Play Ball

Cripes, you guys. In the final innings of a high-stakes game some teams will do anything to win. The best hitters have to be ready to protect themselves from the high hard one. Base runners become a little more eager to take out the infielder whose job it is to make the pivot on the turn-two. And forget about the play at the plate. The catcher, who already has the toughest job, has to become more of a defensive tackle or a goalie.

It's like that in elections, too. The guys on the team I'm rooting for are now said to be catering to terrorists, murderers, wife-beaters, drunk drivers, rapists, dope fiends, and other special interest groups. They will end free speech, burn down your churches, and jail The Boy Scouts. Worse yet, these America-hating, closet commies will raise your taxes.

John McCain has followed Nixon's lead by hiring the plumbers to secure his seat in The Oval Office. Apparently John's plumber isn't actually licensed to secure the porcelain oval seat in my own rectangular office.

I have been obsessed by this very exciting game and am a little sorry that it will be over soon. I'm not sure what I will do with myself. I have been listening to it on the radio all day and watching it on TV all night.

I guess, if it stays warm I will have more time for fishing. If it cools off I'll cut firewood and hunt ducks. But cripes, you guys. I really need this thing to end in a rout. If it goes into extra innings (remember 2000?) I'm screwed.