Guest Columnist: Poony Poon

Today, my dear reader, we have a special contributor, Ms. Poony Poon, child prodigy pianist and New York Times biz section covergirl. Poony?

Thanks, Schmutz. I'm here to talk about piano playing and about baseball. First off, Richie Sexson may hit have hit a homerun in both the first and the second games of the season, but I'm deeply suspicious of what that projects to. (First off, how do you say home run in Chinese?) I mean, the guy gets $15.5 million, 12th in the bigs to swing the bat at a .269 clip. I mean, Maurizo Pollini has far superior stats, including a Grammy. He opens major cultural institutions. He has soul. Sexson likes Kevin Costner, Sushi and the X-Files. (Okay, he probably likes 24 at this point.)

Yet here's Larry Stone, giving him a fluff job once again. Larry Stone is and always has been the bane of my 10 year old existence. This guy thinks he writes well. Think again. This guy is a hackneyed fool and even Schubert could tell you that. Look at this crap:

Of all the necessities for the Mariners in this season where the worst-case scenario would be disastrous, a consistently crushing Sexson ranks near the top.

I'm sorry, is that even English? I'm from China and I know that doesn't cut the mustard and the rye bread. I know I know, it's a long season and you gotta make something out of every game. So hard to be a columnist, boo hoo. Only guys who make any money at local papers are columnists, and to add insult to injury, Larry, you write like Rick Wakeman plays the keyboards. And that's not a good thing.

Larry Stone, I know Franz Liszt, and you're no Franz Liszt.

PS: the last time the Mariners won their first two games, I couldn't even play Heart and Soul. (embarrasing but true!)

Okay, back to MySpace's classical room!

PPS: Fuck you Tower records. Who will buy my music now?