Apropos of nothing, except the author’s own interior examinations, here are some brief and confidently worded remarks on the best and worst months of the year from the point of view of a baseballing enthusiast.
If, at any point, the reader should find himself doubting the veracity of the following remarks, he (i.e. the reader) should draw his attention to how confidently worded they (i.e. the remarks) are and find himself duly staid by same. Should that fail to instill due reverence, then he (i.e. the same reader) should contemplate the embedded image of the Grand Canyon and allow himself to be awed duly by it — or, at least, by the idea of the Grand Canyon — and to retain that sense of awe while entering the following.
Now, those brief remarks, briefly.
The Worst: October
Whoever said “‘Tis better to have loved and lost / Than never to have loved at all” was misled — first of all, because the “whoever” in question is Alfred Lord Tennyson (i.e. a person that basically everyone agrees was really misled), but also, second, because we very clearly learn from the world’s most successful ethical models that the largest threat to sustained happiness is the excitement of the passions.
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