Feeling like Sisyphus?
Take me out to the ballgame? No, just take me out and shoot me. How could the Red Sox blow it? Anyone who doubts that the curse exists must now admit this is a team against whom the gods conspire in a very Ancient Greek way. If scientists mate a Red Sox fan with a Cubs fan, they will produce the perfect loser - a human being destined to be constantly taken to the edge of fulfilment and just as constantly have it snatched away.

Hey Red Sox fan, as you stand on the bridge late tonight with a couple of cinder blocks tied to your ankles, just remember that it is only a game. It's a game played by knucklehead overgrown adolescents who act like prima donnas and who make more money than some small countries; it's a game run by corporations whose only interest is in screwing every cent they can out of the hapless fan, who would put a game on at 2am if they thought it could increase their broadcast revenue, and who threaten to move teams at the drop of a hat if taxpayers don't help them build an even bigger stadium. So untie those weights and step down from the parapet - the game isn't worth it.