Dear Readers,
As all of you know unequivocally and without fail—both because of everything I have written ever and because of the billboard I just put up in suburban Kansas City showcasing the caption “farts smell a lot more like Michael Jordan cologne 248 miles to the East…”—St. Louis, aka the New Rome, is, in my opinion and therefore Jesus’ as well, the greatest place on the face of the Earth. St. Louis is my home. St. Louis is my passion. St. Louis is, to quote the talented and never ever criticized late night host Joe Buck, the quintessential American City. St. Louis is, to paraphrase Barrack Obama in a speech he is constantly making to me in my sleep, society’s last, best, and only hope.

The first time I ever went to the Kentucky Derby I was 10-years-old and had no concept of what, exactly, horse racing was. I had never been to the track. I had never, to my knowledge, seen the Run for the Roses on TV. The litany of names that fill the centuries old lexicon of the sport--Secretariat, Whirlaway, Citation, Seattle Slew, Affirmed, Cigar, Man O’ War, Seabiscuit—were all meaningless to me. Horse racing was a sport pursued in a different era. Horse racing was a sport that was lost on me. I did not, could not, understand the beauty imbedded in a four-legged animal cruising around a dirt track with an elegance and grace that will be forever unmatched on this Earth. I did not, could not, understand the joy that could be obtained by watching a horse gallop around the final turn with an effortlessness and ease that let’s you know that this, that what you are watching, is exactly what this creature is meant to be doing, that this, that what you are watching, is exactly the reason that this creature exists in the first place.

Dear Readers,

As all of you unquestionably know—first and foremost due to the fact that all of you follow every single portion of my Facebook activity with such great focus and attention that in the sequel to the Social Network I will be a prominent character portrayed by the professional wrestler Kane—I am in favor of the proposed St. Louis Riverfront Stadium Project. I have twisted and shaped my words in the most poetic way possible in order to buttress support for it. I have factually demeaned other cities in order to rally approval around it.

I have called a certain St. Joseph, MO area State Senator’s office every single day for the past week threatening to permanently ruin each and every Johnny-on-the-Spot in his district until he unblocks me from Twitter and once again allows me to tell him how much of an idiot he is. I want the new Riverfront Stadium. I need it. I have to have it. It is the only way that I can get drunk and weep out of pure, unadulterated joy in the year 2025 in front of my as of yet to be born son as I show him exactly what a true man is; as I prove to him exactly what a true man always will be