|
|
|||||||
I predict that when we wake up in the morning, Ivan will be sitting at 19.9999, spinning away at 82.2222, and the mets will be scratching their white heads and plucking the remnants of their young locks off their shirt collars. And, the majority of us will be sloshing down the last of our coffee, with blurry looping vision, still trying to figure out if we saw a northern wobble or not. |