It’s over. Thanks be to God.
Beisbol, Basketball, Football.
Maybe one or two of these effeminate manchildren running around wearing a shirt with some other imbecile’s name plastered across it will retrieve his gonads from his wife’s purse and get a life. Or from the pickle jar atop his tee-vee.
One or two.
I turned myself to other things, and I saw the oppressions that are done under the sun, and the tears of the innocent, and they had no comforter; and they were not able to resist their violence, being destitute of help from any.  And I praised the dead rather than the living:  And I judged him happier than them both, that is not yet born, nor hath seen the evils that are done under the sun.  Again I considered all the labours of men, and I remarked that their industries are exposed to the envy of their neighhour: so in this also there is vanity, and fruitless care.  The fool foldeth his hands together, and eateth his own flesh, saying:
 Better is a handful with rest, than both hands full with labour, and vexation of mind.  Considering I found also another vanity under the sun:  There is but one, and he hath not a second, no child, no brother, and yet he ceaseth not to labour, neither are his eyes satisfied with riches, neither doth he reflect, saying: For whom do I labour, and defraud my soul of good things? in this also is vanity, and a grievous vexation.