Woe is Montreal.
Some of Montreal. A rather miniscule yet fervent bit of Montreal. The Expos have finally shrivelled up and blown southwestward to The District. As if I care...
In my wayward youth, I was madly in love with Dennis 'El Presidente' Martinez. Just like my inability to get algebra, I managed to get over it all. I mean, him. And MLB.
My GP was the team doctor. When I asked him about that whole "peeing on of hands" business involving Moises Alou's blisters, he played dumb. Which is good, I believe. If he'd copped to it, Gawd knows what he'd tell other people about my physical anomalies. One thing's for sure...I don't pee on my hands. And I have no blisters. So deal.
One,
- D.
No comments:
Post a Comment