Monday, October 04, 2004

Today is a good day (rhetorically) to die!

Johno, your Heimatsmannschaft is at home in Ohio, bombarded by campaign advertising as they stare at their navels. Your love for the Red Sox is just psychic transference: if you are going to embrace six decades of impotence, why not nine?

But, even in defeat, I will have the last laugh. The Angels have been redeemed. For the Red Sox, the road to redemption leads through the Bronx. Honoring the ghost of Ruth or prostrating oneself before Ted Williams' frozen head will not help.


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