Our horse is spooked, half-lame, and Soehn's facing the wrong way . . . without the reins . . . in his underwear . . . with a ukulele. Who the hell am I kidding? Horse? More of a donkey if you ask me. A donkey wearing a tiara. That's the best we can manage against a demoralized, MASH-unit Chivas? Good night, Tommy-boy. If he doesn't go, we're not making the playoffs. Might as well send half the team packing as well because I don't see enough pride and fight in this current crop of absolute dross. If I can manage an official Reaction piece to that steaming pile tomorrow, I will, but I'm not promising anything--it'd be kinda like sticking your face in the toilet after doing some nasty business.
** Breaking News Update **
Shatz over at DCUMD comes through with the image of Soehn on the donkey. Good God! For your sake, dear reader, I almost wish I hadn't imagined that. Almost ;-).