They're baa-aack...

This weekend I will be leaving Manhattan to watch large, powerful mammals being urged through speed competition by small people with napoleonic complexes hitching along for a ride-- I just don't yet have a venue picked. Although the possibility of watching Smarty Jones repeat Seattle Slew's 1977 undefeated Triple Crown run at the Belmont Stakes horse race is tempting, I can always catch it on Sportscenter. I will therefore most likely find myself in southern Jersey watching Divison I oarsmen contend for the 101st national title while ESPN focuses its cameras elsewhere upon more deserving athletic contests, like the National Spelling Bee. And if I needed coaxing, the thrill of additional danger accompanies the usual drama of shootings, deli robberies and general unpleasantness associated with a trip to Camden. This year, the place is sure to be overrun by the crusade of cicadas.
You may be blithely unaware of the impending hordes; New York is a fortress Zion against the implacable swarm, a sanctuary where children grow unscarred by their shrill battle cry and the streets are not littered with corpses. But I have been beyond the walls, and have seen the carnage wrought upon the Real World. And while we have no concerted defense against the onslaught, there are some who stand their ground against the terrible menace. My only hope is that I, too, when thrown in the breach, can muster the strength to face the unfaceable for the sake of humanity.