I’m only now just “crawling from the wreckage,” as Dave Edmuds once put it. The carnage from what remains of Baltimore is naught but charred ruins and empty Courvoisier bottles.
This city has always been a fuse. The spark came on Friday when Baltimore Ravens linebacker/legend Ray Lewis stunned his loyal fan base by announcing he was done after this playoff run. Seventeen years was enough.
The fine citizenry of Charm City, a.k.a. Harm City, a.k.a. Mob Town, a.k.a. The City that Bleeds, a.k.a. Bodymore, Murderland, immediately entered a panicked frenzy. What would they do without their beloved linebacker/murder suspect?
For two days the town was on edge. It all culminated with yesterday’s game, a home playoff tilt against none other than the Indianapolis, née Baltimore Colts.
Bring home Baltimore’s once-beloved team to play the villains in Ray Lewis’ final home game? It was too much for people to take. It’s like telling a man his children are going to die regardless, but at least they’ll go to heaven if he murders his wife.
The town snapped.
At the 1:00 kickoff, the street were empty save for some tumble weeds and a smattering of wandering meth addicts. The entire metro area, city and suburbs alike, were glued to their television sets, the frenzied 70,000 in the stadium a multitude wild-eyed true-believers.
Lewis came out of the runway and unleashed his insane, hellish, pre-game chicken dance.
Sporting a new, ultra black face mask, he then went on to have a double digit tackle game.
He also had half a sack and dropped a sure interception.
But at the end of the game a Ravens victory was in hand, and Lewis stood triumphant at midfield, holding Indianapolis quarterback Andrew Luck’s severed head aloft, before he spasmodically exploded into one last display of ritualized convulsion.
In that one phantasmagoric moment, the fans’ blood lust reached a fever pitch. How could they possibly and suitably honor this living god of violence and mayhem? This noble warrior who had won them a Super Bowl, a Super Bowl MVP, two NFL Defensive Player of the Year awards, the mantle of greatest middle linebacker to ever grace the gridiron, and a ticket in the year 2000 for what was then the biggest fine ever issued by the league: a quarter of a million dollars for an obstruction of justice conviction he’d plead to after helping his blood-soaked, knife-wielding friends dodge a murder rap?
There was only action that could do this justice: Burn down Baltimore!
Of course about a quarter of the city burned down and was boarded up years ago, but that still left a lo
t of row houses aching for the torch.
And so we set this fuckin’ town on fire. We sacrificed virgins. We had sex with goats. We threw hobos into knife pits. We honored Ray Lewis.
And now we’re hoping FEMA will help pay to clean up the mess.