The Yanks are beating the Sox, again. 3-1 in the bottom of the eighth. It's probably over for the Red Sox. I hate feeling like this, but it's probably true. I just wish that New York didn't make it look so easy.
Pedro has pitched pretty well, the bats were kept silent by Jon fucking Lieber. When you get beat up by Jon Lieber, you know it's not in the cards. Whatever. I'm just too depressed to even think about it.
I saw an interesting bumper sticker yesterday: "My boss is an Austrian painter." It took me a few seconds to realize what this jackass was talking about, but it was Hitler. I was actually sort of shocked for a few reasons: one the out-and-out brazenness of it, but the car wasn't a shit box, the guy had on a shirt and tie, regular haircut and it looked like he was driving to work (it was 7:45 am).
It looks like the Aryan race has gone above ground. Aside from his Hitler bumper sticker, he also had one that touted the International European Brotherhood and a double-headed eagle. It's been two days and for some reason, I still can't stop thinking about this. It should be a sick joke, but it didn't seem like one.