I'm back from vacation. Sorry it took awhile, but I've been busy and recovering from watching TV dramas with shaky, handheld cameras. First, apologies to my wife for killing a roach with her night cream container, or whatever the hell that goop is. I'll buy you another if there's too much roach on the bottom. I'm sure the stuff in the container is extracted from equally chilling things. I even read that most perfumes that ladies wear use ocelot piss or something to make them smell right.
I come back to town to find that Jeff Francoeur has gotten engaged. It's not jealousy when I say this was not a move I recommend. Don't get me wrong. I think he's a good man and a well-raised person from good stock and heritage, but I wouldn't recommend marriage to anyone under 30 who is surrounded by as much uh...passion...as he must be. I sometimes like to go to Turner Field just to watch BP and leave. That's where you learn far more about baseball than anyplace else. Even batboys get the once over from the stiletto-heeled investors in the stands, I've noticed. Contrary to the common propaganda, there is a clear connection between sperm levels and concentration in the male animal.
Computer resellers use this principle all the time to dupe unwary computer consumers into buying something that is not what it seems. They boast how much memory their boxes have and imply that they'll process like the wind with their newest "Fatboy" chip. And then they tout the unbelievable price savings after you package the magic new box with an eye-popping monitor with colors never before seen by humans. Then you get it home and it's all clogged with offers for Tunisia On-Line and Buddy Communicator Helper Assistant and Homework Wizard Blaster for the Kids, as if some dude is cheap and dopey enough to buy a computer that he'll share with his family.
Worst of all, that great block of memory is "shared" by the video monitor, if you're not paying attention, and there you are--stuck with a new computer that runs like the old machine within 2 months of purchase. All that money and effort, and your programs have to share attention with the monitor, degrading the performance of both.
Maybe Jeff thinks that this is a good way to forestall such problems in future trips to the plate. Dance with the one that brung ya. Calm down. Strengthen character. All I'm saying is, if he and the Braves are happy with 25 homers a year instead of 40, hitting .260 instead of .300, knocking in 85 RBI instead of 120, and he has a nice gal, some decent endorsements, and good investment instincts, then I'd like to raise a toast to the future Mr. and Mrs. Francouer and best wishes for the long and fulfilling marriage that Mr. and Mrs. Wachs enjoy.
But wait until you retire to have kids. Oy!