OK, so no more jokes about the Red Sox.

After all, they’ve become rather excellent at being jokes on the field.

Yes, I know — you’re not the slightest bit interested in the Red Sox. They’re located in Boston, Boston is a long ways away, and besides, what’s Boston ever done for us, outside of hosting the first Tea Party and being the home of Paul Revere, who rode to New Hampshire to warn the Hampshire-ites (if that’s a word) that the Mexicans were coming?

(Why would Hampshire-ites, new or old, worry about Mexicans? you wonder. Me, too. Mexico is even farther away from Boston and New Hampshire than Iowa. I’m pretty sure about this, because my father is a geography professor.)

Pooh on the Red Sox, you say. You’d rather discuss the Paul Ryan budget.

(Yawn.)

How could a budget proposal — anybody’s budget proposal — be more interesting than a living, breathing baseball team? (OK, in the case of the Red Sox, an alleged baseball team that is allegedly living and allegedly breathing. Last time I looked, somebody tried to check the pulse of the Red Sox and found nada. There’s seems to be a Mexican conspiracy here.)

(Actually, I checked and discovered the pulse of the Red Sox resides in Liverpool — that would be England, which is farther away, etc. — watching soccer. Which the English, in their charming, Old World accent, call football. Which explains a lot. The Red Sox should be playing soccer, because, of course, they’re not playing baseball. Come to think of it, the Sox once had a star shortstop who was even better at playing soccer and married the best American woman soccer player. It’s all becoming clear. It’s not a Mexican conspiracy, it’s a soccer conspiracy. Aha.)

(Of course, it’s worth noting that I do live on a grassy knoll. Probably no connection.)

Meanwhile, back at the Ryan budget you’re all so interested in — um, why?

It’s a budget.

Enough said.

I mean, have you ever tried to read a budget? Reading a phone book is more fun. And more interesting.

No one reads a phone book, you say. Well, I did once. The Manhattan phone book. I was looking for a particular Wong. Turns out, the Manhattan phone book has around 27,000 pages of Wongs. After around 11,000 pages, I wished I was reading Henry James, and I had never in my life wished I was reading Henry James.

(If I were a judge [scary thought], I wouldn’t even sentence Republicans to 10 years of hard reading of Henry James. Maybe five.)

Meanwhile, back at the Ryan budget that you’re all so interested in (yawn), it basically guts Medicare, targets the working-class poor and other poor people, and entitles the rich to get even richer (No, I’m not still searching for the right Wong). Oh, and it creates a $4 trillion or so budget deficit.

Ryan says he has some ways to ease that deficit, but they’re secret. Yeah, you heard me right. (Kind of reminds me of Richard Nixon’s secret plan to end the war in Vietnam. Turns out it was secret because there was no plan. That’s really secret, all right.)

Mitt Romney loves the Ryan budget, of course. But then, he grew up rich and then got even richer. Gives a whole new meaning to the Bain of his existence.

The Mitt also loves drilling for oil and criticizes President Obama for not allowing more of it. But, the oil-rig count in the United States is at a 25-year high, the Associated Press cheerily tells us. That would be 1987, when the Red Sox were good. (OK, technically, the Red Sox were good in ’86, ’88, and ’90, and they took naps in ’87 and ’89. The Yankees weren’t any good in any of those seasons, so the Red Sox can be excused for nodding off.)

Maybe the Mitt will choose Ryan to be his vice-presidential candidate. Then we’ll be treated to the sight of Romney driving with Paul Ryan strapped to the roof of the car.