This time, it's personal. I know it now. Molly gets it that I think he's seven kinds of suck as a game manager, so as this one wore on, he turned to Bruno, and said, "Hey, what time is it in Hong Kong now? Ol' Dave must be getting up for work by now, after a debauched weekend, let's see if I can truck with his very soul on this fine Monday morning." And so, this. And then he said, "let's see if we can get the drama going and take a lead while he's rushing for his bus, so he has to look down at his non-complying smart phone, and misses that light on Nathan Road, and then has to sprint with all his crap to chase it down, and spills drops of his delicious coffee down his leg, so he looks to his students all day long like he's half a leopard." I know he said that. Then, the Murphy business-- which I didn't know about because I was in the Lion Rock tunnel, but gave me time to crank the volume on "Thieves in the Temple," so I didn't realize how loudly I said the F in front of all my busmates when we came out of the tunnel. And then Gulfa having to bat, and then that home run, and all of that coffee business, and bus-sprint business was for naught. This sucky, soul-crushing Monday morning is on you, Molly. And a few of your co-conspirators. Thanks be to the powers above, though, at least it wasn't in those horrid red jerseys today. Or was it?