Nobody wintering now behind the planked-up windows where Theo set …
I'm so glad to hear about this "general manager-by-committee" thingy.
Absolutely. It's going to be like bullpen-by-committee except even bettah.
People say, "eliminate the middle man" but I say, no, what we really need are more middle men. Less is not moah. Moah is moah.
And it's going to be business as usual, fercrissakes. This GM-by-committee will have carte blanche to make any decision necessary provided, of course, it's exactly the same decision Lucky desires.
It's a textbook example of how to run a successful baseball club. Is it any wondah why GM candidates are beating a path down Yawkey Way eagahly seeking the job?
Have we reached the nadir in which by wanting to be the Red Sox GM one proves one is not qualified for the position?
Grey waves the stub-necked eiders ride. A labor of love, and that labor lost.
The title of today's strip and Susan's final speech are from Sylvia Plath's poem "Point Shirley" from the collection The Colossus and Other Poems. Oh, and the intro text is a variation from another line in the same poem.