Mooney Doctor II
from Immune To Consequences by Walrus Promenade
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about
Mooney Doctor II was a reasonably interesting Blaseball player but our conception of her started with "she lives on, and pitches from, the Moon" and pretty much went from there. Notably, she's one of few Blaseball players to deflect an umpire's incineration attempt back onto the ump. But this song is more about what it would be like to play Blaseball, and see your entire team obliterated, from the moon.
Many of these songs aren't necessarily only about Blaseball. This one is not exactly a pandemic song. But it's not *not* a pandemic song.
Many of these songs aren't necessarily only about Blaseball. This one is not exactly a pandemic song. But it's not *not* a pandemic song.
lyrics
The light from the stadium takes three whole seconds to get here:
three seconds in which I'm the loneliest person alive.
I queue up the pitches and load them all into the railgun, one by one,
and hope that they're not too embarrassing when they arrive.
And all the machinery murmurs its comforting updates,
immaculate steel I maintain like a surrogate body.
I don't know what half of it does, but I can't stand the static and fuzz
that keeps me from hearing my friends on the team when reception is spotty.
Asynchronous transfers and chat rooms at night:
The pull of the game on a satellite.
But nothing can touch me as long as I'm safely out here.
When the ump attacks, I see it coming from hundreds of thousands of miles away.
I rotate my railgun minutely and toggle a switch.
And when it's all over my feed shows a smoldering crater on the field,
and my Breath Mints all cheering me on from the edge of the ditch.
I don't know if what I just did was allowed,
but I hope that it made Hewitt proud.
And I hope he beats that ump's ass when they meet in the hall.
The seasons drag on in increasing resentment and chaos.
They gave me a bat, it makes even less sense than before.
And my fortress of solitude's starting to feel like a prison,
and I'm feeling the lack of real human contact more and more.
I steal all the steel chairs and then I just toss them aside:
a tantrum I throw to feel tangible down on the diamond.
As the fields and the skies get more crowded I can't disguise feeling like: how did I end up here, all disconnected and echoing down these cold hallways, so far from the game that I'm technically playing but always completely removed and forever outside it?
So when the cruel flame arcs from the indifferent dark once again,
on its way from blasting all my fastest friends,
I think about the Hall and if I'll see them all in the flesh
(or whatever we have then),
and I let it happen.
three seconds in which I'm the loneliest person alive.
I queue up the pitches and load them all into the railgun, one by one,
and hope that they're not too embarrassing when they arrive.
And all the machinery murmurs its comforting updates,
immaculate steel I maintain like a surrogate body.
I don't know what half of it does, but I can't stand the static and fuzz
that keeps me from hearing my friends on the team when reception is spotty.
Asynchronous transfers and chat rooms at night:
The pull of the game on a satellite.
But nothing can touch me as long as I'm safely out here.
When the ump attacks, I see it coming from hundreds of thousands of miles away.
I rotate my railgun minutely and toggle a switch.
And when it's all over my feed shows a smoldering crater on the field,
and my Breath Mints all cheering me on from the edge of the ditch.
I don't know if what I just did was allowed,
but I hope that it made Hewitt proud.
And I hope he beats that ump's ass when they meet in the hall.
The seasons drag on in increasing resentment and chaos.
They gave me a bat, it makes even less sense than before.
And my fortress of solitude's starting to feel like a prison,
and I'm feeling the lack of real human contact more and more.
I steal all the steel chairs and then I just toss them aside:
a tantrum I throw to feel tangible down on the diamond.
As the fields and the skies get more crowded I can't disguise feeling like: how did I end up here, all disconnected and echoing down these cold hallways, so far from the game that I'm technically playing but always completely removed and forever outside it?
So when the cruel flame arcs from the indifferent dark once again,
on its way from blasting all my fastest friends,
I think about the Hall and if I'll see them all in the flesh
(or whatever we have then),
and I let it happen.
credits
from Immune To Consequences,
released November 5, 2022
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Walrus Promenade Seattle, Washington
discography
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Nov 2022 -
Apr 2022 -
Apr 2019 -
Apr 2016 -
Nov 2023
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