Here's the hell of it, here's the nasty, dregs-of-the-bottle truth of things:
There's no quitting the sorry Bums.
They can lose three straight to the Giants (and lose by one bloody run each time out, thank you very much); they can put two on with nobody out in the 11th on Sunday, only to rumble and stumble their way into bit parts in Yorvit Torrealba's bildungsroman; and they can make Marvin Bernard look like Zeus.
Still, I got no outs.
They can twist my skin-and-bones ...
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