Look, please, for pity's sake: Justin Verlander pitched a mediocre game last night. Craggs already said his piece about the frantic efforts of the sports press corps to sculpt the pile of horse poop Verlander left on the pitcher's mound into a living, breathing unicorn. The relentlessly genial Joe Posnanski is politely (and correctly) suggesting that his colleagues, in their insistence on celebrating Verlander's greatness this postseason, are engaged in a humiliating and ridiculous mass delusion (being Joe Posnanski, the way he says this is, "Am I just not seeing it?").
Jalopnik · Tom Scocca
The Identities We Construct Through And Around Our Consumption Of Commercial Products Are Tissue-Thin And Contingent
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