It is 2014. So allow me to take this opportunity to selflessly grant you and your family a Happy New Year. Though it is unlikely, may you enjoy health and riches, as I do.
But not only is it a new year, another, more important, holiday is upon us, my birthday. Despite thinking of me, often, I know, as an omnipresent gaseous cloud with the ability to shape shift and occupy the body of any sentient being, I am a real a man, with a real date of birth.
My birthday, as Sovereign Ruler of All Jewish Baseball, my numerology, if you will, was carefully calibrated by the MANY AND JUST GODS OF JEWISH BASEBALL, and, naturally, I was assigned the perfect day to be born, a new year, a new baby– almost perfect. Like everyone, as the year changes, so does my age. But not like everyone, because of the year I was born, 1980, my age changes to the same number as the year. For example, the day it became the year 2000, I turned 20. Think of it like an eclipse.
But no! The Gods changed their minds, messed up, lost track of the days, and instead of the perfect birthday, January 1st, I was born on the 2nd, the forgotten day, the day that is not a day, the Day The Earth Weeps, the day we go back to school, or work, the REAL 1st day of the year. Celebrating a birthday on January 2nd is like going for a jog the day after running the New York City Marathon. And so this was my destiny, the boy without a birthday.
But I did not come here to divulge the mathematical secrets of my powers, or complain, though I have. I came to say that I, King of All Jewish Baseball, professional blogger and dancer, the greatest exaggerator of all time, am getting old. This year, it becomes 2014, and I become, do the math, 2 + 0 + 1 = 3, add the 4… 34. My projected rookie season in the Major Leagues, according to this Ouija Board, will be in 2018, at 38, a bit later than planned, but still pretty good.
So, I have 4 years to get ready. I think I am on track, have a good pace going. I Cross Fit 3 days a week with the National Team. I sleep with my concubines submerged in a flotation tank inside a hyperbolic chamber full of Dead Sea Mud. And I receive a full blood transfusion every 3 months, like Bartolo Colon, where all my blood is drained, mixed with the blood of 1,000 lambs and Madonna’s tears, and injected back into my lifeless flesh. And I am good for 90 days.
And with this modest routine and prophecy I enter my 34th year on the planet, if my memory serves correct, suffering, striving, with you, ready to the lead the many millions of JEWISH BASEBALL WARRIORS, and readers, of course, into the grand future past post Y2K pre apocalyptic millennial era.