About 10 years ago, a Chinese doctor once accused me of being "obbashesshive-commapursshive," which diagnosis I rejected at the time, but with reflection I've come to appreciate his insight. His analysis was off with regard to subject matter -- he was thinking I was obbashesshive-commapurshhive about my job, which I definitely am not. But fixating on the summertime game with the white ball and the wooden sticks and the overpaid jerks ... I guess I have been overdoing that a little bit for the last few decades. And with that condition in mind, I admit that I probably will be spending an inordinate amount of time between now and Spring Training following the usual baseball off-season bullshit: managerial and coaching hirings and firings, player trades, various effluvia from the Arizona Fall League and Venezuelan winter ball action, and, in more desperate moments, a little football and maybe even some hockey.
It's probably more fruitful to contemplate what I'm not going to do during the long, cold months ahead. So I'm starting a list, and here's item one:
(1) Downloading any more Sufjan Stevens mp3s in an effort to understand why the tastemasters have been cumming so hard over him and his boring, overrated crap the last few years.
That should open up a few minutes over the next 180 or so days.
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