Winter Heat Wave

It's 55 degrees here in the Northeast today - a week after the official start of winter. If global warming continues at this pace, we will not need to plan a retirement in the South, since scientists say we will have the same climate in Boston that is currently enjoyed in Atlanta within a few more years.

It would really annoy me if we had taken a post Christmas vacation to escape the winter blues - and then to read in the morning paper that my $200 a day resort hotel room was only a few degrees warmer than my humble New England abode. Half the fun of a winter vacation is hoping that your friends and neighbors back home are envious that you are enjoying unfettered sunshine while they are freezing their collective butts off back home. I received an e-mail from a friend who was complaining about being bored after only 2 days on a 4 day cruise ship near the Florida keys. She says, "I can't see the difference between a cruise ship and being locked up in the New York Hilton for 4 days sitting at the same table, with the same people at the same time for dinner every night." Poor thing. Her real problem is that she is not food oriented. How can you justify a cruise ship if you aren't interested in eating five times a day! No sympathy from me. Cave-in and hit the midnight buffet!

Anyhow, after several weeks of snow/ice blocked sidewalks, one can now venture forth for an invigorating walk. I need the exercise, lord knows. The continued positive economic news probably means that there will be a lot of opportunities opening up as 2004 rolls out. I have a new suit, I got new socks for Christmas, I'm positive and ... hungry. What's for lunch?

Bad Santa

I didn't get the pony I wanted. Humbug.

Christmas Time is Nigh

This saturday is "guys shopping day". Another traditional annual event where I and 3 of my closest buddies get together early to go shopping for our wives and loved ones. I usually drive, since I am the only one with a car big enough to hold us that is not despoiled by dog hairs on the seats. Four of us (George, Bill, the other Dennis and Me) have been doing this every saturday-before-Christmas for about ten years. We get to the Chestnut Hill Mall (or sometimes the Atrium) before the parking lot becomes too crowded. Then we spend 2 hours trolling the mall with our gift lists.

None of us are typical shoppers - we are dressed like middleaged straight guys - Dockers, Sweatshirt, Baseball Cap, work boots - and so our questions to the perfume counter clerks ("Got anything that doesn't smell like a fart?" or to the sales person at Victoria Secrets "What have you got in a triple X Teddie?") are often met with fear and distrust.

Then, it's over to Newton at our favorite Irish pub for Bloody Mary's. They open at 11 and we are usually their first customers. Sometimes, after a quaff or two we will then stroll across the street to check out the Antique Mall at Echo Bridge. (This is mainly George's influence, he likes to surprise his wife with some antique treasure such as used irish silver fish forks or jewelry that was old when grandma was a girl. I never buy anything, but I am amused and entertained by the sheer variety of old china, crystal and other junk that some people will pay real money to possess. I am firmly a here-and-now person, and I don't think old hunks of junk have any monetary value. I like stainless steel and teflon and battery powered clocks and modern refrigeration. )
Anyhow, we spend an hour or so, looking at the discarded legacy of the ancient world. Then we trundle back to the Pub for beer and burgers. Actually, I am the only one who still drinks more than one beer nowadays - I think the others are on medications that do not agree with alcohol. (George says he is on the Atkins Diet and recently eschews the ambient sugar in alcoholic drinks. He has lost weight. In fact, with his bushy moustache, he looks a lot like a Saddam Hussein.)

After lunch we each go home with our bags of presents, which we hide in the closet until xmas (we get them wrapped at the Mall), and nap on the couch while pretending to watch the NFL game. Somebody noted that since none of us have jobs this year, we don't really need to do it on a saturday. But traditions are traditions, dammit.

A Cold Day in the Hellhole

Man it is freezing here in the shadows of commerce. I'm thankful that technology has actually improved the process of getting unemployment benefits. It would be terrible to be standing out there in breadlines on frigid days like these.

The life of an unemployed job-seeker during a jobless economic recovery is not so bad, but sometimes it gets monotonous. (I am certainly undisturbed by employers answering my inquiries.) Some weeks, I only shave every other day. When I go out, to do chores, such as shopping for groceries, my typical uniform consists of an old gray baseball cap, sweatshirt, kahki dockers and tennis shoes. Everything is clean but a bit wrinkled, including me.

I have noticed that as I have gotten older, female strangers do not look at me the same way they used to. Age has mellowed me both in appearance and attitude. Young girls ignore me like I didn't exist; women in their twenties regard me warily, like I am probably either homeless or a pervert (maybe both); healthy looking thirtysomethings with kids in tow usually smile at me, (apparently thinking I look a lot like grandpa); middle-aged divorcees dressed in work-out togs look at the contents of my cart in the supermarket line, looking for signs of bachelorhood - weighing my paunch against their lonliness. I pretend they do not exist. I am untempted by the scent of desparation.

Today is a typical shopping day. The elderly cashier, seeing that I have a credit card that doesn't get rejected, and that my order does not contain any incontinence items, begins to flirt shamelessly ("You do not look like the plastic type to me. Let us bag your groceries in high quality recyclable paper.") She smiles sweetly at me, and then barks something in Portuguese to the bag boy.

I look at him. He is my age. He concentrates on getting the items in the bags. He looks a lot like a guy I once worked with. He was a COBOL programmer. Hoping for a sign of recognition, I look him in the eye as he hands me the bags, but he just he smiles vapidly. "Have a nice day," he says mechanically. I sit in the van for a full 3 minutes shivering, and not from the cold.

Too Sick To Work

If I had a job, I'd have called in sick today. Since there was no one else to call, I gathered the cats and announced that I would not be going to the office today, due to my nasty flu symptoms. They took the information with their usual nonchalance.

After a cup of coffee while reading the morning paper, I went back to bed. The three Siamese were curled up in a pile, right in the middle of the bed. They appeared truly annoyed when I tried to get some of the covers for myself. I am not looking for sympathy. I know that everyone else is either sick or just getting over something.

I just thought maybe the cats could show a little compassion.

Reasons To Be Thankful

There are some advantages to being unemployed. Yesterday, I went with two of my similarly unoccupied pals to the movies. It was a one oclock showing of Master and Commander. This was a real entertaining swashbuckler with great visual effects and rip-roaring action only a guy would like. From all historical accounts it depicted the realism of life on board a British Navy ship in 1805.

I am profoundly thankful to have been born in modern times - with indoor plumbing, refrigeration, electricity, computers, a distribution system that can deliver single malt scotch to a store nearby.

More than this, I am gratified to realize how damned lucky I have been in this life.
I was an aimless youth who was such a poor student in high school that no decent college would admit me, so I enlisted in the air force. The military made me a grow up, but did not overcome my insubordinate nature. Thanks to my dad's determination, I did go to college and graduated with a degree in Liberal Arts. I was an English major (although on my resume I claim it was English-Journalism because it sounds more practical.)
In creative writing class I met Judy, who (like me) fell in love with my prose. I was immediately captivated by her beauty and charm, and this was the best thing that happened in my life. We dated, evetually married, had two great and beautiful daughters who have grown into wonderful productive adults and have stayed in our lives. After thirty five years we are still together, healthy and in love.

Sure, I have had some crappy jobs, and may again in the future. But I hope I can continue to appreciate the luck that has seen me this far. And I hope that I win the megabucks lottery tonight.

Yes, We can Hear You, now shut that (bleep)ing thing off!

Just returned from a brief visit to the Left coast to check on the Grandkids. The kids are all right.

Ah, California: state of Earthquakes, Fires, Neverland, Laci and Governor Arnold. Coming back to the state where anyone can legally marry anything if they can pass the blood test.
I am cranky as hell. It is not merely jet lag; it's the world gone nuts.
prosecutors want to put that vicious criminal - Martha Stewart - in jail; and the shrinks want to let John Hinkley out to walk around Washington DC free as a crow.
Terrorists and protesters bombing civilians in Turkey and disrupting traffic in Miami and UK. Important events are taking place in the world, yet Michael Jackson dominates the news. Why? I don't care about the antics of freaks. Do you?

Air Travel still sucks. I can report is American Airlines does have more room in coach between rows than United. But you are still crammed-in three across, and there is not enough room for a well-fed man to sit comfortably. American is much less concerned than United with on-time schedules, and it shows. On the way to California, we arrived at a stopover in Chicago on time, but then sat on the tarmac for 40 minutes waiting for a gate to open up. Many people who were connecting missed their flights. The attendant tried to console an upset traveller. "This happens a lot." she said.
I am still irritated that class discrimination is still OK on airlines, and even extends to the security checks. I was selected for personal inspection when my shoes set off the metal detector. The beefy security guard frowned at me like I should know better. "Rockports always set it off," she said. "You should wear sneakers next time."

Predictably, we were treated to the inane wireless conversations of inconsiderate blabbers everywhere we went. At the hotel, during breakfast. In the cabin of the planes. On Fisherman's wharf. Outside the museum. Mercifully, they make people curtail wireless phone calls when the plane is in motion. The new showoff thing is Walkie Talkie feature which involves a lot of beeping and shouting into the receiver. If that isn't enough, now you can hear the moron on the other end as well.

Peter Drucker says, "There is nothing as useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all." I feel this applies to the Walkie Talkie feature on cell phones. Only a few people in specific jobs (eg, construction, EMT's) should have them. Some technology should be withheld from the masses. You wouldn't give a lazer-guided missile launchers to Ubangi tribesmen. Would you?

I'm sure that some people need cell phones. But, their ubiquitousness has introduced a level of interruption and annoyance into our society that I predict a rash of phone-rage incidents in the near future. Judy says it is just my sensory integration disorder acting up. According to her, most people are not disturbed by the inanities of others, and are not possessed by a demonic urge to strangle them.

Someone called back

Begin disturbing image warning=>> I hope this image is not too unsettling to my fans, but I have vowed to tell the whole truth. Young, or easily offended readers should skip to the next paragraph The other day, I was just stepping out of the shower when I heard the phone in the hallway ring. I made it before the fourth ring, and answered in my best business-like voice. It was the callback I had been hoping for earlier that day. (Actually, I had only half-expected the return call. Not returning calls is an epidemic in this junk-call-spam-drenched day-and-age.) Anyhow, there I was standing in front of the hall mirror, naked and dripping on the floor, pretending that I was dry, fully-clothed and an ideal candidate for the job. <<= End of disturbing image warning

It was the recruiter for a local company, responding to a resume I had sent more than a month ago. He had sent me an e-mail, asking me to call if I was still interested in the job. I did call, but got his voice-mail. Typical of recruiters, six hours later he was returning my call. He told me that the company needed a senior business analyst to work with the Product Manager to market and recommend improvements to a flagship software product. I had most of the quals for the job, and I was intrigued by the prospect of getting back into the marketing department, so I managed to BS the recruiter enough to convince him to "present" me to the hiring manager.
He said that they had been having a hard time finding the right person. (Probably because the job description would have been divided among three people in the full-employment days of 1999-2000). These days everyone is expected to be a superhero at apprentice wages. Hey don't get me started, I'm being positive! Anyway, it was a call back.

It was also a milestone in my journey. It is the first opportunity in months that seems worth pursuing. The location is a mere ten minute commute. The compensation is lower than my last job, but near the ballpark. And it's not IT.
Being Not-IT is a good thing. I have always enjoyed my past roles as a systems analyst in the marketing department.
Marketing management is a lot less cost-conscious than those stingy CIO's who think that staying within budget is more important than delivering speed to network users. By contrast, marketing execs are usually focused on sales activity, and I never met one who worried much about the "bottom line".

Stay tuned. We are still a long way from the sure-thing stage. But I was encouraged that someone called back. To me that is a 100% increase in activity.

Can you Hear me Now?

We decided to give Herbs and Spices - the new Asian restaurant in Lower Falls - another chance. It was a Wednesday night and not crowded, which perhaps resulted in a fairly attentive waiter. I still could not understand anything he said, due to a difference in our native spoken languages, so if he had greeted us with the "Hi I'm Lee Hong, I'll be your server tonight." we were blissfully spared the comprehension of same. Despite my fears, our order was correctly taken and served in due time.

The food was pretty good. We shared a variety of appetizer and main dishes. We had a nice time.

As we were waiting for the check, a thirty-ish couple was seated in the next booth. Totally ignoring his attractive dining companion, the boorish fellow was yakking loudly on his cell phone. It was a pathetic call, with him apologizing to someone who outranked him for not returning their call. His voice was laden with fear and lying. I almost felt sorry for him, but as is our habit, we began to chastise him so he could hear us.
His companion was terribly embarrassed, to have her date being laughed at by the next booth while he pathetically groped for credibility over the airwaves to some bigshot who clearly knew he was lying.
It was son-in-law David who came up with the solution to such ear pollution. "Why don't these places have a Cell Phone Booth?"
What a genius idea! All public places should have at least one. A simple rectangular booth with nothing in it but soundproof walls and a shelf. Wireless talkers could go and stand in the booth and not bother the rest of us. I can see them at the Bus Stop, Train Station, Theater Lobby, Supermarket - anywhere where people gather. Instead of assaulting the rest of us with your inane conversations, you can go to the Wireless Area stand in your booth and blather to your heart's content.
I smell a business opportunity! Who wants in on the groundfloor?

Momma Told Me

As a child growing up in hardscrabble Watertown, Ma, my sainted mother would often repeat her wise observation "If it looks too good to be true...it probably is." Such cynicism is one of the most useful tools in the Parental Toolbox. This wisdom has served me well. As an adult I grew to be a skeptic, a cynic and a hopeful pessimist. (The opposite of a hopeless optimist).

I don't expect everything to fail, but I am hardly ever surprised when it does. My career value proposition has been established on the fundamental premise that in a business enterprise, Crap Happens, but if you have me on your payroll there will be less crap and it won't be as messy.

Because I expect problems, I am a pretty good planner. Because I know people are unwilling or unable to communicate with each other, I over-communicate. I specify requirements, establish test plans, talk with people. Early on, I understood the different languages of business. Engineers don't like to talk to Marketing Managers. Finance people abhor Sales Reps. Programmers cannot stand the vagaries of Users. Big Shot executives don't understand ground level workers. No one can understand the cafeteria staff (but, come to think of it, that is actually because they speak Portuguese. Another topic for another rant, perhaps?). Anyway, the only thing I really do is coordinate stuff between people who don't communicate with each other.

But, despite my chronic cynicism and pessimism, I am confident that the economy will recover. It always does. And there will soon be a recognition that my niche skills will become valuable again. Like those raggedy 401k accounts that have been beaten to a pulp for the past three years, improvement is palpable.

So, to be ahead of the curve, I spent a few hours this morning, searching for opportunity. Perhaps, one might even say, searching for my destiny.... Well, the trip back to earth was short and ended with a thud. Nada, zilch, zero, ciphers. I almost clicked on a banner ad offering retraining as a cafeteria worker (Learn Portuguese in six days!)
Then, I saw something that looked interesting: Opinionsonline.com was offering hourly rates from $15 to $110 to simply take a brief survey or participate in a focus group. Wow. This seems like easy money. I could use a few extra bucks. I got some spare time. I got a computer. Lord knows, I got opinions up the wazou!
So I check it out. Hmmn. One small detail. This company is not exactly the survey company that hires you. They put the "applicant" into a database of people who might be picked to participate in such surveys and focus groups. The small detail is, they charge you $14.95 to get into the database. Aw crap! They were masquerading as a job listing and they are actually marketing their freaking database. I find this type of "stealth marketing" to be unethical and deceptive. More deceptively evil than ordinary marketing. It justifies all my cynicism and pessimism. And skepticism. Focus on this, you stealth marketers! (Raises middle finger in angry salute)

That's when momma's sage words echoed. And so I shut off the computer. And then I got out my roller and ladder. After lunch, I will spend a productive afternoon painting the ceiling in the TV room. Then, I'll tune-in to Oprah for my daily emotional fix.

Told You So

Yesterday, the Government announced that the economy is growing again. In fact the rate of growth was so dramatic (over 7%) that today's conservative pundits are declaring the winner of the 2004 Presidential Election to be George Bush. The Democratic candidates have been praying for a continued slump to fuel the popular desire for a change of leadership. Poor shmucks.

What it means to me is this: I need to get a new suit. Before you know it, the phone will start to ring with job offers and business opportunities. I want to be ready.

Judy has been a perfect saint through the summer, and even bought me some beer last week. She is a true prize, and I am not just saying this because she has demanded that I say something nice about her. I am saying it because it's true.

I think I can wait until next week to get the suit. It's 60 degrees out, and someone should be sitting in the back yard admiring the foliage, accepting the Gift of this day.

Harmful Mistakes

I read a report in the Globe today that cited the alarming increase in harmful mistakes in hospitals. They define these mistakes as routine problems like overdosing patients or surgical mishaps that actually injure or kill a patient. The most recent numbers in Massachusetts are 757 incidents this year compared to 574 incidents in 2000.

A hospital spokesperson attempted to clarify the meaning of the numbers. "It isn't really an increase in incidents," explained the spokesperson, "it really indicitive of improved reporting."
Whew! That's a relief.

Looking at the top ten employers on the Boston area with the most job openings, it is perhaps relevent that 8 of the ten are area hospitals and medical facilities. It is clear that anyone who gets sick around here should stay out of the hospitals if at all possible.

I would consider re-training for a job in the medical profession, except for the fact that I despise sick people, abhor bodily fluids, and the hours suck.

Nasty Weather Non-Fan

It's cold and raw here in the Western Suburbs of Boston.

I am sitting here today wishing I was a Marlins fan. The Boston team was knocked out of the running by the New York team in the playoffs. I admit that at first, it bothered my that "my" team lost. Then, I realized that there was no reason to allow it to affect my day.

Why should I give a sweet shit what the Boston Red Sox do? They really have nothing to do with me. And hardly anything to do with Boston, other than the fact that members of the team and some owners are temporary residents of Our Fair City. Grady Little, the (almost former) Manager hails from the cotton fields of Alabama or is it North Carolina? Who cares? Most of the player names are unfamiliar to me. Few of them were actually raised in New England, much less Boston. Next year many of them will be someplace else.

The Boston Red Sox is just another entertainment Company. The players are just employees. There is no loyalty anywhere in this business. Popular players are traded off like coeds at a frat party. Management and coaches are fired, retired or replaced at the drop of a hat. Whining overpaid prima donnas even go on strike every few years, because of the terrible oppression by league managers.

Fans are just poor saps who have more cash than good sense, who layout big bucks to watch these professionals working. And buy their "gear." Would anyone buy a picture of me looking words up in my Thesaurus?

And, What the heck does the success or failure of a company have to do with my happiness or well being? If the new Walt Disney movie flops, do I lose sleep or beat my breast in anguish? Well, I suppose if I owned stock in the company, I could care. But I don't and I don't.

All this crap about the bambino's curse is laughable. Grady Little didn't lose the game by leaving Pedro in too long in the eight inning. New York won the game in the eleventh inning. The freaking players lost the game! Fire them and bring in some players who can win in the clutch!

Anyhow, I just saw a news clip of the World Series Champion Marlins on TV. They were returning to Ft Lauderdale, coming home to their adoring fans, dressed in short sleeves, wearing sunglasses. It's cold and rainy here in Boston. I want to live in Ft Lauderdale and be a Marlins fan.

I read Joe Lieberman's position paper in the WSJ this morning. He wants to raise taxes on 2% of the voters - people earning more than $200,000 per year. As if that will solve our economic problems. It is deceiving math. In the misguided liberal zeal for wealth distribution, the results are to move money from the really rich to near-rich. We all know that the super-rich will do anything to avoid paying taxes to the government, even if it means spending huge sums of money on high-priced lawyers and accountants to find loopholes. Maybe we should just agree to cut everyone's taxes for two years and see if it works? My belief is that the rich will spend the money on stuff - which creates jobs for those of us who are not accountants and lawyers.

There was a photo of Mike Tyson at a basketball game holding up a "Free Kobe" sign. If I was Kobe, I would request Tyson to cease and desist. Cripes, the only worse thing would be to have Bill Clinton vouching for his character: "He never had sex with that teen whore."

Still Searching for My Destiny

For some incomprehensible reason, the vast American employment machine has been unresponsive to my vigorous inquiries. I have networked extensively, posted my resume on literally several job boards, perused the help wanted ads in the sunday globe, and sat thoughtfully for hours in the back yard with a chilled beer and a self improvement book. (On many an occasion, I have lapsed into a self actualizing nap, dreaming, no doubt, of my next assignment as Commander).

But none of these activities has resulted in even a single interview, much less a job offer. Ok, maybe having lunch with the same people repeatedly does not qualify as "extensive" networking. And posting a resume on job boards seems to result in an increase in spam e-mails (especially multi-level-marketing opportunities and penis enlargement products.)

OK, maybe some of the prospective employers - who might yearn to have an aging, insubordinate, "no limits" fat guy on their staff - are put-off by my demands for exhorbitant compensation, superior benefits, and an attractive, buxom secretary.

But, should I "settle" for an inferior situation? I think not.

Close Call

Ok, I stayed up until 12:23 and watched the whole game. It was exciting, and the Sox were most certainly "in there", until they lost in the 11th inning. So, while I was not really hoping for a Red Sox loss, it does let me off the hook regarding the vow to apply for a holiday job in retail if they beat New York.

I feel sorry for the real fans who watched them all year long. And the idiots who got swept up in the fever at the end of the season. And the Bozo's who hocked grandma's silver to get the money to purchase playoff or world series tickets on E-bay. But the outcome was never in doubt. Those of us who have watched them for many years knew...not to believe.

Rather than dump on the manager who left Pedro in the game too long, or blaming the fielding errors, I am content to recall that we got some post season excitement, and a great effort from a bunch of overpaid, whining, disapponting losers.

In one sense things are much better. Now we can get back to watching football without the distraction of those futile hopes of victory.

My New Job

Ha ha I was just kidding. The past week has been well spent thinking about how nice it would be to win the Megabucks lottery. Unlike some unworthy souls, I would make a great millionaire. I would share a lot of it with other people and buy a big house near the beach. If that doesn't qualify me as a deserving person, I don't know what would.

The red sox just won game 6, so the agony will go on for at least one more game. I hope they lose, so I will not have to honor my vow to apply for a holiday retail job. On the other hand....

Fairweather Fan

Ok,Ok.
I have been besieged by fans of this blog to admit that I was wrong about the Red Sox. Ok, I admit it: I was wrong. They cowboyed up and won three games in a row. Are you happy now? I am glad to be wrong. And I also lied about not watching the games. I did watch them. (But I did not watch any pregame shows. Does anyone?)

I hate to rain on your little parades out there, but anyone who believes that the Sox will beat the Yankees is counting on freakish luck. They just squeaked by these Oakland guys and NY has been in first place all year. (If the Sox win the ALCS, I will apply for a holiday job in Retail as my penance. (Will you be using your Sears Card for that tummy-hiding girdle madam? )

I saw on the news last night that tickets to the ALCS games at Fenway are priced from several hundred dollars to as much as $5,000. What kind of moron would spend that kind of money to sit in seats that are too small, munching a $5.00 hot dog and gulping a watered down, overpriced beer. A "priceless" experience? I think not.

In contrast, I will watch the games for free. Parking $0. Distance to Bathroom from my seat: 20ft. Lines: 0 Food: Unlimited and reasonably priced. Beer: ditto.
Annoying fans sitting next to me: 2 (cats, wanting attention).
Somebody tell me, What am I missing? You want fries with that? (just practicing).

More Jobs Lost to Wild Animal Attacks

Last week it was an escaped Gorilla in Boston sending an otherwise calm city into abject panic. And there were bear sightings in the western hills. A cougar on the loose in the Northern suburbs.

Now we have 260 odd people thrown out of work when Siegfried's partner Roy was mauled by a white Bengal Tiger onstage in Las Vegas. It was the event that people had been waiting for since the act started at the Mirage in 1990. But that is little comfort to the hundreds of people who are losing their jobs. What jobs? How can it take 260 people to feed a couple of tigers and empty some (large) litter boxes? These are mysteries which we want explained.

How many more must lose jobs before we stop the madness?

Fluke

Ok, the Red Sox won two games - both by a single run. No way they will win tonight in Oakland even with Pedro pitching. They can't get hits.

Don't even watch. I'm going to watch Reno 911 re-runs on the comedy channel.

Go Pats!

Killing Frost

In anticipation of the first frost which was forecast last night, I spent a few hours yesterday, dismantling the tomato vines, picking off any fruits that looked tennis ball size or bigger. I have about ten pounds of greenies. These will be stored in a cool place wrapped in newspapers and allowed to ripen naturaly at their own pace. With any luck I will still have delicious ripe tomatoes for my salads until thanksgiving. The vines which have been so kind to me this season were mercilessly chopped-up and put onto the compost pile. Recycle Gold for next year.

When I got up this morning it was clear that it did not get cold enough last night to kill the annuals. Another case of weathermen trying to capture the attention of viewers by playing up the disastrous possibilities? Well, no matter. I got something done!

The only thing that died last night was the lingering hope that the Red Sox would indeed show up to play the Oaklands in game two. I am not surprised. They always choke; and it is good that they get it over quickly. The plausabilty of them winning the next three in a row is about as likely as Rush Limbaugh saying something nice about Ted Kennedy.
I refuse to watch any more games until the World Series starts. Not that it matters.