Don’t it beat all? Ain’t things out of control? Damndest thing ever I seen.
That’s what my old man used to say. Damndest thing ever I seen. At the very least, three or four times a day. I guess he was easy to impress.
One of the beauties of baseball is that, no matter how many games I watch, at an astonishing degree of regularity, I see something I’ve never seen before. Earlier this year, in Birmingham, Alabama, I watched the leadoff batter of the homestanding Barons single, steal second, and get picked off that base. The next batter singled, stole second, and got picked off that base. Second base, not first, both times. Both pickoffs occurred over a span of five pitches. I’ve never seen it before. It would be hard to look up. How many times has it happened in history? Five times? A hundred times? A thousand times? Only once while I was watching, or, maybe, I saw it another time and wasn’t paying attention.
Nothing I’ve seen in a baseball game matches my astonishment at what Donald Trump says every day.
Build a wall. Make Mexico — which, by the way, loves me — pay for it. Ban immigrants, who, by the way, love me anyway. The Russians hacked the Democrats. I wish they’d hack my opponent. The Russians wouldn’t hack me. They love me.
Flashback to Animal House: “Hey, Otis, my man! He loves us.”
Lyin’ Ted. Little Marco. Pocahontas. Crooked Hillary.
How many times have I asked, “Oh, boy, now he’s really done it”?
Among the tiny percentage of words said by Trump that are actually true are those in which he said he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and his supporters would vote for him anyway.
I believe that. I have no choice.
Trump picked a fight with the Pope! He said John McCain wasn’t a hero because he got caught. He poked fun at a handicapped person.
He said that, to stop the terrorists, we have to kill their families — their women, their children — because the terrorists do that to us. Inexplicably, this has not prevented preachers of the Gospel from flocking to his side. It’s like they’re saying, Hey, the Devil is evil. No fair. To fight the Devil, Jesus has to be evil, too.
If it weren’t for bad words, he’d have no words at all.
It’s the damndest thing ever I seen. I don’t say that every day like my daddy did.
I’ve written four novels and a collection of short stories. I’ve also written a number of books about sports, mostly about NASCAR. You can find most of them here.
The Kindle versions of my books, where available, can be found above. Links below are to print editions.
I’ve written a crime novel about the corrosive effects of patronage and the rise and fall of a powerful politician and his dysfunctional family, Forgive Us Our Trespasses.
I’ve written about what happens to a football coach when he loses everything, Crazy of Natural Causes.
I’ve written a tale of the Sixties in the South, centered on school integration and a high school football team, The Intangibles.
I’ve written a rollicking yarn about the feds trying to track down and manipulate a national hero who just happens to be a pot-smoking songwriter, The Audacity of Dope.
I’ve written a collection of 11 short stories, all derived from songs I wrote, Longer Songs.
Most of my sports columns are at montedutton.com.
Follow me on Twitter @montedutton, @hmdutton (about writing), and/or @wastedpilgrim (more opinionated and irreverent). I’m on Facebook (Monte.Dutton), Instagram (TUG50), and Google-Plus (MonteDuttonWriter).
Coming soon: My fifth novel, a modern western, Cowboys Come Home.