Search

Rockin' the ruff

Pleased to see that my sports predictions continue on in a woeful losing streak! In this case. As expressed in last night's entry, I had thought it would be a rocky night--sailing on choppy waters with but a beclouded moon overhead!--for Boston sports teams. But the Sox won 7-5, the Patriots 43-40. Do I find this encouraging? Well, yes and no. As for the Sox, what this means, I believe, is the series certainly goes six games, and likely seven. Astros won't take all three in Houston. Hope that the NLCS, meanwhile, goes seven, because these two American League teams are going to pound the crap out of each other, and a series like this can take a toll. Going forward. If you get there. The Brewers remind me of the 2007 Rockies. I think that either the Sox or the Astros will roll right over the NL team. Their bout is for the full enchilada/entire marble bag.


I find the Patriots result worrisome. That defense! If the Chiefs had the ball last, they would have won. (I missed the entirety of the Sox game, but was home for the final seven or eight or so minutes of the Patriots.) As for the Red Sox: I was sickened to learn that the fans gave David Price a standing ovation as he left the mound. God we are so weak right now. Even the Fenway faithful have come to believe in the performance trophy. You can stick your performance trophy up your--I was going to make a sounding joke. You don't see many sounding jokes. But I will refrain. I guess that would be seen as gendered. This is a man and woman thing. But Price: 4 2/3, 4 bases on balls, 4 runs, gagged up a 2-0 lead, allowed a 2 run lead, nearly allowed another lead once the Sox had bailed him out. That's an ERA of 7.71. This is what we applaud now? Should I applaud my cock after taking a piss? Hooray, cock. But I don't applaud my cock when I take a piss. I sound a little like Montaigne now. He'd write about this kind of thing. Do you ever wonder what Montaigne looked like? Of course you do not. Still, behold!



I was glad that Mookie Betts performed well. Craig Kimbrel, naturally, was Craig Kimbrel, meaning, if you have a three run lead in the other team's last at-bat, he will, at the very least, give up a run, put a guy on, and have to face the potential tying run. These should be Kimbrel's last games in a Red Sox uniform. They cannot re-sign him. Two of the members of my inner circle texted me scores and updates for both games while I was at the Sinclair in Harvard Square for the Vaccines, for which I was grateful.


How were the Vaccines? They were excellent. The vocals were too low in the mix, but it was high-energy, the band tight. Good drummer. Not the same drummer as the last time they were in Boston. Though they were technically in Cambridge. They are true artists--and entertainers--in a world where there are less than two dozen artists combined in all areas. And for that, they are important. They are a better, more vital band than Radiohead right now. They are a band of human immediacy.


I need something to talk about on the radio tomorrow. What shall I talk about? How about John Lennon's Imagine sessions? Okay. Done and done. I shall alert Kimball! (Who, by the by, is a Red Sox fan, and not a Patriots fan. My good buddy Howard is this way, too. I find this cray, most cray. Or is it crae? Would Montaigne know? No, Montaigne would not know. Piss-cock? No no no. What is it with you and this japery today, sir? He asks himself, in his stress and tiredness.)