There are so many things wrong with the world, it’s hard to know where to begin. War, corruption, politicians, ignorance and pestilence occupy a lot of our attention, and deservedly so. But, quietly, almost insidiously, a far greater risk threatens our way of life. In magnificent stadiums all across the land, grown men are wearing pajama bottoms. Baseball — America’s Glorious Pastime — has become the haven for a bunch of sloppy, rumpled, bedraggled bush leaguers. With notable exceptions, baseball players suffer from arrested development, clinging to their T-Ball days, when Mommy and Daddy sat behind the schoolyard batting cages and cursed at the volunteer coaches and officials. Their sponsored uniforms often didn’t fit. The skinny kids ran around in sacks. Fat kids in what looked like spandex. But they loved them and wore them everywhere — often to bed. And if Mommy didn’t allow that sort of thing, why, she went out and bought jammies that looked just like them. Now, generations later, we have a storied game occupied by adult members of the Bad News Bears. Disturbingly, this is baseball. You might have expected other sports to dumb themselves down, and they have. But this is our “grand old game,” so steeped in its detailed lore, so exacting in its composition. Perhaps the Pajama Game is a sign of the times. Instead of inspiring their progeny to covet maturity and choose tasteful behavior, parents commit role reversal and behave more like adolescents every day. Male crotches, once located in the vicinity of the groin, now reside closer to the knees. Hairy butt cracks have become enchanting. Evidently, no one has clued-in 99% of women over 14, that an abdomen ain’t automatically sexy. You can add to this bad taste the growing array of piercings and tattoos, and begin to understand why God had issues with A&E. But all of this human decline pales in comparison to the shabby treatment of baseball by the likes of Clemens, Jeter, Bonds, A-Rod and a host of other superslobs. What a joy it was to see a true player — a throwback professional — one Alfonso Soriano — jack one out off Clemens in the recent All-Star game. He struck a blow, not just for himself, but for the sanctity of baseball. While this authentic baseball player trotted around the bases, he made his grown teammates look silly in their jammies.

If you survive long enough, getting old is life’s ultimate joke. Optimists and other cheery souls will be quick to disagree with this cynical view. They will cite a myriad of scintillating benefits that accompany the “golden” years. Hmmm, what could those be? Senior citizen discounts at I-Hop have to rank at the top. The courtesy parking slot at the mall comes in handy. Think about the hundreds of state and federal agencies devoted to the Aging. What a relief it is to have AARP, Medicare and Medicaid in your corner. Is anything more rewarding than reliving your youth babysitting with the grandchildren? And never forget the warm, secure feeling of knowing that a “retirement country club” is out there somewhere waiting for you to eventually check in, cozy up to the buffet and wait for God. Where’s the Glock, Matilda? In reality, getting old is recoiling in shock when the bored I-Hop waitress takes one look at your sagging face, assumes you’re stone deaf and yells at you. Getting old is being called a “dirty old man” for overtly lusting after a tight tush. Getting old is being portrayed on TV commercials as feeble imbeciles — addle-brained geriatrics cavorting and cackling like juvenile loonies. You begin to get the picture when you realize you’re no better than an old car — every day something else breaks and you have to fix it to keep it running. To make matters worse, you begin to accept the idea that you’ve done your duty and now you’ve earned the right to be utterly useless. You make leisure the centerpiece of your life, as if having no purpose were an achievement. Listen up, old people. Here’s a free idea that can bring meaning to your life and simultaneously transform society.. Everyone over the age of 60 — men and women alike — should comprise the combat-ready Armed Forces. That’s right, old people should fight our wars. No one under the age of 60 would be allowed on the field of battle. Young people need to be at home, with a chance to live their lives, work, have babies and build a better society. Meanwhile, old people suddenly have something useful to do. They suddenly have purpose. They suddenly discover a way to die with dignity and honor, instead of wasting away in suffocating institutions. With this idea, social security becomes a non-issue and the massive tax outlay for the aging society disappears. Children will get their inheritances sooner, enabling them to strengthen their families and build even more wealth. And when these generations reach the age of 60, they automatically leave the private sector for mandatory duty in the military. Old people can fight. Millions upon millions of them are physically-fit enough to learn anything, fly anything, drive anything and shoot anything. If life has to be a joke, let’s have the last laugh by going out in a blaze of glory.

John said he sees two Americas. His sidekick agreed with him. Of course, his opponents attacked him for dividing the nation. But of all the rhetoric blowing out of all the political camps, you have to say Mr. Kerry nailed The Truth. Even though his motive was to spread malignant unrest for personal ambition, give the man credit. He unwittingly confirmed a reality—America is a nation of people sharply divided, more divided than at any time in the Republic’s history, including the Civil War. What? Are you nuts? Maybe. That’s not the point. Slavery and state’s rights issues drove a political wedge between the North and South. But the men in gray and blue who fought in the trenches were cut out of the same cloth. They fought over specific pragmatic principles yet shared common values. Today’s Americans are also split into two camps, but the breach between them can never be reconciled. There is no common ground. Facing that fact, we should agree to the creation of two Americas—say, the United Socialist Republic of America and the United Capitalist Republic of America. It’s a simple concept. Each State would vote to join the Republic for which it stands. Very likely, one Republic would be composed of more States than the other. Not to worry. The two Republics would not require that the country be split in half geographically. State boundaries would remain fixed, as they are today. Each Republic would be free to retain the Founding Father’s vision, or change it. With this brilliant plan, the millions of Americans (primarily Democrats) who continually press for a Socialist government can finally realize their aims and way of life under greater centralized control. The Capitalist Republic (primarily Republicans) will give up almost all authority to member States, thrilling millions who simply want government out of their lives. The plan does have a flaw — the rather massive relocation of people who would be opposed to their State’s choice. On the bright side, however, these crossover migrations could spark the economies of both Republics. This would not be hard to do. The infrastructure is already in place. Digital technology can easily transfer citizen records to their respective Republics. And off we go. Oh, there’s one other thing. The States would have to get a handle on immigration issues. We wouldn’t want one Republic to become overcrowded, now, would we?