Yesterday, I walked — nay, I strutted — down Main Street, as if I had not a care in the world. The birds chirped their melodies and I whistled along. My friend talked about the night of drinking that he was recovering from as he hustled in stride with me, but I could only think about how happy I was. Finally, noticing my carefree manner, he turned to me and said, “Dude, did you get laid last night or something?”

“No.” I replied, “unfortunately, I didn’t.” Then I continued on my way, whistling to the tune of “The Big Rock Candy Mountain” as I went.

“Then what’s going on?” He inquired. “You’re…you’re chipper. I haven’t seen you this happy in ages.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and explained, “Well, for the past year or so, it’s just seemed to me as though the whole world had been turned upside down. You see, the one segment of Binghamton society, and American society in general, that I dislike most was just so happy all the time, but now they’re relegated to shame.

“I’m talking, of course, about conservative Boston sports fans. With such spite I remember how Red Sox fans poured into my room a year ago to taunt me, as their team exacted a cruel revenge on mine in return for decades of torment. The stink that a Boston sports fan emits while celebrating is tantamount to that of my toilet after a night of gorging myself on Rathskeller wings and Keystone Ice.

“Then a few days later, my Republican friends, some of whom were also Boston fans, sought to ridicule me yet again. This time because I had been an avid opponent of the dark side. These select few souls, with their Boston hats and multiple popped collars, saw to it that the evidence of their victories could be found wherever I was. Not a day went by that I didn’t get a reminder (either of President Bush or the World Champion Red Sox) that shit reigned supreme in America.

“They grew to be all the more irritating when the New England Patriots won the Superbowl. Their aroma grew ever stronger; it smelled kind of like what old people holding onions in a dentist’s office next to a herd of cattle would smell like. It seemed as though nothing could go wrong for the forces of darkness. But of course, I should have known, their time would be short-lived.

“It started in late August, the Sox controlled first place in the American League quite comfortably, and at the same time John Roberts was breezing through his Supreme Court confirmation process. Then suddenly, things for the uglies started to fall apart. The Jedi from the Bronx started winning almost every night, and concurrently we started hearing whispers about charges being brought against members of the Bush administration.

“The month of October has righted much that is wrong. The Yankees stormed ahead and stole the American League East from right under the Red Sox’s noses. Suddenly, Dick Cheney’s top adviser had to resign amid a controversy the likes of which Washington hasn’t seen since Watergate. And then Bush’s next Supreme Court pick, Harriet Miers, was forced to step out of the limelight after three weeks of utter public humiliation. Oh, and the New England Patriots are pitiful, just pitiful. They’ve resorted to playing a guy who suffered a stroke earlier this year.

“You may have noticed, that the smell, the conservative-Boston-sports-fan-while-gloating reek (the one that is reminiscent of a mix of charred flesh mixed with burnt rubber marinated with grundel sweat and wrapped in decomposing skunk) is beginning to lift. The Northeast is free again.”

Graham Kates is a junior international affairs major.