No Country For Old Young Men

We're in the home stretch, campers. Tomorrow's game won't be for the young and weak, who need their beauty rest; it will be for the strong, those who arise at 6 every day to soak in the life-affirming rays of the sun rather than stay up until 1 or 2 being poisoned by the life-sucking glow of the television. Tomorrow will be a day for the old guys. Let's act appropriately.

I will not be going to Professor Thom's, a bar in Manhattan's East Village, which is throwing a massive "Private Party" at the hour of six because it is not legally allowed to be open at that hour. I am on Thom's mailing list, however, and entered a Red Sox haiku contest to celebrate the opener:

The alarm clock rings
It's 6 and the Sox are on
Praise f*cking Jesus

I actually starred it out on the email. I'm getting better. Though it should be:

The alarm clock rings
It's 6 and the Sox are on
Please pass the sake

14 hours to go.

Haiku Review

Schilling breaks silence
Says he'll follow Sox orders
We all await Clay


Pen has open spot?
Competition is quite fierce?
Not this year, methinks


Papelbon checks in
Says he hunts with Eli M.
Please hold Cheney jokes


Wake says he's healthy
It's too bad that "healthy" means
More Mirabelli


"I'm never leaving"
Says catcher Mirabelli
Please, please, please, please go


New pitch for Okie?
Crafty lefty befuddles
Bats rendered useless