To put it mildly.  Where to begin?  I could post about seven thousand links–but, I will be merciful, and keep myself to one two three four.

First

Second

Third

Fourth

And maybe I lied, because here’s one more, about The Guy Who Was My Favorite All Year Long.  Please sign him immediately, Theo.  And stay away from The Creepy One.  Please. 

Okay.  Deep breath.  (and, oddly enough, I am going to have so much more free time between now and next April.  Or, actually, until pitchers and catchers report in February.  What will I do with myself?  Oh. Right.  Work.)  I will also feel much less emotional turmoil–although, after tonight, I don’t think Red Sox fans are allowed to complain anymore.  Ever.  We still will, of course, because it’s our nature–but, we really shouldn’t. 

Well, okay, just one more.  Because I am weak. 

And in other news, this was pretty excellent, too.

Moving on now.  The end of the baseball season means that I will spend the next few months obsessing about politics.  For a change.  I’m starting to get the very strong sense that Obama is toast.  Part of me is disappointed, because I really wanted to fall in love with the guy as a candidate, but from the very beginning, it has always seemed as though he’s only running because he thinks he can maybe win the nomination–not because he wants to be the President. 

And we have someone who wants to be the President, and is actually prepared to do the job.  In the best of all possible worlds, I’d like the campaign to be joyful, but after the grim, glum nightmare of the current Administration, I think I’d be quite happy with calm, cool, collected competence.  There’s actually a lot of food for thought in this article, although it’s not exactly cheery.  I’ll back her all the way, though–especially since I think the prospect of Rudy in the White House is absolutely terrifying.

I’m not sure I recommend this novel, but I’m not too proud to admit that I am currently reading it and am reasonably entertained.  However, as soon as this Gerald Ford book is released, I’m going to grab it.

Starting tomorrow, I think I need to begin doing this and this.  Although I do not enjoy exercise for the sake of exercise–predictably, I only enjoy sports activites–it will be a pleasure.

I’m not weeping–but, I’m not singing.  However, if they aren’t going to play well, what can you do?  So be it.  And since my family is a Pure Red Sox family, we have none of this foolishness.  Luckily.

While–as a human being–I feel sorry for this man, if he comes into the game tonight, I’m turning off the television.  Life is much too short to witness horrible sights.  Although I won’t go so far as to say I shouldn’t waste my beautiful mind on such things. 

And Manny is maybe not very bright, either.

But, the team has lots of good young players, the farm system is loaded–if you haven’t already, wait until you see this kid play!–and they have a chance to be extremely competitive for years to come.  Ergo, it’s all good.

And the Patriots are fabulous, so no self-respecting New Englander can really complain.  We’ve had an excellent ride for the past few years.  I hope the ride continues after tonight, but if it doesn’t, que sera, sera.

A testosterone thriller with a female main character is more fun than one with a cliched male lead.

i would like the Red Sox to win tonight, obviously–but, I can’t help wishing even harder for some semblance of world peace, given the terrible attack in Pakistan today.  

But, our Commander in Chief is still relevant.  Whew.

You really need to win the first game of a playoff series, especially at home.  So, it is an excellent start.

Speaking of fine beginnings, words fail me insofar as the Other Delightful New England Team is concerned.  The first four games of the season have been simply awesome.

I have been very tired lately–strangely enough, it is not as easy to work all night, and function normally the next day as it once was–and I am ashamed to admit that I have been reading what I think of as “Testosterone Thrillers.”  There are several requirements for this kind of book.  For one thing, there are lots of weapons, endlessly and lovingly detailed to the degree that even Freud would be very, very frightened.  I do not care for violence in any way, shape, or form–but, if this is so, why do I love Hawk?  (Actually, even when he is going through the motions, I think Robert Parker is much too fine a writer to be sledge-hammered into the testosterone thriller category–and I may devote an entire post to him someday soon.)

Anyway, I am pretty sure that authors of testosterone thrillers do all of their research on sites like this.  Their main characters invariably–and hilariously–almost always work for multiple secret government agencies, and are invulnerable in the extreme.  When they get shot, for example, which happens on a regular basis, they find it–a trifle annoying.  The authors’ notes are full of thank yous to people who really ought to be a little more circumspect about how much sensitive information they reveal to writers who are going to go off and publish all of it.  If any of the characters in the books dare to express reservations about, say, the efficacy–and morality–of torture, they are immediately dismissed as unpatriotic weenies, who should possibly be jailed forever, if not killed outright.  (with a cool weapon!)  The heroes of the books know better, and absolutely hate concepts like habeas corpus.  They approve of things like this, and they fail to see the irony of this.  (Oh, John, when–and why–did you become such a lapdog?)  If they saw this or this, they would be outraged, and shout that it was a complete lie–and accuse anyone who suggested otherwise of treason.  They adore the unfettered use of signing statements.  The notion of Congressional oversight makes them sick.  They would censor this.  They have no idea why this photo is scary, but also really funny.

This upsets them horribly, because they think Jack Bauer is sometimes too sensitive.  (Bill, what the hell were you thinking?  And Rudy, what were you thinking?)

A Salon author, Mark Follman, wrote a great piece about the current Administration’s unfailing reliance upon fear.   Personally, I’d rather have our country’s leaders react more like this.

So, what books am I talking about?  Oh, Brad Thor.  Vince Flynn.  W.E.B. Griffin.

And, despite being somewhat ashamed of myself for doing so, why do I read them? 

Because life is short, and they make me giggle.

Did someone, perhaps, forget to mention this small detail to the Team Making New England Weep lately?  And why would a first-place club, with a good-sized lead, suddenly decide to tank the end of the season, and go for the wild-card, instead?  My father sent me this today, but I remained surly and unhappy, despite his best efforts.  Maybe I will put on one of my favorite shirts tomorrow, in an attempt to cheer up.

I cruelly said to a Yankees fan today, “Well, you know, when it comes to sports teams, the Yankees aren’t exactly The Little Engine That Could.”  That was snide of me.  But, it’s been a hard week, and I’ve scarcely been able to work–or eat–or sleep.  (Note to self–maybe it’s time to find a new damn hobby.)  If you ask me, with a bench full of All-Stars backing up other All-Stars, it’s only news if the Yankees don’t go 162-0 every season.

Which is not to say that this guy isn’t special–because he is.  If you don’t enjoy watching him play, you’re not a baseball fan.  

(taken at a recent game)

And here’s another wonderful athlete.

But, this  guy?  No.  He’s having a season for the ages–but, no.  Absolutely not.  Even though I have a sick, sad feeling that this may happen during the off-season.

Enough of the team I routinely call The Evil Ones.  Instead, we should celebrate my Best Boy.  I may even buy his book.  (where do I stand, insofar as the scandal is concerned?  Dismayed, bereft–and yet quite certain that the punishment far exceeds the crime.)

More about that on another day, I suspect.

Less time dancing; more time in the batting cage.

And I suspect that there is very little dancing going on in Foxboro–but, rather, business as usual.

Am I the only one who had no idea that tapping one’s right foot is code for “let’s have an assignation?”  (she said, politely–and also declining to post a link, since it’s all just too sad and tawdry)  What does it mean if you tap your left foot? 

On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know.

 I’m not a big Katie Couric fan, but this stinks.

Today is the first day of training camp for the New England Patriots.  (and, rumor has it, for more than thirty other NFL teams–but we needn’t concern ourselves with such trivialities.)  

On paper, the Patriots appear to be utterly fabulous, but it is more fun to win a championship by playing actual games.  And, like any sports team, keeping your key players healthy generally determines the outcome of the season.

 That said–ever so politely, it’s hard not to be mighty excited about the Patriots’ prospects this year.  I’ve never liked Randy Moss, but now, he’s one of Our Guys, and so, I’m willing to keep an open mind.  So far, he has been a model citizen, and let’s hope it’s another Corey Dillon story.  For that matter, it’s worth remembering that Rodney Harrison was not a popular NFL figure, and yet has now assumed the position of Wise Elder, along with the likes of my two favorite players, who–I just noticed–share the same initials: Troy Brown and Tedy Bruschi.  So, for that matter, does the gifted quarterback who really needs to rethink some of his fashion choices.

So, in order to celebrate the day properly, here are some fun and easy ways to keep up with the team second only to the Beloved Ones in my heart:

Patriots 1

Patriots 2

Patriots 3

Patriots 4

In other matters, I don’t generally agree with Charles Krauthammer, since he tends to be much too conservative and reactionary, but his editorial about Barack Obama today is well worth reading.  It very nicely sums up many of the same not-ready-for-prime-time concerns I’ve been having about his candidacy, although a favorite writer of mine, E. J. Dionne Jr.,  is spinning the exact same incident in an entirely different direction.    I actually don’t think Mr. Dionne on target with this one, but there’s no question that Hillary really does need to come up with an effective “okay, this is why I voted to go to war in Iraq” answer, or it will dog her forever.  Going with something like, “well, obviously, I had grave reservations, but I honestly never believed that Colin Powell would flat-out lie to the world” might be a way to go.