One of the great things about being me is that every time I get really confused about basic moral truths, the universe conspires to set me straight. For instance, this morning I woke up and formulated the idea that maybe Major League Baseball wasn’t run by one of Satan’s minions. But I was not to linger long in delusion: Yes, Virginia, Bud Selig ought to be doused with holy water — and after that, holy napalm.


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