After considering a post on "Rocket goes to Washington" I decided against it. I mean, what more can be said? One of these two morons is lying through their teeth and the other is a scuzzbag of the highest order.
Clemens threw, in no particular order, his dead Mom, wife, trainer, agent, Pettitte, and I'm pretty sure his middle school baseball coach under the proverbial bus today. All the while MacNamee comes across as a combination of Joe Pesci's character in "Casino" and every deadbeat dink who's ever wore a wifebeater and smacked his kids around. They could both be on the losing end of a southbound bus for all I care. Josh Beckett is in Florida, Daisuke is sporting a mullet, and Manny apparently is intent on arriving at Spring Training doing his best impression of Rambo.
That bandage on Rakes' head is a result of him meeting the business end of a solid wood table in our living room; yes, the table won. But only briefly, as he cried for about 2 minutes, then wanted to know when he could play Star Wars.
As I carried him up the stairs to bed tonight, he politely informed me he'd burped; 5 seconds later he whispered "Me tooted, Dad. You smell it yet?"
After an afternoon of listening to frustrated nerds grill an overpaid gasbag and a wannabe fitness trainer, somehow Rakes knew the exact words that would make me laugh like Beavis and Butthead watching a Winger video.
Almost like a miracle, pitchers and catchers report tomorrow.
Finally, I can get on with my life.
Such as it is.
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