Besides there are issues to address.
Do we despair? I think not. We survived the Felix Escalona Game, we'll survive this.
Frank Francisco didn't have the best night of his life, and when he was done, he asked the assembled reporters if they'd like to talk to him. Naturally, they wanted to. But Frankie was just setting them up (he told them something we won't repeat here and stalked off into the night or the trainer's room.) Several questions come to mind. For example:
-- Was that Frankie's best setup job of the season?
-- Just how obscene is it that they allow this idiot to profane Tom Henke's number?
Mike Green and I were going back and forth on whether Rajai Davis or Vernon Wells was the better baseball player right now. Which, when you step back for a moment and remember how bad both of them have been in 2011, is very much a "Which is the tallest of those two jockeys?" kind of question.
Finally, Bauxite agator observed that:
If last night's ninth inning did not warrant an honest gag reflex of despair, it certainly qualified for a bout of morose questioning of direction and a nagging insistence that Kafka may have been on to something.
Indeed. What are the lessons we can take from Kafka to help us through?
Maybe Kafkaesque is not the best way to see what's happening around here. Perhaps we should remember the immortal words of the greatest pessimist of them all, Arthur Schopenhauer:
Never a rose without a thorn. But many a thorn without a rose.