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As I wasn’t in the vicinity of an intertoob-connected keyboard yesterday, I didn’t get the opportunity to congratulate my beloved Nats for o-fficially clinching their first post-season berth on Thursday evening since God-knows-when 1933.  Well done, indeed.

Of course, this is only a small stepping stone.  A wildcard slot in this bizarro new “play-in” format that I don’t really understand or trust is all well and good, but the boys still have their collective eye on winning the whole damn division.

The local press yesterday was at great pains to point this out to the fan base, which was in an understandably celebratory frame of mind after the win.  The general tone, which was rayther curt, reminded me of that exchange from Bull Durham.

Nuke LaLoosh:  Can’t you even let me enjoy the moment?

Crash Davis:  Moment’s over.

Which, I suppose, is the way it ought to be.  Especially after last night’s blown game against the Brewers, we need to remember that there are still two weeks of regular season ball left.

So what else is there to say except GO, NATS!!!!

I mention below that autumn is my very favorite season of the year.  It’s too early in the morning for me to do an extended essay on the reasons why, and any rate I need to go mow the lawn.  So instead, I’ll just repost for your contemplation the poetry of Mr. Dennis Coot Mr. John Keats:

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
  Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
  With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,          5
  And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
    To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
  With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,   10
  For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
  Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
  Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;   15
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
  Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
    Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
  Steady thy laden head across a brook;   20
  Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
    Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
  Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,   25
  And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
  Among the river sallows, borne aloft
    Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;   30
  Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
  The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
    And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

 

Greetings, my fellow port swillers and happy first day of autumn!  (Ol’ Robbo’s very favorite season of the year, by the bye.)

I realize that the company which gathers around the decanter here is a very small one.  Not quite the gospel two or three together, perhaps, but not that many more if my sitemeter is anything to go by.

However, I would point out that while the company may be small, you people are also select, in that every now and again amidst his trivial ramblings Robbo will get out in front of the curve on a matter of publick interest, thereby taking you along with him.

To wit, a couple of times this week I mentioned or implied my contempt for the press.  Indeed, I seem to have coined a term for them that really rayther pleases me: cymbal-clashing echo monkeys.  T’other evening, I even went so far in illustrating my metaphor to the port swiller family as to bug out my eyes, start banging my hands together and chant, “Dismisses the 47%!! Dismisses the 47%!! Dismisses the 47%!!”

Needless to say, my family thinks I’m pretty strange.  (Well, they thought that anyway, but….)

So then what happens when I’m away from the interewebs for a day?  A new survey comes out backing me up on this very subject, that’s what.

Feels kind of good to be at the front of the line sometimes…….

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