Well, nobody can say that they didn't see that coming.
Nope. And at times like these you just have to give thanks...
Thank you Boston Red Sox for your foreshadowing back in April, the cruelest month, the coming of this dry death, this dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit, where here one can neithah stand nor lie nor sit...
And thank you Boston Red Sox for the wicked pack of Tarot cahds you drew stahting at the beginning of Septembah — the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is T Francona, The Leader of the Sox, the fady one of situations.
Oh, here is the man with the neck tattoos, and here the Bard, And here is the glare-eyed Lackey, and this cahd,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see.
And that corpse Theo planted last year in the Fens,
It has begun to sprout. It set bloom this year.
Ah, yes, that brown fog of a wintah dawn.
You know, brown is so in right now.
Are you kidding me? I looking friggin good in brown.