Monday, August 4, 1997
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7 Plus Or Minus 2, Inducted Into Fame Hall

Livermore, KS - (Aug 4) - Speeven Steelberg, editor of "Porn Bombing" was inducted into the Confessional Baseball Hall of Fame for Drug and Firearm Possession, today, at a ceremony held at Confessional Stadium in Livermore, Kansas.

Speeven Steelberg, the editor of "Porn Bombing," thinks that just saying, "Me too!" in your own words, in a loud voice, is a big deal.

"I guess I just remember too many of those seasons," said Steelberg, "Where a back-up quarterback would come off the bench replacing the just critically-injured starter in the 3rd quarter, rally the team, excite the fans, look sharp and ultimately win with a miracle 60 yard bomb in the 4th quarter with a second left on the clock and no timeouts. Then go on to finish the remaining 8 games of the season with more interceptions than completions, more fumbled snaps than clean handoffs, and much more 3rd and Thirty from the 3, than 1st and Goal from the One."

"See," said Steelberg, to over 11,000 international sports and sporting goods reporters covering the event from all over the world, "'The New York Times' apparently must have been too busy watching, you know, 'When 10-Year-Olds Throw 5-Year-Olds Out the Window,' to bother with the newsroom monitors behind them, silently blinking 'Proceeding to continue to blow it .......'"

Also indicted into the Hall of Fame were Slow White and the Seven Wharves (plus or minus 2), and So What and the Seven Whatevers.

In their simultaneous phonetically-delivered acceptance speeches, they attempted to answer the age old question, "Why are people Mad?"

"According to 'The Washington Post' and 'The Wall Street Journal' and 'Sandra Bullock Naked,'" they said, "Everyone is just waiting for a sign. This is the origin of the bakery number system. Everyone has made a deal with a higher or lower power of his or her choice or not. And everyone is getting, like, tired of waiting for Johnny Cochrane and Marcia Clark to come back with the verdict on the forensic pharmacology of the DNA of the history of the fucking number they drew."

"Fortunately," they told the sporting reporters, "At least these days, at the end of any sanctimony, there's always a professionally-voiced, 'Operators are standing by' to remind you that the only Art left is the art of delicately shouting the name of the ghostwriter of your pimp's resumé in a theater full of seething market karma, and the only religion left, is just people praying for the opportunity to become brutally powerful motherfuckers -- which is, apparently, the origin of the bakery number system."

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