It does feel as though we've been dodging bullets all spring.
Or, in the case of Thairo the Pharaoh, supernaturally absorbing them into his mystically rejuvenated, 5,000-year-old mummified body, now come back to life along with his scarab-and-jackal army.
But I digress. What's with all the cats?
First, they're in the news for killing off that tennis umpire's husband, and now Clint Frazier can't remember their names. I don't like it, I don't like it at all. These little fellas are the devil's familiars, and they are an omen that something wicked this way comes.
Today in the Times, we got a big article on an old rivalry...Man U. and Liverpool.
The Yanks-Mets game was confined to a couple lines of wire service copy, probably because we made the Mets fans cry like little girls.
Soccer 38, Yankees 19.
Traitor Tracker: .233
Last year, same date: .319.
Sunday, March 11, 2018
Those darned cats
Posted by
HoraceClarke66
at
1:13 PM
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