OK, I'm kind of pissed off. I've tried to post this song twice, and I keep getting some kind of error that shuts down my computer. I'm going to try again. First off, nothing's happening. I'm broke until next Wednesday, I'm looking forward to the initial meeting of Project I Am on Friday night. Leslie is currently at a golf outing with her company today. She'll be home in an hour.

And now, today, the final attempt at this entry from the Writ Of Common Wisdom. It does need some background. I am a passive sports fan. I've been a little more passive since I left Philadelphia, but I follow sports with some level of acuity. My favorite sport is ice hockey, and in the summer months (and what may be longer this year due to a labor dispute) when there's no hockey, I turn to baseball. Baseball is a very forgiving game. You can be at your worst physically and mentally and still have the game of your life. Babe Ruth often hit home runs when he was either drunk or hung over, and he's still beloved after all these years. Which brings us to the strange case of pitcher Dock Ellis. One day in the early 1970's, while pitching for the Pittsburgh Pirates, Dock Ellis threw a no-hitter, which is not an easy feat. I watched Steve Carlton, who was the best conditioned left-handed pitcher I ever saw, win 329 games in the big leagues, and he never threw a no-hitter. Dock Ellis did, but on the day he threw his no-hitter, he was erratic. He walked a few guys, hit a few guys and generally had no control of the ball, and yet he threw a no-hitter. Years later in an interview, Ellis admitted that on the day he threw his no-hitter, which was the absolute apex of his big league career, he was on LSD. When presented with this information, I couldn't possibly ignore it. Therefore I give you....


Dock Ellis


Why is the crowd swaying back and forth the way they are?
(Can’t hit me, you know you can’t hit me)

What a weird-looking multi-colored bullpen car
(Can’t hit me, you know you can’t hit me)

It’s a beautiful day for baseball, or for kickin’ back and shootin’ the breeze

I can get these guys out with the greatest of ease


I don’t need any warm-up pitches today
(Can’t hit me, you know you can’t hit me)

The tip of my tongue says I can pitch out here all day
(Can’t hit me, you know you can’t hit me)
I’m sorry I hit your leg, baby, I’m sorry I hit your arm

Like, I don’t believe in doing anybody harm…you dig?


I’m not the world’s greatest pitcher, but today I’m the whole league’s ace

Today you won’t hit one by me; today you’ll never wipe this smile off my face; YAA!


One more out and my no-hitter day is through
(Can’t hit me, you know you can’t hit me)

You can’t hit me but dude I can sure hit you
(Can’t hit me, you know you can’t hit me)

The pitcher’s mound ain’t the only thing I’ll be coming down from today

Life is like…you know…what did I just say?


And that's that. This song is my psychedelic (of course) tour-de-force. When completed, this one is one for the ages as far as effects go.
I'm going to get some decent sleep tonight, so this post is my last today. Take care of each other. It could be that that is all you get for a while.