Anyone know if there’s a scientific term for that particularly longing one gets to live in California while watching Angles, Dodgers, Padres, Giants or A’s games? It usually only comes up in those contexts. Even the most beautifully shot beach, vineyard, mountain or desert secenes don’t do it for me, but cut to a California ballpark, and I’m ready to put Rosasharn in the jalopy and make west . . .
I suppose that was one Dylan bridge too far, huh? Eh, it’s Monday.