Sore ribs and Cesar Izturis

Today, TGP's ribs hurt. Just like yesterday. It hurts to move too fast, it really hurts to cough. He talked to the Kaiser Advice Nurse. She said make sure not to stop breathing deeply, because that's how you get pneumonia. Now he's sitting at the Control Panel of the entire Great Plotnik World Empire, typing with one hand, as he holds the heated up hot thingy against his ribs. The nurse says this will help, but if it's not better in two weeks...two weeks?

Criminy. And Plot and Duck are heading down to see Mummy Plotnik in a few days, where Plotnik will have to keep repeating to himself "DON'T talk about Israel. DON'T say one word. If you hear the word 'Israel' run out of the room without coughing."

Practice:
"It's all Hezbollah's fault."
"How 'bout them Dodgers?"
"Poor Israel has no choice but to incinerate Lebanon."
"I sure will miss Cesar Izturis."

So long Cesar Izturis. What a smooth shortstop. Baseball teams never understand the value of great fielders. Plotnik always identifies with smaller, quicker players, like Cesar, like Wally Backman, like Randy Winn, like Davy Lopes, the players who don't make a lot of headlines but always help their teams win pennants. Now Cesar's a Cub. Cough. OUCH.