Sunday, October 23, 2005


To cheer or not to cheer,
That is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the main to suffer
Slings and arrows of trashing the Richland clan
And raise up arms in hailing well placed hits of White Sox wallops,
Or lie, to lull these erstwhile future Houston kin
Thus end the shocks before they come
While Bayou City lays its seige to Lakeside Town.
Tis consumation devoutly to be wished.
To lie, perchance to sleep
While battles rage on bloodless diamond,
For in that sleep all strife may die
Till Astros shuffle off to Houston town.
It gives me pause while choice eludes,
Forestalls calamity to come
Should Loriland do raise her wrath to shake the gods
From their Houstonian peaks.
For who would not bear the cracks,
Both wise and ill, the scorns of feasts to come,
Proud Randolph's contumely,
Whilst vengeful Universe, biding time till hurling 'pon
My bowed head bolts envied by Hephestus' forge
But that the dread of storm
After last pitch doth pass the plate called home,
The undiscovered country from whose exile
This 'lorn traveller, would-be Texan,
Evermore shall be exiled, puzzling the Fates
That spun and measured, then quick cut,
His Yea to Guillen's flag unfurled, the Sox of White,
And not the Bayou Terrors laying siege
To walls of land they call Chitown.
Tis conscience or mayhaps the fool,
This ego that makes us cowards, one and all,
And thus this Chitown fool
Doth gird his feckless loins in such wise guise
For love of Loriland, his Queen,
Forswearing fealty to Sox of White.
These enterprises of great pith and moment
This Series men call World.
A traitor to my Liege Lord Guillen,
Blessed still, yes, fortunate,
Nay willfully I scorn the fate
That doth bestow 'pon kings their state
For none can claim where I do stand,
For I lay claim, nay boast my fate,
Most happy slave to Loriland.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

Wash the Socks!

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