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Beth opens the Washington Post. She sees an ad on the front page: All Washingtonians Invited to Rally on the Chesapeake
Join the rally for the ragers on June 10th
Rotten Crab Meat
Boring Bike Rides
Never-ending Nature Walks
Suggestive Spas
NoFez Entertainment
Fat Blubber Swimming
Tedious Table Tennis
Wonderful Weed
Brad walks into his house on the Chesapeake hoping for a peaceful day devoid of lawsuits and unwanted and incendiary email spam.
“Who put this ad in the Washington Post?”
“What ad?”
“There’s an ad splashed across the front page of the Post about our Rally on the Chesapeake.”
“What does it say?”
“It leads with the rotten crab meat and tedious table tennis and a whole bunch of other unsavory and unnecessary proclamations.”
“Hmmm,” says Brad. “I was just driving over the Bay Bridge and saw signs draped all over it with that same disinformation.”
“Who did this?”
“Gotta be Sportface.”
“How can we get Sportface to not come to our party?” she asks. “This is getting out of hand. I can’t have everyone in the D.C. area, and everyone driving over the Baby Bridge, coming to this party. Get control of your friend Sportface.”
“Sportface isn’t controllable,” said Brad.
“You better get him to tone it down. Tell him we’re canceling the party if he keeps overhyping our Rally on the Chesapeake.”
“Train left the station,” says Brad. “I already bombarded the fellas with 17 emails about the event including the spa sessions. Sportface is blogging about it non-stop. Hotels are booked. Rotten crab meat has been ordered. Birdman’s already booked his flight.”
“This is so typical of your Wake Forest friends.”
“Look I know he’s disconcerting but we’ve got to have Sportface here,” said Brad. “He’ll write about the event afterward so all the fellas can waste time reading that instead of doing work. If he’s not allowed to come, he won’t be able to write about what actually happened. He’ll have to make things up. We need him to write the truth.”
Beth storms out of the room. Brad dials up Sportface.
“Dude, it had to be you who posted that ad and had those signs draped on the Bay Bridge?”
“Not me, Brad. I would never do anything unwanted, unappreciated, untoward, unnecessary, and unthinkable.”
Click. Sportface finishes drawing up his blogging schedule for promoting the Rally on the Chesapeake.
Weeks pass. It’s party day. June 10th. Delmarva is in a tizzy. D.C. is abuzz. Boats on the Chesapeake fly flags at half-mast.
Katie Ledecky drives across the Bay Bridge and sees the sign for the Rally.
“Hell yes I’m down for this Rally,” she says. “That guy Sportface, who has been haunting me for years, will be there. He’s the one who wrote a blog saying I’m the second-best athlete in Little Flower School history. What a fat over-the-hill loser. I’m going to race him across Brad’s pool and whip his ass. Then we’ll race from Brad’s dock to the Bay Bridge and back. I’ll cherish watching the old out-of-shape has-been wallow and flail in the choppy Chesapeake waters while I break the world record for the Brad’s-to-Bridge-and-Back Boondoggle.”
A caravan of others starts pouring over the Bridge with so many signs about the Rally it’s hard to see the water below.
Bill Walton and Charles Barkley bounce along in Big Dead’s 1960s Volkswagen Hippie Bus.
“Rally sign says Wonderful Weed,” says Walton. “We gotta go to the Rally on the Chesapeake and get stoned, Chuck. Never been high by the Chesapeake but I read Michener’s 10,000-page book about this bountiful body of water. Let’s drop in, Chuck, and change how we see the cosmos, drink in the beverage that is Sammy Sportface, embrace all that is life, and dive off Brad’s dock all nuded up.”
Barkley says: “Don’t wanna see Sportface. All he does is try to pretend people confuse him for me. The difference between Sportface and me is I’m cool and rich and he’s a blogging idiot. Plus his real name is Charles Hartley and he tries to pretend people confuse him for me, Charles Barkley. He piggybacks on my fame to build his personal brand. I’ll go to the Rally but only because I hear there’s gonna be some bodacious barbecue and to heave Sportface off the dock.”
The bridge traffic continues to roar toward the Rally. Look, there’s Forrest Gump with Appleby, both superhuman ping-pong players. Gump dominated in ping pong in the movie about him, and Appleby did the same in the book Catch-22. He never gave up a point, winning 21 to 0 against everyone he played.
“Sign says there will be tedious table tennis at the Rally,” says Forrest. “We gotta go there and play each other and whack away to spellbind the throngs of people there because we’re the two most famous ping pong players in the history of cinema and literature.”
The Baby Bridge is not the only place in Delmarva where Rally signs clutter the highways. The perplexing signs also hang from the I-95 overpasses in Philadelphia and Delaware.
Two Philly Phanatics, Snake and Scott Lawrence, ride together full throttle towards the Rally on the Chesapeake.
“Do you think it’s something about us being from Philly that makes us dislike Sportface more than all the other fellas?” asked Lawrence.
“I think Sportface is a jackass and I think a lot of other people not from Philly feel disdain for him also. But let’s face it, we’re both jerks from Philly and love to tell Sportface he blows. Growing up in the City of Brotherly Love, we learned how to dislike and diss people really well. Can’t wait to get to the Rally and skewer Sportface.”
But Snake then says: “I have to tell you something I’ve been holding in for years. When I write ‘TLDR’ in response to Sportface emails [meaning too long didn’t read] I do that so the fellas will think I’m cool for knowing a trendy acronym. But I have to confess. I do read all Sportface emails. I don’t mind that they’re long and boring. How could anyone not read all the way through a Sportface blog?”
“I have to confess to the same truth,” said Lawrence. “I tell Sportface I don’t like his blogs but I really don’t mean it. Secretly, I read his stuff because there’s nothing else out there more compelling than his blogs.”
Speaking of Sportface, he’s riding over the bridge now with Nicola The Joker Jock Itch Jokic.
The two are just miles from the Rally. For the past three days, the two have been riding all the way from Denver. Earlier in the week Jock Itch was celebrated, coronated, and deified in the city’s parade for winning his first NBA championship and cementing his status as the best basketball player on Earth. Sportface went to Denver on a blogging assignment to jock sniff jock itch, his new sports hero, and post more repetitive blogs about how he feels about the Serbian Superstar.
“Who’s gonna be at this rally?” asks the Joker.
“A bunch of my college friends from Wake Forest, Bill Walton, Charles Barkley, Katie Ledecky, and most people living in and around Washington, D.C.
“Will I know anyone?” ask Jokic.
“No, but they’ll know you. I’ve been hounding them with a bevy of blogs about how great a basketball player you have been for the past few years.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you work the room. Everybody there will be happy to see me.”
Jock Itch and Sportface arrive. The crowd goes wild. The Steve Miller Band starts into their tune called “The Joker.”
I’m a joker.
I’m a smoker.
I’m a midnight toker.
Walton sings along while toking on his bong. “I’m a midnight toker.”
He sees Joker:
“It’s the Joker, Chuck,” he says. “I told you this would be the ultimate revolutionary Rally. Oh my goodness, we’ve got the majesty of the Chesapeake Bay, the fantastical Forrest Gump, Ledecky, the stars, the sky, the sunrise, the kindred spirituality, the wonders of whacky weed, and now – now gracing our lives, punctuating our presence, here he is, the Joker, the best basketball player in the world. Let it be known forevermore that the galaxy was never the same once the Rally on the Chesapeake kicked into high gear, which is right now, this very moment, on this Earth, under the sky above, transcending life itself. We’re all spiritually peaking at the Rally on the Chesapeake.”
Author Profile
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
Sammy Sportface Has a Vision -- Check It Out
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[…] They weren’t invited to the party, but they read about it on the Sammy Sportface Baby Boomer Brotherhood Facebook Page. Being who they are – classless and ruthless – they concocted a plan to crash the Rally on the Chesapeake. […]