We're going to take the kids trick or treating, roast pumpkin seeds and enjoy All Hallows Eve to the hilt. Have a fun Halloween yourselves!
God help us, RefrainHere's the actual book of Hosea. Synopsis for cradle Catholics: God commissions the Prophet Hosea to call out Israel as the ho she is, a sleazy wearer of push-up bras for Ba'al. No, I'm really not exaggerating. Very specific, explicit threats of judgment for this rotten behavior follow. How in the name of the Almighty the lyricist distilled the above out of the text of Hosea is an even greater mystery than the Trinity. Imagine a prophet of Israel actually trying to call the Chosen People to repentance using the lyrics. He'd be the guy after the Michael Palin in the prophet's row scene in Life of Brian.
Why are they 5-2? The defense has been, two glaring exceptions aside, much better than anticipated. The offense is (sorry Kev and other fantasy leaguers) getting some balance, with the reemergence of Kevin Jones as a feature back. Perhaps most importantly, the cancerous lockerroom has gotten a dose of Marinelli chemo, with the purging of discontented talent. Tatum Bell is the most recent example, having been relegated to inactive status after complaining about Jones getting "his" carries.
Is this team good? Depends on what your definition of "good" is. Ultimately, no, it's not good. Not in the sense of being a legit playoff vehicle. But it is much smarter, more energetic, more cohesive and flat out unembarrassing to watch than anything we've seen since the Gary Moeller Era. I'll take it.
Attention, dumbass: this is not an appropriate Halloween costume for your child. Not on this earth, nor even on the planet where your otherwise useless hatstand frequently dwells. This is really not that difficult: never dress up your children as streetwalkers.
Children? Yes, nota bene: this is marketed by the soulless corporate shitsacks at MGA as a "child costume." Nothing quite like making sure the Raincoat Crowd has an endless masturbatory buffet, I suppose. And yet we're still shocked by the latest Dateline NBC perv sting rustling up rapists rootin' and a'tootin' to get their jollies off preteen girls.
If you'd seriously consider getting your daughter this costume, you're a lousy parent. I'd like to give you credit and say you've been brainwashed by cultural decay, but you can't have a whole lot to wash now, can you?
Do the rest of us a favor by not proving it beyond all doubt by completing the purchase.
Our "first kiss," outside Bruske Hall at the 1995 Alma College homecoming. My fraternity was grilling that day. Despite my expression, I didn't think she was icky.
Posing before the Spirit of Detroit, June 6, 1997 (the day the Wings completed their sweep of the Flyers and won the Cup). Yeah, she's a good one--she indulges my sports obsessions quite nicely. Sometimes, she even shares them.
Thank you, sweetheart, for eight years, each one better than the last.
Best bud and Sox fanatic Bryan pointed this one out. Admit it, Sox fans--Papelbon does remind you of the post blanket party Private Pyle.
[H/t to Marse Shawn for the find.]
Good job, Cleveland. [H/t to AP for the song lyrics.]
That takes care of my cheering for the Indians for the decade. Here's a little somethin' somethin' for the ride home:
Yet another in the pile of games to thrash the children in. And, of course, eventually be thrashed. But I'm slowly advancing them up the line. They like Dungeon, where they get to smite monsters for treasure (The Boy™ actually beat all of us in the last game we played, and Maddie came close to winning), but Imperium is a little abstract. Plus, I have to teach the lad that a paper football is not a shuriken.
By the way, I found a case of HB at Costco. Almost as good as I remember it. Like bottled Bavarian joy and sunshine.
My Uncle Robert took a sudden turn for the worse, is unconscious and has been placed in hospice, all in the space of a few hours. My Mom'...