So tonight I was standing in Dominick's, staring groggily at a jug of borscht. The borscht doesn't actually figure into this; it's what I happened to be looking at as I became aware that the management were squawking something nonsensical over the loudspeakers. Something about the Cubs. Winning ballgames. Winning a lot of ballgames. This isn't the way things are supposed to go in this city...

I regard Chicago's sports franchises with a sort of affectionate loathing -- we're so famous for all-around sucking that it feels profoundly unnatural to see one actually win at something. The accepted pattern is to get almost there and splat into a wall, like the dutiful White Sox; this, I understand. This, I can cope with.

The Cubs winning a division title?

I swear to god there's something about this in the Book of Revelations, one of those "and the angel opened the sixth seal, and I saw the bear cub grow claws, and turn upon his enemies with much smiting and gnashing and neighbors wandering the streets howling like gibbons" and such sort of deals...

If anyone needs me, I will be in the bomb shelter, editing the Manuscript by kerosene lantern and hoping that my idiot neighbors don't get too over-excited. Considering that riot we had the first time the Bulls slipped up and won something, the prospect of the Chicago Cubs ending a century-long World Series drought just frickin' terrifies me. I'm so glad I don't live near Wrigleyville anymore...
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