Could this possibly be a less talked about match up this week?
Yes, I understand that the Red Sox did something so super duper incredible over the last eight days that we should all be in awe of the curse and the Babe, the Yank-me’s outstanding debacle, the new Murderer’s Row, and forget that we have jobs and teams of our own to root for.
Yes, I understand that the local newscasters have been slightly more than preoccupied with the new Doppler 1.2 Trillion Radar that they just had installed this July to measure to the hundred thousandth of an inch the torrential rainfall that they are predicting (read: hoping) will wreak havoc in Mission Valley this winter. “Oh, there is a cloud. According to Doppler 1.2 Trillion, we should see 17/81sts of an inch of rain the second Tuesday of the next lunar cycle. If everything goes well hundreds of hummingbirds will be tragically displaced and if we are extraordinarily lucky, someone might get stuck in their car in a parking lot in Fashion Valley. Oh boy!!!”
No talk about the Bolts, “Hoss”, Version 2.0, The Antonio, the status of the ticket sales, the blackout. Nothing. So I guess it is up to the only two morons in San Diego who care nothing about rainfall totals and hummingbirds. We got nothing better to do anyway.
If you thought last week was the “Trap Game” think again. This one has disaster written all over it like a kid passed out in a room full of drunks with a 100 pack of brand new Sharpie’s and T.O. leading the parade. "Vodka" Collins a.k.a "Tom" at the helm vs. “The Skipper”. How do you measure that match up? You know “Tom” is due, he did lead a mediocre Giants team to a Big Bowl game you know. To say that I am a bit worried about the Raiders on Halloween is an understatement.
As my colleague stated, I don’t really have the luck truck backed up in front of my place if you know what I’m sayin’. I would be lucky to get out of this one with an electron burn on the retinas from sitting to close to the t.v. I would rather have Edward Scissorhands give me a prostate exam than to have to sit in the same Parking Trap as the cross dressing opposition. I would rather be tied to the chair of a Hyundai with barbed wire while getting doused with rubbing alcohol on a road trip to Phoenix in July with no air conditioning and “The Postal Service” playing an acoustic set in the backseat. I just dry heaved thinking about it.
Quick Hits tomorrow… By the way, I kill hummingbirds for fun.