But our so called leader is known for his profligacy during times of hangover, and imbibement ( I made this word up in my poetry class ).

This year, you might as well cancel the party. Where are the rants? The outrages? The predictions?

Are you cowering under the eye of a Red Sox infiltraitor ( more poetry class )? Why would anyone have an acquaintance, much less a drinking buddy, who wears the fake blood of Schilling on his cap?

Something is not right at this bacchanalia.

Come on Duque, what’s happening with Ivan Nova?

Can’t you at least give us ten reasons why tequila shots are better than bunts?

I am not going to finance another one of these outings if all we get back is 4 lines of

blach ( poetry) once a day.