My daughter made me this damn doll for Father's Day.
You know what a Dammit Doll is, right?
When things go bad, you're supposed to take out your damn frustrations on the damn doll.
As opposed to the damn dog.
In our house, we have this damn wall in the damn kitchen.
In fact it's called "The Damn Wall".
Every piece of damn art we hang on this damn wall has to have some use of the word "damn" in it.
Then we get to say, "Hang it on The Damn Wall!"
It's a damn exercise in family creativity, as we're all involved.
And that's where the Dammit Doll hangs now, after I savaged it.
The damn Cubs get swept by the damn Rays and lose 3 damn straight for the first damn time this year.
Zambano hurt shoulder, Edmonds hurt foot, Hart hurt head, Johnson hurt back, Cedeno hurt food, Marmol hurt inning, Eyre hurt game, Lou hurts the press, Cubs hurting for sleep, and you and me hurt feelings.
So I hurt Dammit Doll.
But you know what?
It's a new damn day.
It's a new damn day with a chance for a damn victory against the damn Chicago White Sox.
How damn awesome would that be?
See you at Wrigley, dammit.
ps: (I won't use the words that rhyme with "Hurled Fear Ease") If there's anything good that came out of this damn series, it is this: should the Cubs...happen to play the damn Rays...later on this year...there'll be no damn surprises and should be a little damn revenge on the damn minds of the damn Cubs.