Much has been made in the last few days about the death of civility in America. Serena’s tirade at the US Open only slightly overshadowed Representative Joe Wilson’s yell during President Obama’s health care speech. And of course, both of those events ended up being being blown away by Kanye West’s impromptu hijacking of the VMAs.
But I don’t think all of this is bad.
It’s good to see Serena fired up. God knows none of the other Americans in the main draw at the US Open came close to her fire with the possible exception of a seventeen year old. And when you’re used to stars making the same inane comments, it’s nice to see that there’s still room for the insane. As for Wilson, although it might have been nice for him to express his views in a slightly more constructive way and perhaps in a more appropriate forum, he expressed how strongly Americans feel about the issue of health care.
I’d love to see the Tigers this fired up about their season. They may be in the driver’s seat in the AL Central but they sure don’t look like they’re in control. The only reason they’re in first is because the other teams in the division are giving it away.
However, I’m hoping the Tigers can take heart in the exploits of the University of Michigan football team. I don’t think anyone expected much but they went out this past weekend and won one of the two games that count this season. Civility may be dead but so are the hopes and dreams of thousands of Fighting Irish fans and that’s good enough for me.
The Truth is: the view from Pujols-ville is more than satisfying these days. Despite my colleague’s dastardly attempts to poke holes in the euphoric reality of the game’s best player hitting walk-off homeruns to champion the St. Louis Cardinals to its current nine game lead in the NL Central over the Chicago sCrUBS, I continue to attest to the wondrous ecstasy that is having a bonafide man-crush on Number 5.
Say what you want, Mr. Krause, Pujols-ville is full of winners.
The same cannot be said for the barely above mediocre Detroit Tigers.
And when times are tough, Mr. Krause — when the .500 Minnesota Twins and sub .500 Chicago White Sox have legitimate shots at besting your patchwork club — I understand that human nature may force you to criticize, to chide, to castigate. Indeed, your rural upper middle class gun-totin’ religion-clingin’ Republican roots have crept their way into the conversation with your most recent closing statement:
“Don’t hate me because of my inability to fantasize about Albert Pujols
in a kiddie pool full of tapioca pudding. Hate me ‘cuz I’m right.”
Jealously does often cause one to slander.
But the above statement is more than just blasphemy. It’s code.
You see, dear readers, Mr. Krause and I both fancy ourselves as learned linguists. With two foreign languages under each of our respective belts (that’s four total, not counting the mother tongue), it’s easy for us to slip hidden messages here and there. In this case, the curious Albert/kiddie-pool/tapioca-pudding reference has deeper meaning…
Ne me détestez pas en raison de mon incapacité de fantasmer au sujet d’Albert Pujols dans un regroupement de kiddie complètement de pudding de tapioca. Détestez-moi ‘cuz que j’ai raison.
No odio, porque no puedo Albert Pujols un grupo de fantasía para niños que pudín plenamente tapioca. Odio porque yo tenía razón.
لا اكره لأنني لا أستطيع ألبرت Pujols مجموعة من الخيال للأطفال بشكل كامل التابيوكا الحلوى. أنا أكره لأنني كنت على حق.
And finally, back to English:
“Did not force! For that I, Albert, did not can Pujols’ group from the horseman for the children, thoroughly Al-Hulwah! I forced for that. I was justified.”
Yep. Mystery solved. Mr. Krause wishes he were Albert. He fears those pesky horsemen, the children and most importantly, those more than creepy Al-Hulwahs.
Hard for me to hate Mr. Krause for that. Sometimes the Al-Hulwahs even keep me up at night.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
First of all my fine young friend, I want to thank you for taking the time to read our blog. Each one of our readers is a beautiful and unique snowflake and you are no different Jessie. Even if you are from Missouri.
But you know who is not a snowflake? Kyle Farnsworth. Nope, he’s an overpaid, overhyped bag of suck. On the bright side for Royals’ fans is the fact that Farnsworth hasn’t lost a game in ten days. Which is pretty good for him. However, his ERA has been steadily climbing and that’s not such a good thing. Well, unless you’re a fan of a rival AL Central team.
But to get to your question Jessie, you waggish little scamp, yes, we are tough on Farnsy. But did you ever think that maybe it’s because we love him? I mean, we’re always toughest on those we love, right? And to be fair, baseball would be a sad place without Kyle. Who would cry on camera when he finds out he’s traded? Who would constantly underwhelm us yet still receive ungodly amounts of money from each subsequent team?
Are we unfair, though? Absolutely not. He’s a public figure. I look at him like I do a politician. When a politician does something I don’t like, I have the right to criticize his or her performance because I help pay their salary. That makes them accountable to me. And when I buy a ticket to a baseball game or a new hat, I’m helping to pay the salary of all these baseball players. Do you see where I’m going with this Jessie, my intrepid little friend? If I’m paying part of your salary, I’ve earned the right to critique your performance. And to be quite frank, I would be remiss if I didn’t critique Mr. Farnsworth’s ongoing recital.
So Jessie, you impish little rascal, thank you for your insightful question but I hope the response has helped you see the light. Here at RSBS we are often tough on people and issues but we are never unfair. Except for maybe with A-Rod but that’s because he’s a d—-bag.
Yes, dear readers, those are the black tears of death running down the face of Kansas City Royals’ franchise juggernaut, Mark Teahen. As a proud member of the Royals, Teahen obviously experiences a lot of down time. So instead of wallowing away in the wasteland that is the Royals’ prospects at winning this year, Mark appears to be flirting with his death metal alter ego Marduk Two-Bagger.
In an effort to boost his fettered teammates’ moribund morale, Teahen also recorded an album featuring some quality head-thrashing tracks that aim to electrify underground metal clubs all across US America and inject fear into the ripped-out hearts of AL Central foes. Some of the more titillating featured titles from this album are:
Skulling Tony Pena
Thrash and Mesh Gil’s Misanthropic Meche
Goliath Killed David’s DeJesus
Nequaquam Vacuums and CoCo Crisps: Eat Them and DIE!!!
Crucify Kyle Farnsworth
Something tells me Kyle won’t have any problem doing that on his own…
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Image Courtesy of the Associated Press)
*The above story is completely false… and by false I mean it’s true… in my own little fantasyland.
Last year about this time I was already discussing the Tigers’ World Series victory parade and trying to figure out how I would attend. Turns out I may have been a little premature in my expectations. Luckily, I learned my lesson and will never again have expectations about the Tigers.
Or at least that’s what I thought until this article popped in my Yahoo today. What am I supposed to think when I read this:
Rick Knapp, the new pitching coach in Detroit, held up his hands. “We’re only 10 days into camp,” he protested. But his eyes shone. And the corners of his mouth couldn’t beat back the grin.
The last thing that anyone who roots for Detroit (the city or any of its teams) needs is hope. And that’s exactly what stories like this provide.
I prefer the “What strange disease did Joel Zumaya contract this offseason” type of story. That rings true. Even the “Fernando Rodney wrestled an alligator” story is acceptable because then you just kind of expect the worst. But all of these Miguel Cabrera looking relaxed and Dontrelle Willis actually hitting the strike zone stories have the opposite effect. They make you re-evaluate the lineup and wonder if maybe we do have a chance in an admittedly weak AL Central.
It’s kind of like the lead up to Obama’s inauguration. You keep telling yourself that he’s just a man and there’s no way he can right all the wrongs of the past eight years overnight. But you can’t help it. You hear the news. You see what’s happening. And you start to think, well, maybe it could happen.
No, not for me that kind of optimism. I’ll take my seat over here, firmly ensconced in the misanthrope camp. Rick Porcello looks good? So did Dontrelle. Cabrera is finally coming into his own? We thought the same of Renteria. With both Rodney and Zumaya healthy, the most heated battle is for the closer position? I’m sure Zumaya has a travel version of Guitar Hero with him.
See, I’ve been a fan of the Lions and Tigers for long enough to know better. So, how about you check in with me at the All-Star break and then we can chat about Porcello, Cabrera and Zumaya, ok? Until then, I’ll just be sitting here with my Ozzie Guillen voodoo doll, trying to figure out what crazy thing I can make him say next.
Ask anyone in my Southside Chicago neighborhood who they’re voting for this November and you might hear about a lot of Jim Thome/John Danks ticket write-ins. For now. While we all know how easily the magnanimous momentum of baseball can change, what we know for sure, at this exact moment in time, is that the Chicago White Sox are indeed the AL Central Champions.
So, EAT IT, Mr. Krause!
While you’re doing that… our dear RSBS readers would like to know the answers to the following:
What hurts more, Al? The Sox winning the Central or your Tigers being puke-spitting awful and finishing in dead last?
What keeps you up at night, Al? Not being able to win an argument or not putting in the time to win an argument?
Wrap your head around those inquiries, Mr. Krause. I understand that you may need a minute or a day, year, decade. That’s fine. By the time you’ve formulated your meticulous thoughts, I bet Sarah Palin will be writhing in her own talking points as she prepares to take on Senator Biden on Thursday night.
But hopefully, we’ll hear what you have to say by the time the Cubs drop their first game to the Dodgers.
It’s all in the timing, my man.
So go ahead. You’ve done it before. Sure, go ahead and hate me, Al, but don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.