Open Letter to Bud Selig: Does baseball need a "Mercy Rule?"

Dear Madam or Sir,

As you know, the quality of mercy is not strained; it doth droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven into -- and out of -- Luis Castillo's glove.

But in your role as keeper of ancient traditions and hairpieces, we ask this:

Should not the gentle rain of mercy be drizzled unto the hapless wayfarers who fall 11 runs behind after four innings, and whose tortured bullpen begins to moan like a braless, blond Christina Ricci chained to a radiator in a backwoods shagpit owned by Samuel L. Jackson?

Or do you find titilating the notion of a braless, blond Christina Ricci chained to a radiator in a backwoods shagpit owned by Samuel L. Jackson? DO YOU?

Well, we at IT IS HIGH certainly don't!

A great man once said, "You cannot predict baseball, I don't care who you are or how smart you are, no one can predict the game, it's a-mayyyzing!" And his words do ring true.

No lead, however large, is ever safe and secure.

And yet... that great man also said that you can be safe and secure, if you trust your finances to the experienced managers of New York Life, with more than 60 years of experience in the field. That's New York Life... the company you keep.

Last night, the Yankees rained 20 runs of abject misery and pain upon 40,000 sad, innocent, tearful, Redsockian dickwads. If not for the mercy shone by our pitching staff, the good people of Boston would have gone home to their empty radiator shagpits with no more than juiced-Papi memories and dreams of Billy Wagner.

Sir... madam... whatever you are beneath that chinchilla-hued helmet of fur... has not the timeth come for you to rain some mercy?