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.
Sunday, March 11, 2018
Those darned cats
Posted by
HoraceClarke66
at
1:13 PM
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