Bienvenue, les ánes qui tuent les phoques. Nous souhaitons que vous appreciez votre sejour ici a Kansas. Nous esperons que vous ne souffrez pas de morts plein de la douleur comme les phoques de la patrie.
(I apologize to Canadians everywhere who have never killed a baby seal. The picture of the hakapik-wielder is just too much fun. Many thanks to the lovely Kira for that French, which I'll be the first to admit isn't completely accurate.)
Jays-Royals, tonight! And the next night! And the next! And the next!
POSTSCRIPT: Following up on something: I fussed about a certain Oprah-Cormac McCarthy interview in the above-link, which you'll find here (you have to sign up for the book club to view it). I like the part where McCarthy says, "Oh I don't know, passion sounds like a fancy word," this from a guy who routinely drops phrases like, "They passed through a highland meadow carpeted with wildflowers, acres of golden groundsel and zinnia and deep purple gentian and wild vines of blue morninglory and a vast plain of varied small blooms reaching onward like a gingham print to the farthest serried rimlands blue with haze and the adamantine ranges rising out of nothing like the backs of seabeasts in a devonian dawn." Blog Meridian has more to say on that book.