He stood shivering on the corner in a drenched trench coat staring at his brogues. 

She was garbed in heliotrope avoiding the puddles.

Making her way to him, she paused to think about last year's wine and cheese tasting. 

He remembered that he loved her. 

The rain began again.

She hurried to the corner all the while forgetting her wine; and cheese.

He looked up to see her approaching; he pretended not to see her.

She stopped at the corner.

"Your trench coat is soaked," she says. "And you're shivering."

"Yes, I know.  I've been in the rain."

"Perhaps you should get out of the rain."


"May I ask why?"

"Because you wouldn't be there."


Harbinger of Misery: Baseball is a Cruel, Cruel Bint

Expansion season, you ask?  Why no, my dear, that is most certainly not the case.
A mentally incapacitated manager, thereby rendering Mittens Tuberculosis -- his most favorite-ist cat-- writing the opening day lineup, you inquire?  Nope.  Sorry, squirt, you're rather mistaken.

Then how, you wail to the heavens above, could anyone trot out what could only be considered a stream of consciousness lineup for a professional game?

No idea.  But here's the poop-pudding in your lunchbox:

E Young30100000.94.060
J Peterson21100001.01.019
N Markakis20101001.17.061
F Freeman20100000.90.015
C Bethancourt20000001.25-.049
K Johnson20000001.14-.060
A Callaspo20000000.88-.043
A Simmons20000000.61-.030
J Teheran20000000.70-.035


*Lineup courtesy of FANGRAPHS