Okay, lissen, bear with me, cuz I promise that I will get back to the movie reviewing game sometime very soon, but right now nothing out there gives me the shivers like watching some post-season baseball, and this year's edition kicks ass; we've not only got the most remarkable one man show this side of Barry Bonds or dinner theatre with Hal Holbrook, in the person of Houston's Carlos Beltran, but also the most unlikely of comebacks, a historical first major league baseball-wise, as the cursed and my beloved Red Sox try to rise up from 3 games down, after hovering on the brink of elimination like a masochist beneath Damocles sword, which I hope helps to explain why I am currently completely incapable of fathoming well enough the charms of South Park's nihilistic patriotism or appreciating in an appropriate manner the irreverence of David O. Russell's pseudo-intellectual onanism to write about 'em meaningfully; so, please y'all, be patient with me, smoke 'em if you got 'em and all that, cuz I've got a coupla games to prepare myself for. Carlos, be ye mighty and unafraid, but most importantly of all: GO RED SOX!