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If at the end of last season somebody had told me that they imagined John Lackey on the mound in late Septembah for the final out of post-season berth clinching complete game aftah flirting with a no-hittah...


I would have said, "Holy shit but that's a potent hahvest of Hindukush, please pass the vaporizah post-haste."


How about if somebody had said that the following night John Lestah would be posed for his 100th career win and that the win would clinch the Division title.


Well, I would have said, somebody please send ovah a couple of comely Eastern European young ladies to help me make a creampie, because obviously I was having some sort of hallucinogenic fantasy trip and I may as well exploit it to its fullest.


How about if you learned that on this very same day in 2006, a 2006 in which Julian Batshit Tavarez was in the rotation in place of your promising rookie pitchah whose season was cut short by cancah, that in his first column since returning from a brain aneurysm, Peter Gammons would predict that Jon Lestah would recovah from cancah and one day join an elite list of 100 game winnahs?


Ah, hang on, I've got a call coming in from some Ekaterina Vodianova, I bettah take this.



What if, at the beginning of the season, somebody told you that the highest win prediction of all the Soxaholix was way too low?

Pass the Dutchie... ;D

I think we need to actually research this. I'll bring the barbeque potato chips

What if somebody predicted that Veet would still be in the news making an ass of himself with stupid comments about 9/11 and the MFY no-shows? Oh wait, everyone would have predicted that.

...and that the road to the WS could involve facing Francona in the alds, the Oakland A soxs in the alcs & then the LA blue sox.

What if I had to go into a meeting and sit there writhing and squirming for two hours?

Have a great weekend all. Hopefully we'll have something fun to yak about on Monday.

Who would have thought that Toronto would have the guy they basically told to take a hike, rather than compel him to stay, be playing his new/ old team with a division title on the line.
Who would have thought that a very vain and overly pompous cat could be so juvenile about going into his Vet box, and giving his Butler a nasty 8" (Measured by the Vet's cute as hell assistant ;0)gash on his arm. Well, I have disinfectant on it and a free bandage, whee! But, as we left a little while ago, he was very, very happy. No issues going back to the box. As he was being handled by the assistant, who is a Jays fan, I won't hold that against her.(I have something I'd like to hold against her, but I am too old, creepy and impoverished to get away with that!) When we got home, later, His Lordship left the box, without trying to kill me. He curled up in his bed and I swear he is happier than a Dodger in the D-Back's pool!

Good Lord!

A cat's Lord is not his master (or butler), but rather the image on the side of cat food cans.

Thank you, Bob. This is a concept the (HA!) Commander fails to grasp.

even though they mathematically clinched, espn standings still list sox today as 99.9 pct sure of making the playoffs... which is probably just reflecting our in-bred anxiety about such things...

Damn this feels good. I give credit to the bus.

Worst to first,baby!! Hey Mahts,munch my wurst-bwahahaha

Something fun to yak about, indeed.

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