You don’t talk about a no-hitter in progress. If you’re on the team, you don’t even talk to the pitcher in question. About anything. Especially the possibility of it fucking up.
It jinxes it.
Can’t you just smell the fear? 
:rolleyes: Cheeses K. Reist! The Pubs did the exact same thing in '04! Have they run out of ideas?!
Okay. I heard about that once, but I thought it was a perfect game. (Why isn’t a no-hitter perfect, anyway?)
Not fair, I didn’t get a chance to grab my Gray’s Sports Almanac before we traveled back to 2004.
Yes, everyone, we’d sure hate for Obama to lose the election because we jinxed it. Then we might have to go bury a live chicken in a sacred Indian cemetery to appease the Gods and make things right.
You know what? I’ll go so far as to bet cash that Obama wins the election, if anybody wants to take me up on it. That’s how worried I am about all this counting chickens crap.
In a no-hitter, a batter can still get on base with a walk (a pitcher can even lose the game if he walks too many batters). A perfect game is when the pitcher doesn’t allow anyone to get on base at all.
ETA: No-hitters are rare. Perfect games are really really really rare.
An opposing player can get on base (through an error or base on balls) thus it’s no longer ‘perfect.’ 27 up 27 down, That’s perfect.
A perfect game no one gets on base - that means no walks no hit by pitches, nothing. It’s perfection.
A no hitter is just that- no hits given up to the other team.
A Perfect Game is WAY WAY harder than a No Hitter to accomplish, though a No-no is still pretty tough to get.
A no hitter is a game in which nobody ever gets a hit and it goes on forever, and ever. In History there has only ever been one no-hitter and it is still going on.
A perfect game is one that you attend which takes place on a Friday when by all rights you should be at work.
Well, you have to admit that they’re working premise, the end justifies the means, is fairly durable. 
They’ll remove the ‘B’ keys and reinstall them backwards.
Sorry, the wardrobe mistress has you down for crackhead welfare dependent gangsta rapper. If you can find a latte sipping effete snob who is the same size as you and would prefer to be a crackhead welfare dependent gangsta rapper, you may trade costumes, but we can’t do this pageant properly if EVERYBODY gets to be a latte sipping effete snob.
Actually, I think there’s a tall kid dressed as a stalk of celery in the Four Food Groups pageant next door, who had been complaining that he wanted to be something a little more robust, like red meat. He might be willing to trade his celery stalk for a crackhead welfare dependent gangsta rapper costume, and you might have better luck trading into latte sipping effete snob.
Now, where the HELL did the socialist lesbians get to? They said they wanted a quick smoke break, and that was half an hour ago…
Sorry, we stay at home moms deserve job security folks too were keeping the socialist lesbians too long. We’ll go over and chat with the granola eating tree hugger Birkenstock wearers–we hear they have the best pot.
Best post of the day!!
Call Wilkes-Barre. Trust me, they need calling.
Is there a Wilkes-Barre Syndrome or have I been watching too much House?
Well, there’s Epstein-Barr virus, which causes you to turn into a bizarre mixture of sitcom characters: half Perto Rican/Jew tough-guy Sweathog, half corpulent working-class sarcastic mother.
Well, yeah: I want a landslide and an airtight mandate. And the odds of that are certainly not overwhelming.
Besides, I also believe that it’s best not to tempt fate.
We interrupt this lovefest for an item from this morning’s fishwrapper:
The latest McClatchy poll shows the gap between Obama and whatsisface narrowing.
Just thought I’d brighten up everyone’s day.
Somebody got a chicken to bury?