There is much hand-wringing in Cardinal Nation.  We'd rather there were neck-wringing, starting at the top of this organization.  Our frustration trickles all the way down to our stubborn closer and his insistence that The Cutter remain an integral part of his arsenal, as it were.  Well of course he's not going to change.  And his manager is not going to demote him or demand that he change his stripes.  As a result, we've broken out in a cold sweat and can't seem to shake it.  There is plenty of anxiety to go around.   So our choices are two:

--don't watch
--self-medicate

Let me say up front that the best solution would be some rotation of those two options, or the first one by itself.  

Remember kids: don't do drugs.  

But yesterday--being the team player that I am--I offered to work on a formula for the latter option.  

I arrived one step closer to the answer last night. With Mulder's return it would be unlikely that Izzy's services would be needed for this one.  So I decided that, early in this contest, I needed to go hard or go home.  And since I was already home...  

Day 1: Miller High Life and black tar heroin.  

Instead of watching Mulder give up 4 runs before he got two outs, I was in la-la land.  Chicken Consomme and homestyle mashed potatoes (the wife really outdid herself) washed with 3 High Lifes and then a big ball of smack in my arm.  Mmm-hmmm.  

I spent three hours hallucinating: visions of a game of pepper that included Stubby Clapp, Bo Hart, Tony Womack, Aaron Miles and Vern Troyer (with the bat in his hands the whole time).  Then, three hours in, Tony LaRussa emerges from the dugout and double-switches: Gaedel for Troyer, Isringhausen for Hart.  On the first toss, Izzy unleashes The Cutter and Gaedel takes him yard.  Now everybody's pissed because that was the only ball they had (hey, budget constraints) and they start beating the hell from Gaedel.  Just then, Bill DeWitt jumps over the railing from the owner's box and tries to strip the "1/8" jersey off of Gaedel before it gets dirty and forfeits its pristine condition (value: $22,000).  Izzy tries to stop him by throwing a cutter at his head from 5 feet away.  Naturally, DeWitt is unharmed.  He punches Izzy in the face, grabs the jersey, jumps in a helicopter, and screams, "GET ME TO A FUCKING DRY CLEANER RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!"  (Duncan later says that it was the right pitch, Izzy just missed location.)  I gets fuzzy from there.

I slowly emerged from my heroin coma to a waking state just in time to catch Jim Hayes' toupee interviewing Jim Edmonds.  (Edmonds: "Umm, yeah...I can help you with those gray hairs...").

At least I think I was awake.

Either way it was a helluva ride and one that, as a distraction, will be hard to equal. The only downside to this experience is the sideways glances I'm getting today from my co-workers when they see the giant pockmark on my arm.  Yeah, that's no good for job security.  

Results of Day 1: Keep the High Life, ditch the black tar.