Post Viral Musings

I don't know about you but I am pretty sure I didn't grow up clinging desperately to the trade deadline as the highlight of the season. It's not like I was all that intuitive and wise either. I once spent 2 and 1/2 hours at a Rare Earth concert listening to them butcher their ridiculous 5 song set. There is just so many times a band can go to the 15 minute drum solo well but the guys apparently didn't get the memo. I am vaguely certain that I was experiencing some sort of altered reality at the time but even that couldn't steel me sufficiently for such horror. Of course, it wasn't as bad as the Jan Hammer Group at a Day on the Green, but what could be?

Speaking of classic rock, I am guessing middle aged, northeast coaster Sabean has a lot of J. Geils on his I-pod. If he has a Matt Morris for a bag of three day old donuts trade in him, it would certainly blow my face out. I could forgive Bochy's Carpenters collection if he would actually let someone who wasn't alive when the Four Seasons were topping the charts play. You just know that Mags has an Air Supply poster on a wall in his house somewhere.

I am sorry for the grievous break in the action here but the staff has simply been flummoxed by the Trojan Vundo of Satan that has toyed with us relentlessly the last few days. Sure, I like the penis enhancement pop ups, they are always informative, but the 10 thousand other daily spam reminders are taxing the mainframe aplenty. Hopefully, the tech staff has this thing ironed out but every time I go down to the dark cellar where I keep them chained to their servers, I smell reefer and Rare Earth is on full blast. Technology is great right up to the moment it isn't.