaming like banshees.

Lewis came out of the runway, sporting a new, ultra black face mask and did his insane, hellish chicken dance for the last time.

He then went on to have a double digit tackle game.

He had half a sack.

He dropped a sure interception.

"I demand virgin sacrifices!"

“I demand virgin sacrifices!”

He stood triumphant at midfield at the end of the game, a Ravens victory in hand, holding Andrew Luck’s severed head aloft, and exploded into one last spasmodic ritualized dance.

The fans’ blood lust reached a fever pitch.  How could they honor this noble warrior who won them a Super Bowl, a Super Bowl MVP, 2 NFL Defensive Player of the Year awards, the mantle of greatest middle linebacker to ever grace the gridiron, and a ticket for the then-biggest fine ever: a quarter of a million dollars in 2000 for being convicted of obstruction of justice while helping his blood-soaked, knife-wielding friends dodge a murder rap?

There was only way action that could do this justice: Burn down Baltimore!

Of course about a quarter of the city burned down and was boarded up years ago, but that still left a lot of row houses aching for the torch.

We set this f-in city on fire.  We sacrificed virgins.  We had sex with goats.  We honored Ray Lewis.

And now we’re hoping FEMA will help pay to clean up the mess.


Donna Summer would love this last, Last Dance.

Dancing fool Grote2DMax, tomorrow.

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Mattville's George Plimpton, The Public Professor, is indeed a real, honest-to-goodness, legitimate professor at a major Maryland university. But because he doesn't have a cell phone or cable, he's crazy enough to be with us. A member of Angry Ward's Urban Spur Posse, the terrorized Bronx graffiti artist's by correcting their grammar. His loves? The Yankees, Knicks, NY Rangers and the Pittsburgh Steelers. He also has a real website: ThePublicProfessor.com (http://www.thepublicprofessor.com/).

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