Zzzzzzz.
Stop licking me!
Zzzzzzz.
Stop barking!
Zzzzzzz.
Really. Stop licking me!
Zzzzzzz.
Please get off my head.
Zzzzzzz.
Naps with a puppy are not very restful.

Just think if baseball managers took management lessons from today’s Corporate America. MLB would never be the same.

We’re not winning games,
So while not naming names,
It is time for dynamic leadership.

We have to save money,
So while at first it sounds funny,
The outfield is moving away.

In Kuala Lumpur,
We can hire twenty-four,
While here we only have three.

They work 24×7,
In shifts of eleven,
So we have email coverage all day.

We named a Coach of Overseas,
Who has many degrees,
And he will manage the emails.

When a ball is hit deep,
We just remember they’re cheap,
And send someone out from the infield.

We’re still in the cellar,
So in the name of Bob Feller,
We’re merging our infield and bullpen.

We gain great economy of scale,
And to make sure we don’t fail,
We’re cutting all left-handed pitchers.

We added a Coach of Pitch-Catch,
To build this new group from scratch,
With the support of both our old coaches.

We split our latest homestand,
So we’re rebuilding the brand,
But we expect more from our players.

To accelerate the pace,
We’ve chosen third base,
For the infield to all colocate.

Once they all move,
Our fielding will improve,
Because of the cross-pollenization.

We’re not getting ahead,
So our leaders have said,
Next game, we remove all the catchers.

Pitchers need the ball put in play,
Then we will have to all pray,
The ball goes towards third and the infield.

Our team is out of the race,
We’re stuck in last place,
And so, we’re switching to football.

I hate real life.
It tends to get in the way.
I have important things to do.
Like nap.
Write poetry.
Snack.

But, no.
Real life.
Ugh.

I may nap anyway.
After I write this poem.

A long nine-hour flight to Philly.
The flight crew seems a little chilly.
American uniforms but under there,
Are souls that came from USAir.

There’s a woman crouched in 7E.
She’s annoying all the staff she sees.
If our steward hears another “Sir?”,
He’s going to go United on her.

This flight is long, a Transatlantic,
So all the rookies are quite frantic.
In coach, the lunch was Shepherd’s Pie.
But how many shepherds had to die?