...and sadly, it's not in any way a good, Clintonian funk.
It is more of an autumnal funk borne of three weeks of solid misery. The economy is in the shitter. The federal election robbed us of our will to engage politically. The days are getting shorter. The nights are getting colder. We're getting older. Responsibilities are piled on while the few remaining hopes and dreams of our youth fall like the rusted foliage.
And all the while, as we turn to our second great love in life for solace and comfort, we watch the Tampa Bay Rays and think to ourselves: They're just going to get better, aren't they? And the Jays are going to be a little bit worse. If not a lot worse.
Watching the Rays young rotation, which will only become deeper with the addition of David Price next year, we're left with a gnawing feeling that Roy Halladay and the rag-tag band of brigands that the Jays run out to the mound next season are going to have their work cut out for them.
And to make matters worse, the Yankees and Red Sox are sure to retool and rebuild following years that fell short of expectations.
Then there's the whole matter of the 82 cent dollar, which will dig into any potential payroll increases that may have been forthcoming.
It's a shite state of affairs, and six Paul Beestons wouldn't make any difference at this point.