In a post last year, relieved that Red Sox hysteria was avoided again for another year, I wrote the following haiku:
To All Red Sox Fans:
Come back in eighty-four years.
Signed, Boston Red Sox.
About two weeks ago, with the current fever in swing, I wrote this one:
Dear Boston Red Sox:
You win, we'll fuck up this town.
Signed, all the Red Sox fans.
Now it's game seven, and as of this writing, it's still unclear whether the fever will continue or everyone will be extremely disappointed. Whatever happens, I can do nothing but ask the mob for mercy.
All I'm saying to you dedicated types is, before you start rampaging out of rage or joy tonight, or possibly later, please remember the name Victoria E. Snelgrove.
To All Red Sox Fans:
Come back in eighty-four years.
Signed, Boston Red Sox.
About two weeks ago, with the current fever in swing, I wrote this one:
Dear Boston Red Sox:
You win, we'll fuck up this town.
Signed, all the Red Sox fans.
Now it's game seven, and as of this writing, it's still unclear whether the fever will continue or everyone will be extremely disappointed. Whatever happens, I can do nothing but ask the mob for mercy.
All I'm saying to you dedicated types is, before you start rampaging out of rage or joy tonight, or possibly later, please remember the name Victoria E. Snelgrove.
And try not to act like such morons.
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