Ok, as I begin this it is 9:19 PM and I am sitting on the beach just below Santa Barbara, California. The waves are crashing on the shore 75 yards in front of me and I have at least a pint of below average rum coursing through my veins. Apparently, even in this state I give more shits about the prospects of Angels baseball than three dozen men who get to wear the official uniform every day. Let's see how long it takes me to get through all this. I predict it shall be less time than they took to start waving white flags this weekend.
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