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A TaftOh, frabjous day! Calloo! Callay!

Regular friends of the decanter will recall that I was fretting over the horrible possibilities associated with my beloved Nats adding a 5th Racing President?  Well word has just broken that they, in fact, got it absolutely right!!

Enter “The Big Chief.”

Taft, our country’s 27th President, was always the opportunist, rising to the highest post in the land by always having his “plate the right side up when offices were falling,” as he once jokingly put it. He was also the first U.S. President to throw out a ceremonial first pitch, which he did on Opening Day, 1910, right here in The District. Legend also has it that Taft “invented” the seventh-inning stretch, when he stood up to stretch at a game and the crowd around him followed suit.

Once great allies, he and Roosevelt tussled over policy matters following Taft’s ascension to the Presidency in 1912. That led Roosevelt to run as a third-party candidate against the man that had succeeded him as Commander in Chief, ultimately costing both men the chance to return to the Oval Office. Later in life, the two reconciled, leaving the question open as to whether they will work in concert to try to win in 2013, or if their feuding will cost each a chance at victory.

Oh, so very well done!  The perfect fit  And such a pleasant surprise, as so far as I can tell, nobody saw it coming.

One more reason why this season is going to be teh awesome!

GO, NATS!!!

(Oh, btw, it’s no “legend” that Taft invented the 7th inning stretch.  That’s true.  Or if not, it ought to be, which is good enough for me.)

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48 RobboGreetings, my fellow port swillers!

A glass of wine with you all, as today is ol’ Robbo’s birthday.

Mrs. R had somehow lost track of my age and in her mind was low-balling it a bit.  When I corrected her information, she said, “Forty-EIGHT? Oh, my God! Why, welcome to your late 40’s, old man! Oh, ha ha ha ha!!”

Mrs. R herself is only 42, making her a persnickity young whippersnapper with no proper sense of deference to her elders.  This is what I get for going the child-bride route all those years ago.  On the other hand, it means I get to have the trophy wife without going through all the fuss and bother of trading in a first one.

After she got done laughing, Mrs. R was good enough to say that I don’t look anything like 48 years old.

This, if I may say so, is true.  I do look more like  I’m still in my 30’s.  On the inside, though, I’m beginning to feel the onset of middle age – the failing eyesight, the various plumbing problems, the creaky joints.

And the growing sense of horror and disgust when I read the nooz headlines.   Our so-called “culture” seems to be accelerating in its downward spiral into decadence and barbarism, and it both appalls and alarms me that said culture is becoming increasingly open in its hostility toward….people like me.   I joke about re-education camps and firing squads, but among those who share my world-view, this is becoming more of a half-joke.   What the next few years will hold, I don’t know, but I’m not especially optimistic.

Basta! Enough of all that!  We keep the Faith and do what we can and treat the things of this world with cheerful contempt.  Now if you’ll excuse me,  I’m off to tell them dang kids to git the hell offin’ my lawn!

 

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