Chip Caray is as well, but at present, only one of us is gainfully employed.

If you haven’t heard, read the news from the Times’ Richard Sandomir here.  I, for one, will miss the repeated use of the term “fisted,” but I’ll get over it in time to puzzle over that pointless “9 feet” graphic TBS applies off first base.

For those wondering where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing with myself, feel free to email me.  I’m friendly yet somewhat careful about what I mention in open forums.  Besides, this is a baseball blog, and non-baseball items are to be used here only as opening or closing tangents, or in the service of some bizarre analogy.

I go now to finish my fifth call in search of a MetLife broker, and then to apply phosphoric acid–which is a key ingredient in colas–to my rusted medicine cabinet.  I’ll make no posting promises; I’ve regularly fisted those foul.

Fisted!

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