Holy shit. We've been staring at this screen for, like, a decade, and we've come to realize that we have absolutely nothing to say. Seriously. Nothin'.
Maybe it's just that we haven't watched a full game in almost two weeks (life itself having impeded our baseball privileges), or maybe it's that there's not nearly as much to bitch and moan about since the Jays finally pulled it together in the month of May.
It might even be that we are insanely jealous that the Drunk Jays Fans interviewed our not-so-secret mancrush Stephen Brunt on their latest podcast. (We're assuming that the invitation for a return engagement for yours truly must have been lost in our spam filter.)
Hey man, we're sorry. We've just gotten fat, lazy and disengaged. It's as if David Shoalts is writing the blog posts here. It's gotten so bad that we can barely muster the energy to shit on the Yankees in anticipation of the series, which starts tonight.
Sorry we suck. We're gonna get back into fighting shape this week, we swear.
In the meantime, we're just going to work the word "smegma" into as many posts as possible in lieu of saying anything witty or insightful.