Night Owl Cards

One of the great disappointments in my life is the inability to grow a respectable mustache. This is both my fault and the fault of my ... um ... surroundings. I actually grew a mustache and wore it for about a year-and-a-half around 12 years ago. It was your average, full, well-maintained 'stache. But the problem was I have blond hair and those yellow mustaches never really work out right. It was a Frank Viola mustache. You know the kind. He has a mustache. You know it's there. But part of you isn't quite sure. Is that really a mustache? Your eyes get all squinty trying to determine what he has on his upper lip. That's the way it was for me. Close up? Oh, yeah, that's a mustache. At a distance? Can't tell without ma glasses. The solution for us fair-haired folk who want their facial hair to stand out is to grow a fu-manchu or a righteous mustache-beard ensemble. But that's where the "surroundings" come into play. I'm pretty certain...

With all the hubbub over that situation in Boston, I was wondering whether I should post anything today. Nobody seemed to be interested in somebody's baseball cardboard anymore. They just wanted to talk about bombs and shootings and cops and CNN and "24." And then I realized that was only my Twitter timeline -- where nobody can stay focused -- and that we're not all in lockdown. Card bloggers know they can still blog about cards, thank goodness. And I thank you all for continuing to show cards and not suddenly transforming into the Police Scanner Blog. But I want to acknowledge Boston in some sort of card-related type way. I have affection for Boston. My brother used to live there. His former in-laws still live there. I have enjoyed my time there immensely, which is not something I can say about every big city I have visited. Yet, in the last 10 years or so, I have encountered too many people trashing ... well, mostly the Red Sox. But by extension, the fans ...