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Call in the Bard (the poet not the pitcher)

Sigh. What can I say about the Red Sox that I haven't already said a couple dozen times ovah a couple dozen seasons?


Well you know what they say...


All the world's a ballpahk,


And all the men and women merely fans;


They have their peanuts and crackah jack


And one man in his time sits in many seats...


So I should just be happy that I'm not at the last out of all?


Sans balls, sans bats, sans taste, sans everything.



Talking mortality in May? Two ways out. Get off and walk away, for one, or look on the bright side of life for.. "In the end, the joke is always on you."-Eric Idle

No, focusing on mortality isn't the intent, more the theme I'm going after is "just show up, sometimes it's good, sometimes it isn't."

Well that and the fact that I truly have exhausted every possible thing I can say about the Red Sox.

Anyone who is tired of the Red Sox is tired of life.

...or my favorite-sans pants ;D

hb, "(A)box of chocolates, y'all never know what yer gon' git." That pretty sums up the season to date as far as I can tell.

You humans don't realize the full value of living in the moment.

We don't have nine lives, so there's that.


Hamlet, act 3, scene 3: "Oh, my offense is rank. It smells to heaven. It hath the primal eldest curse upon it."

If all the year were playing holidays; To sport would be as tedious as to work.

Would I were in an Alehouse in London ;)

@lc: or, it ONLY has nine lives, so there's that as well…


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