Philosophical Bunting VIII

A flute with no holes is not a flute. A doughnut with no holes is a danish.

Perhaps it is best to discard all of the knowledge previously dispensed here within The Academy of Bunting Sciences and instead return to our Core Principles.

I swear to god those are on a sheet of paper around here somewhere. Huh. It is entirely possible I ate it after finding no Moon Cheese in my cupboard.

So we must proceed without Core Principles to guide us here at the Academy, which is now limited to this dinghy just off the coast of Floofingting-upon-Breverford. It is required that the following article is consumed with the utmost sincerity; any assumption that words utilized are in jest, fliers, jokes, etc. must be discarded and the most literal interpretation is required. Failure to take all words at face value will result in the invasion of Floofington-upon-Breverford and the wholesale sacking of Breverford Estuary Mall.

Important Considerations

[this section is burnt]

Further Considerations

In the 1980 film Caddyshack Ty Webb dispenses timeless wisdom to Danny Noonan.

“Be the ball, Danny.”

It remains the only sports advice that matters; if one simply becomes the ball then all becomes possible. As ball, know all about ball. Nothing of ball remains hidden. All facets of ball illuminated as, as ball, ball.

Ball. Not sure what to tell runners, skiers, or swimmers.

In order to properly become a baseball it is crucial to eat baseballs as every meal of the day. Anything less than this level of commitment from a Professional Athlete renders them a carbon husk of unreached potential, and any and all entities not currently maximized is unfit for participation in society. As such it is time for all to begin eating baseballs.

I offer the following recipe served at my Thanksgiving dinner this year.

Dingers in a Blanket

You must always lean into the chaos of life—and what’s more chaotic than baseballs wrapped in dough? Let’s fry up a delicious snack!

Ingredients:

12 baseballs (must have been a home run)

1 can of refrigerated crescent roll dough

1/4 cup melted butter

1 tablespoon garlic powder

1 tablespoon dried parsley

A sprinkle of sea salt

Instructions:

Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C).

Prepare your baseballs. You’ll want to ensure there are no cracks, because nothing says strikeout like a baseball splintering mid-bake. Once your baseballs are prepped, set them aside.

Unroll the crescent dough. Place it on a clean, flat surface, preferably one that symbolizes your own free will. I’m not saying it’s an act of rebellion, but every time I make this dough I think about how something as simple as bread can become a statement of individualism against the uniformity of the regime. Roll it out, and don’t let it touch the baseballs just yet. We’re not rushing things here.

You’re rushing, Stephen. Slow down. I’m sorry — Mikhail, can you please put Stephen on the next train east? If he struggles just knock him out. Excellent.

Carefully cut the dough into squares big enough to envelop the baseballs. Wrap the dough around each ball. Place them on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Make sure each baseball is snug in its dough blanket. These little guys deserve the warmth of love, just like the hard-working citizens of a society free from the reign of oppression.

Using a pastry brush or your circle-change grip spread melted butter over the dough. Sprinkle the garlic powder, parsley, and sea salt on top for that extra flair.

Place the baseballs in the oven for 12-15 minutes, or until golden brown. As they bake, take a moment to reflect on the absurdity of it all.

Serve them with a side of ketchup, mustard, onions, or even some homemade pickles—because in a free society, the condiments are as diverse as the flavors. As you bite into your baseball-in-a-blanket, consider how such a small, humble snack can inspire thoughts of freedom.

Final Considerations

I spent several years training to be a baseball at Mezzocom Baseball School during the 1990s. For hours at a time, I stared into the mirror and visualized myself becoming an entire sack of balls. In order to prepare for my life as a ball I clubbed myself again and again with all different types of bats, crashed into walls with my head, and leapt into leather webbing. It was only when the owner of the school finally realized why the outfield wall was dented all over the place that I was removed from the premises and banned from Australia for life.

You do not have to go through such an ordeal, friend. Simply deploy the above recipe each and every day of your life for every meal and you, too, can become a baseball.

Good luck, godspeed, and do not forget to floss the seams out of your teeth. No cavities allowed.