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Bill:
A 2.5 game lead going into the Labor Day weekend? Yeah, I'll take it.
Bill:
You know there's nothing wrong with the big guy that a call from the guy who reports to the guy who reports to Putin couldn't cure.
Doug:
If Putin wants you to hit, you'll hit.
Bill:
Miley Cyrus once twerked Putin, and suddenly and inexplicably tween girls all ovah America began to call to their teddy bears "Medved."
Doug:
Yeah, so Al's probably the only one with a sense of disappointment ovah last night's outcome.
Al:
Yeah, well, you know what they say, you're only as good as your last at bat...
Al:
And I'm going to Indo-Chinese place for lunch.
Al:
That's right. The forecast is for heat with a chance of chick pea.
Doug:
Seriously, 2 homers, a ground-rule double, finishing with 4 runs and 7 RBIs? Talk about watching movies with gladiators.
Al:
And what about Napoli? If he hit that ball any highah he'd have had to contact Clarence at Logan for clearance.
Al:
You know nights like that really make you think something special is... well, you know.
Mike:
I know, I know, in the final week of August 2011 the Red Sox looked pretty good.
Mike:
But I still hold that I feel bettah about this team than I did that one.
Mike:
I mean even before beer-and-chicken-gate at least for me there was always a feeling that there was something, I dunno just something "off" about that team that foreshadowed the Septembah collapse.
Susan/Circle:
We hear the full-grown lambs loud bleat.
Susan/Circle:
And stand by the cidah press, with patient look.*
Your omniscient author in absentia:
Jury Duty this morning, so my routine is all thrown off.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
Now you paid subscribers may be wondering, "Hey, why is reporting for jury duty any different than reporting to work? How does this interrupt a strip?"
Good question. And all I can say is it's a different routine.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
If you find this unacceptable, please contact customer service for a refund.
Mike:
One day they'll find that Manny's been living in left field scoreboard.
Mike:
You know, you'd think that a guy who owns an antiquarian bookstore would no the correct use of the adverb.
Doug:
I still can't believe I fell for that.
Doug:
Can we just go ahead and keep on playing the National League teams?
Doug:
And what about Middlebrooks? Is he on fiah or what?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Yeah, that's why he's the eponymous special this week...
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
The Middlebrooks — A roasted Hatch chile pepper sliced vertically so the dog lays inside and then the whole thing in a grilled roll with mayo and dash of habanero sauce.
Doug:
Jesus, every bite is hot.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
It just keeps hitting.
Bill:
Yeah, whatevah. I used up entiah lifetime's worth of second guessing during the months of Novembah and Decembah in the year 1986.
Steve:
And yet we live in a culture that seems predisposed to isolate a single root cause for all inevitability...
Steve:
If only Farrell hadn't relied on Morales and Villareal we wouldn't have lost.
Steve:
If only you'd more effectively tweaked your statins, you wouldn't have died.
Steve:
But in the end you will lose baseball games and you will die.
Steve:
Meanwhile there's another baseball game tonight and, God willing, we'll be alive to enjoy it win or lose.
Bill:
Seriously. We are the luckiest guys on Earth.
Al:
If I could save time in a bottle, that Jon Lestah staht would be the first thing I'd do.
Doug:
Yeah, but if you put Lestah in a bottle, you should put a ship in there too so, you know, he has someplace to walk around between stahts and all.
Marty:
Hey, look at this way, Callaghan...
Marty:
I mean the latter sounds so much more profound, Gothic even.
Marty:
Kinda quiet over there, Bill, what are you stalking quahogs?
Marty:
Oh, yeah, I'm sure they're going to bounce right on back. Any day now.
Marty:
But you know what I see when I look at the Red Sox?
Marty:
I see a party that everyone's left...
Marty:
Oh, wait, I take that back. Not everyone has left...
Marty:
There's one guy still there.
Marty:
It's Ryan Dempster.
Marty:
And Ryan had baked him a cake and everything.
Marty:
Hahhaahhahahahahaha.
Mike:
You know, so many times ovah the years my default position on the Red Sox has been a general sense of foreboding and doomsaying and seeing things in the worst possible light.
Al:
Paht of it I think is that they still hold the division by 2 games.
Al:
And paht of it I think is that the games they lost always seemed to be winnable.
Mike:
They were just out of reach.
Al:
Let me be clear, that clerk acted stupidly.
Doug:
Seriously, if the President had an oldah sistah, and she was fat, that could be her fercrissakes.
Mike:
If Oprah were a citizen of Russia, this wouldn't have happened.
Al:
A rodeo clown once wore a Putin mask, and the bulls neutered themselves.
Mike:
Free content just isn't what it used to be.
Doug:
It makes me sick. Rememebah the old days when bloggahs were actually motivated, when they wanted to be something, to mean something to the world?
Mike:
That world and and the world where fat-shaming kept people's gluttony in check is long gone.
Mike:
Well, don't forget the lack of high speed rail.
Doug:
Look all I want out of life is to be reading, free, frequently updated blog content, surrounded by thin, attractive women all while travelling in a train going 200 miles per hour. It that too fucking much to ask for!?
Mike:
You know there's only one man who can create that kind of world.
Mike:
He wins games he isn't even playing.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
[Update] Thanks so much for all the well wishes for Charlie the dog. He was able to come back home last night. Barium tests showed no sign of foreign object blockage. I have to take him back to the vet this morning for a check and, if things are good, have his IV catheter removed. It is inconclusive as to what caused his symptoms. All's well that ends well, though. Which, by the way, seems to be kind of a theme with this come from behind Red Sox club.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
[Previous] Got home from work yesterday to find a very ill dog. Ended up taking him to the emergency 24/7 hospital where they kept him overnight. Then over to regular vet this morning for more tests and possible surgery. Looks like intestinal blockage. Needless to say, I don't feel much like baseball talk just now.
Mike:
The 4 games that felt like forty with the Royals are finally behind us.
Doug:
Thanks to the losahs of 5 straight and 7 of 9 Tampa Bay Rays.
Susan/Circle:
Mike, you need to realize there's a whole world out there on the othah side of the Berkshires.
Susan/Circle:
No, I'm just fucking with you. There's nothing out there.
Bill:
These days it seems my only worry is that I'm going to get jaded.
Doug:
Well, I don't mean to complain, but these late come from behinds are disrupting my sleep patterns...
Doug:
I mean last night I dreamt I was locked in the Louvre...
Doug:
But being locked in wasn't the problem... see the creepy thing was that every masterpiece in the Louvre had been replaced with a period appropriate painting of a Centaur.
Doug:
There were Gothic centaurs, Renaissance centaurs, Baroque centaurs, Neoclassical centaurs, Impressionist centaurs, Cubic centaurs, Dadaist centaurs, Abstract Expressionist centaurs...hell, there was even an Andy Warhol pop art centaur.
Bill:
Hmmm, very interesting... May I ask if you recognized any of the centaurs.
Doug:
Um, I'd rathah not say.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
I had every intention of a strip this morning but, well, one thing led to another and the next thing you know I'm looking like Lavarnway scurrying after passed balls.
Al:
So if you strike out a three-headed dog, does that immediately end the inning?
Doug:
When you only hit flyballs the entiah game, I'm not sure it mattahs.
Al:
Maybe they were saving it up for tonight?
Mike:
All those who believe in psychokinesis raise my hand.
Mike:
Definitely it's going to make front office leaks to the press a whole lot more efficient.
Bill:
Speaking of efficient, how'd you like Jake Peavey? 65 strikes in 99 pitches?
Mike:
Dude pounds the zone and works quickly.
Bill:
And he works quirky.
Mike:
Gotta love a guy who talks to himself on the mound.
Mike:
I'm glad Peavey's on John Henry's payroll.
Al:
Yeah, like trying to talk about it somehow lessens it.
Doug:
I think Farrell said about all one could say: "In a word, magical."
Mike:
Absolutely. I mean if a unicorn farting rainbows had appeared on the field aftah that it wouldn't have surprised me.
Al:
A unicorn ridden by the Rhubarb Lady.
Doug:
And the unicorn's name is Ditka.
Doug:
And just like that we're back in first...
Mike:
And why do I get the feeling this won't be the last time we uttah something similah ovah the next 2 months?
Doug:
Absolutely. This thing could very well come down to the difference between winning and losing a single a game.
Mike:
Hello, Jake Peavey.
Doug:
I'm cautiously optimistic on the one hand...
