I was enjoying my night nonetheless watching a game with the teeth of your typical Bolts-Cats matchup from the last few years. Then, during a late TV time out, I heard a song start to play. At first, I couldn’t make it out. Was it a funeral dirge? Was it some Chuck Mangione playing through someone’s phone?

I wish. It was soon crystal clear that I was hearing the boring, lazy melody of “Sweet Caroline.”

Next, I heard Neil Diamond start singing the verses (which no one knows the words to) with so much gusto that I swear I could hear the sequins on his giant-collared shirt clinking together like chain mail.

As he hit that crescendo into the chorus, I sank into my chair as far back as I could go, hoping to weather the tidal wave of douchiness that was about to wash over me.

[Neil Diamond has better songs in his catalog, sure, but ‘Sweet Caroline’ isn’t THAT bad. The song has an easy range, a pretty good hook, and everyone knows the lyrics, so what’s the problem? It’s still a hilariously bitchy take, so have fun reading it. — Ed]