Unpleasantness! Again!

Jumping Jehoshaphat! Losers once more. And worse this time. In fact, rarely since Heracles was compelled to clean the Augean Stables has such a deluge of excremental fetor been loosed upon this poor world.

Gazing upon box score in the middle innings of the Bostons' Texas-sized trouncing Saturday night, it seemed clear early on that few would come out of this mess of a match-up smelling like the proverbial rose.

Least of all, of course, was John Lackey, who, with his hangdog deameanor and oversized underbite brings to mind the town yokel who fell off the turnip truck.

Old "Simple Jack" was hardly covering himself in glory: 10 hits and nine runs in the span of a mere three-and-two-third frames is not a peformance one would expect or hope for from our newly-slotted Number Two Man.

Be they doubles, triples, solo circuit clouts, or the grandest of slams, Lackey was happy to oblige the Lone Star State crowd with a fireworks show the likes of which may not have been seen since the year 1264, when Empress Dowager Gong Sheng enjoyed a feast held in her honor by her son, Emperor Lizong, during the late Song Dynasty.

It was the sort of spectacle that would have seen those ancient, long-ago Chinese sipping lustily from flagons of firewater. Here at Full Circuit Clout, we felt compelled, of course, to grab for yet more hefty pours of Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey. ("For When You Are Not Looking Well!")

In fairness, truly, Simple Jack himself was not looking well. The flop sweat fell in rivulets as the balls flew far and fast.

All in all, it was a horrorshow of an evening. Not even the second monstrous clout of the young season from The Colossus, nor a flawless inning from hefty new hurler Bobby "Weirdbeard" Jenks could help to put a cheery face on the proceedings.

But neither Rome nor the green fens of Boston Towne were built in a day. And despite the galling disappointments inflicted thus far by this vaunted squad, us Rooters must keep our heads high and our chins held up!

Courage! Onward!