Ah, August, the herald of my fleeting mortality!
The unicorns are whispering to each other and I can only assume it's because they're planning some sort of special hullabaloo for my birthday and it's frustrating because they think they're so damn sneaky but they can't whisper for shit. Plus, whatever they end up doing, they'll just muck it up anyways. They have hooves for Christ sakes.
The unicorns have magical powers but they insist on wrapping the gifts themselves and it just ends up looking like a box that's been bludgeoned by a bunch of hammers. Then I have to put on this big production about how 'surprised' I am and it's...it's just awful. They mean well though and I do appreciate the effort...you know...considering the hooves.
In essence I think August is my time for reflection. What better way to reflect...than a water cooler!
WHAT THE HELL?: Today's 'What the Hell?' is brought to you in large part by Canada. Kids, David Price is now Canadian. In the latest twist in the Twilight Zone, David is back in the AL East and he's playing for the godforsaken Blue Jays. Look, Toronto is a storied franchise with a long history of success and...oh who the Hell am I kidding...this is just ridiculous. I'm almost positive that most casual baseball fans had no idea that there was even a MLB team in Canada and now one of the premier pitchers in baseball is playing there.
I'm sure Toronto is a nice enough place for anybody born there and doesn't know anything different but let's cut the shit here. David Price isn't a Blue Jay. John Olerud was a Blue Jay and he would wear his batting helmet on the base path. That's a Blue Jay. David Price has style...he has finesse...and he's also a free agent after this season. We already ripped my heart out last year when the Rays traded him to Detroit in the Zero Hour of the trade deadline so why not finish the job? Why must we prolong the inevitable? Canada might think that they are sparing me with this trade but the fact is that I've been on borrowed time since last year. Just put him in pinstripes already.
After this season, and free agency begins, and David inevitably and officially becomes a Yankee I'll probably vomit multiple times. And it's not exactly a picnic right now. Having this fear in the pit of my bowels (I didn't put it there, it just sort of happened) is like knowing ahead of time that Anakin is about to take his talents to South Beach and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
I'm getting all jumbled here...you see what this shit does to me?! Do you see?!!
HAH!: Today's 'Hah!' is brought to you in large part by the great state of Texas. Texas, what can I say, you really know how to mix things up at a singles party. When the rumors were flying around that Cole Hamels was headed to Los Angeles, Texas swooped in and said "Hey! We're in. How much?"
Now I don't know the GM of the Philadelphia Phillies but he's probably a sad sonuvabitch and he probably wakes up each morning saying to himself, "I gave up the family hotdog cart for this?" But not even he could contain his laughter when he picked up the phone and it was Texas on the other end. In fact I'm pretty sure he answered, "Texas, whom?"
Sometimes in the world of baseball, especially at the trade deadline, lines get muddled and teams aren't exactly sure if they should be buyers or sellers. The Rangers took a page from the book of their previous owner, George W. Bush, and decided that they would do the exact opposite of what they should. So they traded for Cole Hamels, a guy that's just gonna smoke all their weed and eat all of their chips. When Arlington burns to the ground at least now we'll know it's because Hamels tried to drunkenly light all of his farts on fire.
Be forewarned, Texas, you are now in the rough, manicured hands of the Devil. Well, you probably were before, but now you definitely are.
THAT'S ENOUGH BASEBALL: Today's 'That's Enough Baseball' is brought to you in large part by the disillusioned states that make up New England.
Arrogance. Entitlement. Extraction from reality. God syndrome. Douchebags. These are just a handful of terms that can be used to describe the New England Patriots, specifically their owner, coach, and quarterback... or as they are colloquially known, "The Holy Trinity of Smug Assholes".
Roger Goodell recently upheld Tom Brady's suspension of four games for deliberately deflating footballs in the AFC Championship game and it was in large part due to Brady destroying evidence, a move that Brady picked up from his old pal, Aaron Hernandez. The guilty party then went on the offensive and Tom Brady posted to Facebook to confirm that's how big of a douchebag he is. He thought that the best way to proclaim his innocence was to make a Facebook post. I'd like to think that right after he posted it, he liked it, shared it, and then went and stared at himself in the mirror for six hours.
Instead, Tom said that he switches phones every four months (because those FBI taps are ruthless on the drug trade) and that he gave the NFLPA permission to seek a federal court ruling on the decision to uphold the appeal of the initial four game suspension. I agree, wholeheartedly with this, because if there's one thing that tax money needs to go to it's proving whether or not some air was released from some footballs and whether or not a man is lying about it. Weak infrastructure? Not in the good ol' US of A!
FEDERAL COURT to determine the air pressure of footballs. Tom Brady has become the quintessential 'It's the principal that matters to me' when really he's become the guy that's guilty in the public court. Tom said that neither he nor the Patriots did no wrong. So why the suspension of the two ball boys that Tom was texting? Why the sudden destroyed cell phone on the day that he was to meet the investigator? I know cell phone contracts can be a bitch but there's easier ways around that, Tom.
At least some things never change in the Twilight Zone. New England has no chance to turn back now. They've lied, they've been caught in the lie, and have lied to cover up being caught in the lie. The only logical choice from here is to keep lying. Deny till you die.
By the way, the unicorns say you aren't invited to my birthday party, so take that, Tom Brady.
Float on, graceful swans.
21.
