Bad Roger pulled on his St. Louis Stallions helmet and began warbling his new song:
"Meet me in St. Louie, Louie, meet me at the fair!
"I'll be watching local football, while Baltimore tears its hair!"
Good Roger sat at his desk weeping. "I don't see how the NFL owners could not have been moved by William Donald Schaefer's short but passionate speech," he sobbed.
"Yeah," Bad Roger said, "if Governor Pumpkinhead kept all his speeches down to 75 seconds, maybe people here wouldn't hate him so much."
As you can tell, Bad Roger is the sour, disagreeable, thoroughly rotten side of me.
Good Roger is the warm, decent, hopeful side of me, the side that thinks Baltimore still has a chance for a football team.
"And why not a National League baseball team while we're at it?" Bad Roger cackled.
"At this time of travail, you ought to be bringing a message of hope to a shattered city!" Good Roger cried.
"You are absolutely right," said Bad Roger. "So how about this: YOU MORONS! BALTIMORE DIDN'T HAVE A CHANCE FOR A NEW TEAM; IT DOESN'T HAVE A CHANCE FOR A NEW TEAM AND THE QUICKER YOU STOP WHINING ABOUT IT, THE BETTER OFF YOUR MISERABLE LIVES WILL BE!"
"That is not quite what I had in mind," Good Roger said.
"Well how about if everybody in Baltimore threatens to hold their breath until they die," Bad Roger suggested. "That would be mature."
"You ought to be supporting your city!" Good Roger said.
"I leave mindless boosterism to TV," Bad Roger said. "It does so good a job at it."
"I thought the television coverage of the NFL meeting this week was a fine example of grace under pressure," Good Roger said.
"And I thought it should get an Emmy for Most Hysterical Display By Reporters in a Non-Life-Threatening Situation," Bad Roger said.
"OK, so there was a little over-enthusiasm followed by a little over-disappointment," Good Roger said. "But that is to be expected."
"It is to be expected from fourth graders," Bad Roger said. "But when Jamie Costello looked like he was going to bite his own elbow, I knew television had entered a new era."
"An isolated incident," Good Roger said.
"Oh, yeah?" Bad Roger said. "How about when Scott Garceau said: 'You could cut the electricity with a knife in here!' "
"Scott Garceau is one of the finest sports broadcasters in America!" Good Roger said.
"That may be," said Bad Roger, "but the next time he tries cutting electricity with a knife, look for him at Shock Trauma."
"You are overlooking the fine TV team coverage," Good Roger said.
"Yeah, six reporters going to four bars and interviewing two drunks," Bad Roger replied. "And let's not forget Carol Costello crooning: 'Mr. Tagliabue seems so cold! He's so cold. Why is he so cold?' Listen up, Carol, maybe it's because he doesn't have you to warm him up!"
"You cannot print sexist trash like that in a newspaper," Good Roger said.
"I can as long as it is clear that I am a despicable person and an example of how not to treat women, who, in reality, are fully realized human beings in their own right," Bad Roger said.
"Oh," Good Roger said. "OK then."
"Let's face facts," Bad Roger said. "You have to be a dimwit to believe that the 22nd TV market in the nation with a football team 45 minutes away is going to be awarded a new franchise by the NFL."
"But we deserve a football team!" Good Roger said. "Bob Irsay stole the Colts from us!"
"Bob Irsay took what was his because he got a better deal elsewhere," Bad Roger said. "There is a lesson in that, if Baltimore is not too dumb to learn it."
"Which is?" Good Roger asked.
"Instead of sending our people to bow and scrape in front of the NFL," Bad Roger said, "we ought to send them to visit the unhappy owners of the Los Angeles Raiders, the New England Patriots and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers."
"You don't mean!" Good Roger gasped.
"I do indeed," Bad Roger said. "If we want football in Baltimore, we are going to have to get it the old-fashioned way: We are going to have to steal it."