Thanks for the memories

There really aren't words to describe my feelings regarding the end of baseball in Chicago this year. Actually, there are, I just don't feel like thinking of them. Let's just say it's a big cluster-f*** of disappointment, anger, disbelief, apathy, merciless animosity, an unrelenting desire for revenge, venomous disdain, and an oppressive sense of despondency.

That's pretty much how I looked after 3 botched ground balls in the same inning in game 2. As far as games 1 and 3-no comments are necessary. Ask this guy what he thought of Dempster's pitching and Ramirez's disappearing act.

I feel you buddy. Actually, I don't. I've only been dealing with these jokers for 29 years. You've been subject to their ineptitude for damn near 112.

Is it too much to ask highly paid professionals to field routine ground balls and get a couple of timely hits? Other teams' players do it all the time. Maybe that damn goat did curse us.

Or maybe it was something or someone far more sinister.

Nah. We just employ losers. Simple and plain. And I hope all of you are ashamed of yourselves as you sit in your penthouses and mansions, drinking expensive booze while scantily clad Brazilian models traipse around doing the finest Coke off of your baseball bats. Maybe that doesn't happen (it should), regardless, Ramirez, Lee, Soriano, Dempster, and even Sweet Lou are no longer welcome to read this blog. Please delete my link from your favorites folder.