The Chicago Sun-Times is fighting the power … with limericks

April 17th, 2008 | Posted by PostmanE

Getting all worked up about changing Wrigley Field’s ancient name is pretty lame. Know what’s lamer? Stoking the anti-change populist fires in a sad, desperate attempt at drawing attention to your newspaper. Know what’s even lamer than that? Doing so with limericks. Yes: freaking limericks.

The Sun-Times seems to be running one of these “Let Sam Zell know what you think!” community stories every third day now, and today’s installment is yet another proud edition to the pantheon. Keep in mind, as you read on in horror, that these were chosen as the best from a “flood” of entries. Taking these apart piece by piece is kinda mean, so instead I’ll just let the artists’ work stand on its own. Order your cappuccino, adjust your beret, and politely close your MacBook Pro away — it’s the first annual WATP Poetry Slam!

The state wants to buy Wrigley Field,
for the rent money that it will yield.
With a corporate name
It won’t be the same,
And the wound will never be healed.

Change Wrigley’s name? We deplore it,
We hate all the bad reasons for it.
If a company should,
We’ll boycott their goods
And the corporate name, we’ll ignore it.

For every sad generation
That has left Wrigley Field in frustration,
Between the foul poles
We have given our souls
And resent any new appellation.

To tradition true Cubs fans will cleave, and
embrace history and hope in ”Believe”-land
But if we listen to Zell
we might as well sell
the name “Chicago” to Cleveland. 

I spend a decent amount of time thinking about people of the future will look back on our society. (This thought precludes the possibility that we destroy the Earth in like 50 years, but whatever.) And I get to thinking, and I genuinely believe this. Humans in 2100 will look back at our era as I look at the Renaissance — as a time of incredible positive discovery, innovation, and conscientiousness, a time just as formative as any in the history of the human race. That makes me feel good, you know? That after I’m gone, the things my peers are doing will live on forever as the foundations for a more interconnected, intelligent future.

And then I read things like this, and it brings me back. Because no matter what people in the future think, when I die, I’ll know the truth: we are, as ever, remarkably stupid.