Now that the World Series is behind us, would someone please explain why the Red Sox players decided to grow those silly-looking beards? While it’s true that I have a beard, I grew mine because I hated shaving. But I have a feeling that’s not why Dustin Pedroia, David Ortiz and the rest of those guys grew theirs. I suppose it’s possible that someone thought it would be a great way to unify the team, but I thought that was the purpose of the uniform and the fact that the same guy was signing their checks.

I swear, I wasn’t sure if I was watching a professional baseball team or the House of David.

It always seemed to me that nothing better showed the arrogance and stupidity of unions than the New York City newspaper strike of 1962. The union targeted seven dailies. When the strike ended, 114 days later, only three of them had managed to survive.

You would have thought the workers would have ridden the union leaders out of town on a rail, but that’s not how such things work. Although they call each other brother and sister in labor circles, the fact that the survivors were getting a few bucks more was all that really mattered.

But I have now come across an even more suicidal example. As Kathy Jessup spells out in a Blaze article, even after the Teamsters decided to cut Interstate Bakeries Corp., better known as Hostess, manufacturers of the iconic Twinkies and Ho Hos, some slack, the Bakery, Confectionary, Tobacco and Grain Millers International – you know, the good old BCTGMI – decided to dig in. As a result, Hostess is now owned by Dean Metropoulos, who does not suffer fools or unions gladly, and bakers who were once earning $16.53-an-hour are now starting out at $11-an-hour. So who’s ho-hoing now?

I realize there are people who like and respect Barack Obama. What I don’t understand is why. I mean, he’s a guy who started out, by his own admission, boozing and using drugs. Along the way, he became a compulsive liar, a racist and a class warfare-waging Marxist. Consider that at one of his 2008 fund-raisers, he told a group of wealthy San Francisco pinheads that, just like them, he despised those Americans who clung to their guns and their religion. At one fell swoop, he demeaned decent, law-abiding Americans, for no other reason than that they took their 1st and 2nd Amendment rights seriously.

Speaking of Obama, it recently came to light why the rollout of the Affordable Care Act was such a royal hash. It seems that Toni Townes-Whitley, the senior VP of CGI Federal, which got the no-bid contract to build the $675 million enrollment website at Healthcare.gov, was a Princeton classmate of Michelle Obama’s. I know it’s embarrassing, but Barack is in no position to berate her. After all, he blew two or three times as many tax dollars underwriting those various solar panel and electric car companies for no other reason than that the company owners were major contributors to his presidential campaigns.

Someone recently sent me a list of single foreign words that manage to sum up things that would require an entire sentence in English. For instance, the German word, waldeinsamkeit, is defined as the feeling of being alone in the woods. (And I say that if you’re the sort who goes around dropping words like waldeinsamkeit, you have nobody but yourself to blame if you’re alone in the woods or anywhere else.)

In Russian, a pochenuchka is a person who asks too many questions. (In Russia, the other word to describe such a person is dead.)

In Hawaiian, pana po'o describes the action when you scratch your head because you’ve forgotten where you left your car keys. (I would think it would be easier to find one’s keys than to know how to pronounce that darn apostrophe.)

In Indonesia, a jayus is someone who tells a joke so badly, you can’t help laughing. (I happen to know several of those people, and I’ve always been able to control myself.)

And among the Eskimos, iktsuarpok is the feeling of anticipation that makes you go outside and check if anyone is coming. (It’s the North Pole, guys…believe me, nobody’s coming.)

Speaking of things foreign, Ann Coulter defines the Irish form of Alzheimer’s as the inability to remember anything but your grudges.

I must confess that struck a chord, making me wonder if I just might be Irish, and if at some time, the name may have been O'Prelutsky. That’s because I’m convinced that on my death bed, my last words will be “Damn that Obama!”

Author’s Note: Although I’m still seeking sponsors, my online radio show is on the air, every Wednesday, at 1 p.m. That’s L.A. time. Access www.latalkradio.com, channel 1, and click on Listen Live. You can also download to your iPhone or Android apps. The call-in number is (323)203-0815. I’d like to hear your questions and comments, pro or con. Especially pro.