You go right ahead
and believe what Father Tim
has to tell you. You go right ahead
and think that Yoda can somehow break your wretched curse.
I probably will not be posting again until after game time. It's Tuesday, which means three hours and ten dollars worth of gas are depleted as I drive my kids back and forth to their respective religion classes.
I'm instructing them to ask the classes to engage in a group prayer for the Yankees tonight. I've also instructed Natalie to steal some holy water so I can sprinkle it on my father's Red Sox cap. What, is that wrong?
Anyhow, have something stronger than Yoda and stronger than Sister Maria's prayer circle (I heard God is an Angels fan, anyhow). I have my voodoo. And my voodoo has not failed me yet. How do you think we beat you last year? Here's the special little guy that helped bring joy to Yankeeville last October 16th:
You may think it's looks benign and cuddly, but underneath that stuffed doll veneer lies an evil so deep, so expansive and so powerful that it would make Satan himself crumble - if Satan were not owner of the Yankees, that is.
Flaming Voodoo Time. Fear it.
Now, do any of you Soxaholics want to wager on this series? The wagering has to be creative - no money involved. And none of that other stuff, either, you pig.
P.S. Ken Summers
has been named Public Enemy Number One
by this blog.