Wyndham Clark nearly carded a 59, proving that in sports as in politics, everyone’s obsessed with breaking barriers—though the Trump administration’s new citizen lists and overseas green card mandates seem hell-bent on building them instead. Over in Hollywood, Star Wars has finally crash-landed with all the grace of a 600-pound fridge, leaving Disney to ponder if The Force is strong enough to survive a box office turnout lower than a Sith Lord’s spirits. Meanwhile, an Indiana coach drove a pace car, a Senate candidate learned that criticising the Red Sox ownership is a foul ball on their own network, and a beloved crossword constructor bid us a final farewell—leaving us with the distinct impression that the only puzzle anyone can solve these days is how on earth we ended up in this timeline.
🎵 (s)Hit of the Day 🎵
Version 1
Version 2
📜 Lyrics 📜
[Verse 1]
Sixty shots on a Sunday, they call it a display
While the Indy pace car waits for its moment in the fray
You can coach the hell out of anything that moves
But you can't coach the cash from the corporate grooves
The pitcher's mound is sacred, or so the saying goes
But mention private equity and everybody knows
The advert gets pulled from the broadcast stream
The boardroom's off-limits, if you know what I mean
[Chorus]
It's a sacred mound, boys, keep your voices down
You can cheer the numbers but don't look around
The pitcher's dirt is holy ground
But the ledger stays face down
Yeah, the ledger stays face down
[Verse 2]
Disney counted coins while the Mandalorian fell
Eighty million opening, not going very well
The Force has left the building, the fans have gone away
Exhausted goodwill on a hot holiday
And Laura Clery met a fridge with a heavy heart
Six hundred pounds of karma playing its part
Real life slapstick from the depths of hell
Pinned beneath the weight of the stories we tell
[Bridge]
A firefighter walks into the smoke and the flame
Five lives in his arms, no fortune, no fame
Robert Kilduff knew what a hero costs
While the rest of us count up what we've lost
Manny's gone too, with his crosswords and his wit
A life of clever puzzles, every box neatly fit
[Saxophone Solo]
[Verse 3]
State by state, they're drawing up the lists
Who gets to vote and who simply don't exist
Green card applicants sent back home to wait
Caught in a maze of bureaucratic hate
A shot rings out near the White House gates
Another bystander learns what fate creates
The authorities search for answers they won't find
Just another Tuesday for the weary mind
[Chorus]
It's a sacred mound, boys, keep your voices down
You can cheer the numbers but don't look around
The pitcher's dirt is holy ground
But the ledger stays face down
Yeah, the ledger stays face down
[Outro]
Face down
Keep it face down
The ledger stays face down