Warning: Contains Expletives

Well kids, the dreaded month of June is almost over and I simply cannot wait.

As a wee lad roaming the luscious green fields and prairies of America's heartland and blah blah blah...I hate the summer time.  Get ready for two months of strictly baseball highlights and hot dog eating contests.  While I do like baseball, I really only like MY team and could give two craps about the awesome play some other team made, Sportscenter.  Oh, Manny Machado made a cool grab on a blooper?  I'm just upset that his wrist didn't snap.  Hey, Ichiro Suzuki hit a walk-off home run?  Even Yankee fans find that appalling.

The College World Series might as well be daytime television.  It's confusing, boring, and the named characters always prevail.  I'm pretty sure UCLA won and I say pretty sure because the format on how they determine a winner is pretty much how the BCS rankings work: it's purely random.  Kudos to UCLA but I'm sure the congratulatory card from John Wooden would have read, "Congrats on your first title, UCLA baseball, I think it's really cute."

Hockey is over and I say this with full respect but THANK GOODNESS.  I'm sorry, I'm not a hockey fan, but I love hockey fans.  I understand your admiration and genuine love so I get pissed off when Gary Bettman decides to dick around with that.  I don't hate hockey, I hate Bettman, and I hate the system that he's currently utilizing.  When a great event like the Stanley Cup finals rolls around, and Bettman is presiding, and fans are going nuts, and television ratings are high, I can't help but think, "You FOOLS!  This is what he wanted all along!"

However, if you find yourself locked in a room with David Stern, Gary Bettman, and Satan with a loaded pistol with two bullets (I will probably find myself in this scenario), what you do is shoot Bettman twice and try to convince Satan that Stern is after his job.  That's right, the NBA is done now too.  Kudos to San Antonio for collectively shitting the bed and letting, er, um, excuse me, "letting" LeBron hold claim to his second title.  But most importantly is that Stern now goes into his "nesting" period to prepare for next year's harvest.  I'm still not convinced that he's retiring.  Taking David Stern away from the NBA commissioner job is like taking Paula Deen away from a man that shits butter...they aren't going anywhere until your ass is chewed off.  I won't even be satisfied when he does step down because he's probably just manipulating someone more powerful than him to upset the balance in the force.  And if you didn't get that blatant Star Wars reference here's the gist: I think that David Stern is the Sith Lord.

Now back to the MLB.  It's June.  The Tampa Bay Rays play in the AL East (the best division in baseball) and I'm supposed to care over the peanut squabbling?  Come talk to me in the fall when shit gets real and I start drinking because the Dolphins are doing so terribly and the Rays are on the cusp but juuuuuuusssst can't seem to reach it.

So what do we do until the NFL comes back?  Hell if I know.  All I know is that the Studly Pastures anniversary is coming up in a couple weeks and I feel like the fat girl on the couch, wearing sweat pants, and crying into a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream (I chose that flavor because if you don't like it, you're a weirdo).

Maybe we should get a hobby.  I mean, working here on the unicorn stud farms tends to take up most of my day, but there's always the quiet aftermath.  What then?  I heard dream catchers are a fun project.  But that's kind of lame and then after you make them, what are you going to do?  Hang them on your wall?  Get a booth at the flea market?  You can't do that and expect people to still talk to you.

Alright kids, just grab a cold one, hunker down and watch some Netflix (they aren't paying me, I swear) and I will be back in July to celebrate myself.  Take care.