I can't bring in my backpack, but you can carry a long, pointy stick because it's got the right colored cloth attached

Yankee Stadium gripes my ass.

while their smoking ban (love the "Smokers Will Be Ejected" sign; gotta put that on my Christmas list), even in open ends of the concourse, has been in effect for a couple of years, a new rule against backpacks inside Yankee Stadium has now taken hold. of course you have to reach one of the (what? all of) four inconvenient entrances to find that out before you're practically shoved to the bowling alley across the street to chance to check your bag for a mere $5.

besides being terribly inconvenient (who has time to go home and drop off their backpack or briefcase after work when the game starts at 7:05? and why the hell should you have to leave the game early to avoid a human traffic jam trying to retrieve said bag?), the ban is borderline sexist, seeing as how a number of purses at least as large as backpacks made it in unscathed.

but it's a privilege to watch the most expensive team in history (complete with 2007's three highest-salaried players once Clemens arrives), right? and what's another Lincoln when a $65 (face) ticket can rent you the best seat in the upper deck? (I'm not even going to mention the $8 charge for 20 ounces of domestic beer) after all, George has to raise the cash somehow.
(talk about cheering for the house in Vegas)

by fortuitous coincidence, the New York Times ran a story (entitled "Stay Put When The Music Plays") in today's paper on how the Yankees are now using chains across the aisles to prevent fans from moving during the playing of their scratchy recording of Kate Smith's "God Bless America."
(not to be confused with the piece on how the team is now reaching out to Latin fans by offering empanadas)

I just love me some enforced patriotism - especially if I can choke it down with a ballpark empanada.

(yes Virginia, it does smell a little facist in here.)