Bang, zoom, straight to the moon!

The Barry Bonds ball has been sold. Luckily, unlike The Card it didn't vanish in a behind door transaction to some anonymous buyer who will flip it to another guy with too damn much money on his hands in a year or two. Nope, Like McGwire's #70 the ball went to an artist who wants to make a statement and get a little publicity on the side. Fashion designer and graffiti enthusiast Mark Ecko is the lucky bidder who won the ball. He's the guy from the viral video spraying graffiti onto Air Force One. Unlike McFarlane, Ecko has no intentions of keeping the ball. He has a website where you can vote on what happens to the ball. Here are the choices:

1) Give it to Cooperstown

2) Give it to Cooperstown after branding it with an Asterisk

3) Shoot it off into space

I've been pretty conciliatory towards Bonds in his home run chase considering I damn near worship Hank. No matter what he did 5 years ago it's still incredibly hard to hit home runs when you're in your 40s. Besides, the record was going to fall eventually anyway and at least Hank got some well deserved accolades. I don't think the ball should be branded with an asterisk. It's time to let it go and move on.

Thing is, I've been a fan of the space program longer than I've been a baseball fan. Shooting the thing up into space would give much needed publicity to the space program. Besides, I want to see how he's going to get the ball up there. Forget the steroid scandal, how shameful would it be if America had to shoot the home run record ball up into space on a Russian or Chinese rocket because our own space program has been so woefully neglected? I say send that sucker to the moon. Maybe the Home Run Derby champ up there will assist. I'm so committed to this cause I'm willing to obnoxiously embed video into my blog to support it.




If you're not an Eva fan, here's some other moon music to enjoy.

Dean & Britta: Moonshot

Tom Waits: Drunk on the Moon

B52s: There's a Moon in the Sky Called the Moon

Don't be like this guy, go out and vote!

Finally, in the immortal words of Allan Sherman:

My name is Mr. Bloom, and I'm from New Rochelle,
And I sing this happy tune,
Because my son, the astronaut, young Harvey Bloom,
Has landed on the moon.
My wife and I, we miss our little Harvey so,
Back here in New Rochelle,
That every single night,
In the pale moonlight,
We walk out on the patio and yell:

Shine on, shine on, Harvey Bloom-- up in the sky.
You have been in orbit since January, February, June and July.
Don't come back too soon, we rented out your room.
So shine on, shine on, Harvey Bloom-- up there on the moon.

We'll miss you on the holidays, this year they're coming later.
We hope you have a very lovely seder in your crater.
Your mama sent the astronauts some chicken soup at school.
They're using it instead of rocket fuel.

If you like outer space, you oughta see your sister Janet.
She came in with a hairdo that is from another planet.
Your girl friend Shirley misses you, the Air Force says she had
A temper tantrum on the launching pad.

Shine on, shine on, Harvey Bloom-- up in the sky.
Under separate cover, I'm sending you some pickles and a corned beef on rye.
You brought Bromo Seltzer with you, I presume.
So shine on, shine on, Harvey Bloom.

Harvey Bloom Barry's ball is on the moon, oh yeah!