Either Western Canada’s a harsh breeding ground for all manner of ailments and afflictions –a sort of jerkwater petri dish blooming with pestilence– or the Twins need to find out what the hell Justin Morneau’s putting in his body and/or what he’s done to offend Zeus. Because Morneau’s rapidly becoming the Molehill Job, a man beleaguered by one strange health crisis after another.
Don’t they have indoor plumbing up there in Moosekatoon, or wherever it is Morneau’s from? Are there adequate laundry facilities? Do they properly dispose of their dead? Isn’t there someplace the kid could at least get some vitamins, for crying out loud? Red Cross helicopters should be en route to Morneau’s home town as we speak.
I mean, good lord, pleurisy? Isn’t that something pirates are supposed to catch, if in fact it’s something you actually catch? Have you ever heard of anyone else coming down with a case of pleurisy? I sure as hell haven’t.
And that, of course, is just one of Morneau’s winter collection of ailments, a list that just got longer by one (now, it turns out, he’s got a cyst that needs to be removed) and includes, besides pleurisy, chicken pox, appendicitis, and pneumonia. Those are all ugly words, and strange words to be associated with a strapping 23-year-old lad from Canada.
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