"Why don't you purify yourself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka?"

I'm off to the Great White North to witness some nuptials -- Cookman and The Double J (loyal FYC readers have cyber-met them before) are finally tying the knot -- and I get to use my vast experience with playoff chokery to help out some ailing Twins fans. So I'll leave you with what I think about whenever I think of Minnesota: That funky little Johavan chap we call Prince.

Or, more specifically, Prince playing basketball.

[have a great playoff weekend, kids. go cards. go twins. go yanks. go a's. go tigers. go mets. go dodgers... fuck, go everyone! lets have some great cold baseball this weekend, huh? oh, and cards... serve the pods up like pancakes.]

The Mets can purify themselves in the waters of my nuts.

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"I'll be dead in the cold, cold ground before I recognize the state of Missouri."