A warped tribute to Ron Santo, Leslie Nielsen, and Tyler Durden

Frustration is a common theme when it comes to my satire, but especially when it comes to my personal blogs. Of course I am on who believes that frustration is necessary for good writing.

At least in terms of nonfiction, but that is not entirely true. Some of the best works are done in response to the poor ones. "Airplane" was to "Airport," as "Scream" was to slasher flicks.

And then we get "fill in the blank Movie." Not to speak ill of the dead (especially since he rarely appeared in the latest stain on the big white screen), but hopefully Leslie Nielsen's death will slow those productions down as a memorial/moratorium to him. One would hate to need to put a hit out on Kevin Sorbo or Diedrich Bader.

As a narcissist, it is a bit frustrating to be stuck on movies. Then again, some of those who are reading this blog maybe frustrated that my self-centered nature is where I am taking it to. For those who have not pushed the back button or the X in the top right corner, let me finally begin with frustration is what sums up 2010.

I don't think it is wise to follow the suggestions of Tyler Durden, and the "Big Lebowski" showed that nihilism only leads to missing nonessential body parts. Which makes me wonder why ears are prized by psychotic war vets and Mike Tyson?

I would at least take the fingers. A necklace of those tells people not to screw with me. Mess with me, and you will never throw that poor slider again. If I was Lou Piniella, that is how I would have handled the Carlos Zambrano issue. Some would say that maybe a mistake, but it tells me Lou was getting soft. Big Z turned the season around, but will that carry over to this year? Take away Z's middle finger, he would have one less way of offending us with his frustrations, but more importantly, we could take his contract off the books. I am sure that crossing the boss would be a breach of the reckless behavior clause.

The Chicago Cubs, the definition of frustration. No wonder that it seems to be a constant in my life. Frustration is what leads me in wanting to believe in nothing or to join a Fight Club.

Could you imagine Ron Santo is the basement of Lou's pummeling Len Kasper into Oblivion, beating him to death with his prosthetic leg? Hopefully, he is spending the afterlife decimating those sport writers that did not vote him into Cooperstown in their lifetimes, but I suppose it cannot be heaven for him till he gets his hands around the throats of the veterans committee.

Religion, another frustration, another reason to focus on philosophy. Philosophies like those provided by the characters of Chuck Palahniuk novels. Give me some credit. I do eventually get back to the point. Adapt this method of storytelling if you ever have to go into therapy, and enjoy watching the psychotherapist go nuts.

The approach does not work in group sessions. With so many people, they are quicker to demand you get to the point. Just stay quiet and have a good cry after the session. Just like "Fight Club."

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