Some who read this won’t understand. I have this feeling that when I go on about my deep love of Cleveland Indians baseball, some just clock out and stare at my blankly until I say something that jolts them out of their temporary coma. I understand. That’s how I get when people start talking about celebrity gossip, the importance of predestination/free-will debates, and terrorism threat levels.

For those of you who have not tuned me out, you can probably guess how I am feeling after this weekend. No? Well, I kind of feel like I finally had the rich bully on the run, only to somehow get sucker punched in the stomach.

Game 5 was expected. Josh Beckett is like the rich bully’s best punch - maybe his right hook - that lands square in the jaw and knocks out the majority of opponents. You know it’s coming and you’ve prepared yourself to accept a hard knock, but you rationalize it in your head as being acceptable because you know the rest of the rich bully’s arsenal won’t hurt any worse.

Game 6 was a squandered opportunity that will be looked back on for years as the rich bully’s finest hour. After exhausting his best punch, he somehow managed to muster a follow up kidney punch that not only left the mouth bleeding, but will make sure the reminding sting sticks around for months. The bandwagon elitists who rally around the rich bully because he is one of their own now have the swagger and confidence back that was eerily missing after the first four games.

And then there it is… the final round and the last gasp of hope. The rich bully has invested about three times the amount of resources into preparing for this battle, and both sides know it. The curtain is drawing to a close on David and Goliath is already celebrating with wine and dance. The rich bully pulls out it’s most coveted punch yet - a technique with a price tag only two bullies could meet. It was like the second shot knocked me to the canvas, and now the bully was sharing $103 million dollar kicks to the stomach. It didn’t stop either. For 9 innings, there were kicks. Every time I managed to get to my knees, the rich bully caught a break. It just didn’t stop.

And then I woke up this morning… I woke up and realized I’m not battered and bruised at all. I’m not planning my evenings around the upcoming battles with the rich bully and I don’t seem to be as tense. Knowing that I lost sucks, but the thought that it’s over for now leaves me feeling refreshed and hopeful.

That being said, Lofton was safe at 2nd. Umpire gets the call right, who knows what might have happened?

Oh, and if someone wants to leave a disagreeing comment, save it. I’ll delete it.

Want to know a quick way to tick me off?  Wait until I buy some pumpkin bread or a pumpkin muffin.  If that sucker has a raisin in it, I may flip out.  Snap.  Go ballistic.  Turn into Joe Paterno when I’m cut off by a car full of hippies who run stop signs.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love raisins.  Those wrinkly, chewy little nuggets of dried fruit gold are a great addition to many things.  GORP, for instance… or “ants on a log” with celery and peanut butter.  However, raisins most certainly do not belong in anything pumpkin.  It is an abomination created by Sauron himself in the fiery pits of Mount Doom.  Old people and coffee shop owners of the world have been cast under Sauron’s spell and I will champion the cause of all who strive to fight the good fight.

This is, in effect, another fight against “The Man.”

So, how do we fight this villainy, this perversion of baked goods?  We bake, my friends.  We bake with pumpkin… and with chocolate.  Taking the earthly, ripe taste of the seasonal pumpkin and combining it with the year-round, always appreciated chocolate just makes sense.

If you hate the combination of pumpkin and chocolate, then the terrorists have already won.  Go hide in your duct tape and plastic covered windows and enjoy living out the rest of your days like a hermit eating nothing but the castaway rancid raisin-filled concoctions that pollute our bake sales and church potlucks.

That’s right heretic, bake sale organizers hate your kind.  You show up with the type of treats that get put at the back of the dessert table on Thanksgiving, thinking that somehow your raisin-filled tripe will sound appealing this year.  You yourself passed it up to enjoy a nice piece of someone else’s pumpkin pie!  How do you look at yourself in the mirror the day after Thanksgiving?  Is that why you soaked your raisins in rum?  You think a slight rum-raisin-induced buzz will save you from shame and ridicule?  You think that raisin-filled pumpkin bread is going to help the scouts pay for their canoe trip, or the soften the blow on the marching band uniform budget?  I’ll give you $5 to leave that waste at home where your children will beg you to throw it out and your dog will hate your existence for even thinking about putting that thing in the oven.

And you, coffee shop owner and operator… you should know better.  Your mother made this?  I think it’s time your mother was moved into a home and forced to play scrabble all day while watching re-runs of Matlock.  No… that sounds more like a reward than a punishment.  Change scrabble to Russian Roulette and change Matlock to any of the MTV shows that feature 17 year olds who drive BMWs and live on the ocean and complain about the drama of only getting a $20,000 dress for prom.  Your mom will waste away as we enjoy raisin-free delights with our grande non-fat sugar-laced heroi… coffee.

Me?  I’m going to enjoy the last few lingering bites of pumpkin and chocolate chip muffin I have in front of me while I listen to the new Radiohead album.

We’ve won this battle, my friends, but the war against raisin-filled baked goods has only begun.

So, Pastor Daniel spoke on Sunday on the topic of suffering and the wisdom within the Bible pertaining to the earthly pains we are faced with.  It was a great message and can be found on iTunes if you’re interested.  What struck me a couple of times though is how peaceful my life has been over the past several months.  I had to keep asking myself, is this how I should feel though?  Should I be happy that I’m happy and just ignore it?

I mean, I’ve got a great girl.  She’s been such a steady part of my life since February and has become a rock of trust and comfort.

My job stresses me out at times, but I believe in what I am doing and I feel both supported and challenged by my boss.  I know that she believes in my abilities, but she also wants to see me grow and develop within the organization.

But why… why in the world… why in the world are people supporting Hillary Clinton?  I just don’t get it.  She’s been torn apart in every debate by Barack, she’s shown in polls done by left-leaning organizations that she’s unelectable, and she’s got a laugh similar to a hyena using a jack-hammer.  HMOs?  Thanks Hillary.  She polarizes people in her own party, let alone the country.  The time is perfect for an idealistic, young, strong leader, and Mrs. Clinton just doesn’t fit the bill.

Why?  Why do I have to suffer through another primary candidate that shows so much promise, but somehow isn’t established enough?  In the grand scheme of things though, I keep getting gut checked by Pastor D’s message.

But why?  She’s too polished and her handlers are too aggressive to let her pull a Howard Dean and trip in the homestretch.  Can someone who supports Hillary honesty stand up and give me 5 reasons why she should be president?  I can go back and forth all day about Barack, but I see no valid support of Hillary or her platform.  Does she have a platform?

Anyway, I like mint ice cream.  It’s my favorite.