perfidy

Last night in the top of the 8th inning, just after Pedro Martinez had coughed up two runs only to suddenly transform himself into 1999 Pedro throwing unhittable heat for two crucial outs, and just before the Red Sox' lead edged over from "oshitoshitoshitoshit" to "omigodomigodomigod," I had a horrible thought. Right at that moment, somewhere on the Cross Bronx Expressway, angry men were plotting horrible things in a van and fantasizing about postmortem virgins. I was SURE-- POSITIVE-- that some horrible incident-- terrorists-- plane crash-- asteroid-- rough beasts slouching toward Bethlehem moving their slow thighs in agony-- the effing Rapture* (and I'm soooo not a millennial Christian)-- was seconds away. It's the greedy narcissism of the true believing sports fan, yet even knowing that I could not shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong.

But guess what? I was wrong! It's only a game!

Ha. Ha ha. Ha hahaha. Ha, ha ha ha haha, Ha ha ha!

Best line: Matt Lauer on live (national?) feed with the Boston NBC affiliate, yakking about the game. Matt accepts Yankee defeat, Boston anchors accept victory. Just before feed is cut, female anchor holds up a "Boston Red Sox 2004 American League Champions" tee and says, "Hey Matt, we're sending you a shirt!"

Haw!

[wik] *All Red Sox fans know the number of the beast, if you believe in that kind of thing, is actually 3.

The Boston Red Sox just pulled off the greatest comeback in baseball history, defeating the Yankees to win the American League pennant. Just ignore the first three games, and you have a four game sweep. Not so unusual, right? I hope my prediction is wrong. I hope that fate has, for once, something happy in store for the Sox. In the meantime, savor the moment, and treasure the images of sad, sad Yankees.

Plagiarizing senator Joe Biden, (D-Deleware) today said that President Bush is "brain dead." While discussing prescription drug policy quite often sets my blood to boiling, and I have nearly come to blows with those who disagree with my estimate of the damage that socialist health care policy is causing to working class Americans; I have rarely had cause to call my opponents brain dead. I would likely be even more careful about casting such aspersions had I, like the good senator, a long history of passing the ideas of others off as my own.

The Ministry is pleased, nearly to the point of emotional trauma, to announce the first quadrennial "Guess the end of the Election Contest." Unlike previous Ministry contests, which really weren't contests at all, this rainbow actually has a pot of gold at the end. A very small pot, to be sure, but more on that later.

Enter your best guess as to the date that the election will be resolved in the comment section - any date, past or future - and the Ministry's dedicated staff of underpaid Moldavian migrant child laborers will record your entry in a great book, which will be consulted as soon as we are informed that the election has been decided. The person or entity whose guess is closest to the actual date will win a prize. In the event of a tie, each contestant will have to answer an election related trivia question from each participating minister. The person or entity answering the most questions correctly will be deemed the winner. In the event of a further tie, the entrant who submits the most humorous or sexy picture of him/her/themselves will be made winner. All judgments are purely subjective, and the Ministry makes no pretense of objectivity, fairness or even sanity. Any smartass who picks Dec 13, just because that's the date that the Electoral College votes, will be summarily disqualified and subject to ridicule.

As for the prize: the Ministry, at great risk to its personal integrity and reputation, will offer the winner posting rights on the Ministry interweb site for a period of one (1) week. If the winner is a Minister, they will get a sloppy kiss on the cheek from Minister Buckethead's loyal but somewhat dim animal companion Bodhi.

The Ministry demands, for the first time, that you link to this post far and wide, so that the contest will have sufficient participants so as to make it interesting. It is your moral duty, as well as in your own self interest to comply. And the Ministry knows where you live. 

Maureen runs a nifty little interweb doodad that places bloggers in the DC area in their proper location on a map of the DC metro system. Since half of the Ministry team lives here, she was kind enough to add us to her most excellent map. 

Minister Johno's wife might be interested to know that Teresa Heinz doesn't think being a librarian is a real job. I know my stepmom, aunt, and several good friends will also be pleased to hear that all that schooling was for nothing. Perhaps if they had had the foresight to obtain really, really, wealthy parents, they needn't have bothered.

My last Red Sox post (until tomorrow). I promise.

Contains profanity: below the fold (I don't know why I bother).

If you want to know everything you need to know about this year's Red Sox, and why they are still alive to play Game 7, look at this picture of Curt Schilling from last night's game:

.

That red stuff on his right sock in front of the stirrup? That's not dye.

This is not the '26-taxis' teams of the Dan Duquette Era. Our pitching squad does not consist of Pedro and Player To Be Named Later. No, this is the team with the funny hair that makes Manny Ramirez grin, that makes a hero out of a washed-up first baseman, and that seem to be playing because it's a damn fun game.

No matter what happens tonight, it's been a helluva ride. Thanks, guys.

[wik] Special bonus footage for those who never been to Beantown.

Storrow Drive runs along the banks of the Charles River, a tortuously winding six lane nightmare with nearly invisible lane markers. On the westbound side of Storrow headed out of town, there is a particularly nasty reverse (or "S") curve with unmarked lanes that winds under a pedestrian overpass. Some brave soul, in defiance of the repeated efforts of the Mass. Highway Goons, has defaced the sign warning drivers of said curve, repeating his effort whenever the Goons replace the sign, such as was done around the time of the Democratic Invasion (God forbid delegates soak in a little local color!). Alert drivers passing under the overpass who can devote some brainshare which would otherwise be occupied with trying not to die in a mess of twisted metal on Storrow Motor Speedway to taking in scenery, are presented with this cri du coeur from Boston's long-suffering yet waggish soul:

[alsø wik] So check this out... the reason Curt Schilling's ankle was bleeding all last night was because-- no shit-- he had the skin of his ankle sewn to the bone to keep his injured tendon in place. And get this... he's offered to do it again if we make the Series.

I believe the upcoming election will be litigated. Litigated, lawyered, and justicized until we're all half mad. We are going to learn about the election laws of Dullard County, Ohio and Shitheel Township, Florida in ridiculous sleepy detail. Insomniacs might pray for wakefulness again before it's all done.

But when will it all be done?

I'm asking for guesses. Will the election be sufficiently settled by Thanksgiving, say?