Dickie Cronkite
Someone who has more "theme park experience."


Pick your poison.
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The first sign of The Apocalypse arrived this weekend, courtesy of interleague play. Yankees versus San Francisco. This hasn't happened in decades.

Boozemyer put it best on a voicemail last night. "I don't know what to do. I don't know who to pick. Just watching both teams makes me angry." He considered, like me, tipping his hat to the Yanks since they're not in the Dodgers' division, "but then that's like supporting Satan."

What the hell do you do in this situation? Is this even possible by the laws of physics? I think a tear in the universe's space-time continuum just appeared over second base in McCovey Cove, threatening to suck us all into a cold, unforgiving vacuum of oblivion.

I could ponder this all day. One of these ultimate villains, representing all that is wrong in sports, is guaranteed to lose - but one's guaranteed to win too. So is this series a positive or a negative? Neither? A headache?

You know what, this is just too disturbing - it feels like the Island of Dr. Moreau or something. I'm going to the post office and pretending this never happened.


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