Water Cooler, Asseeeeemblllleeeeeee!

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.

Tricking The Devil

After I posted my last piece to the Studly Pastures, my girlfriend promptly came downstairs and pointed out all the mistakes that I made, including the most glaring that I repeatedly (and by repeatedly I mean each and every time) misspelled Caitlyn Jenner's name.  I spelled it with a K because I went ahead and assumed that like EVERYBODY else in the family whose name starts with K that she would follow suit.

Well, kids, just like the old saying goes "When you assume you make an ass out of yourself for misspelling a transgender's name over and over again throughout a blog post."

An hour later she asked me if I had any intentions of changing it and I sat there and thought about it for about three seconds and then promptly said, "Nahhhhhh."  Let it be.  Maybe the good people will think it's some sort of weird intentional joke.  It could be funny...right?  Besides...what's the worst that could happen?

WHAT'S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?!

I must be losing it in my old age because I forgot for just a split second that I lived in the Twilight Zone and there would be consequences and repercussions to my actions.  I had upset the balance of the force and tilted it ever so slightly in favor of the Dark Side.  I never thought that an old foe, long cast into obscurity, would take the small window of opportunity to rise to power yet again.

I've become as power blind as Yoda.

If you've read this blog, on at least the two occasions I've mentioned it prior, then you are already privy to this information:  I despise Cole Hamels.  Back in 2008 he sold his soul to the Devil to rise up and smite my Tampa Bay Rays in their one and only World Series visit.  I slunk back into the darkness and began my elaborate plans to make sure Hamels lost his arms in a tragic wheat-thresher 'accident' but then I remembered...you don't sell your soul to the Devil without him collecting payment at some point.

Sure enough, enter 2015, and Cole Hamels is still toiling away with the Philadelphia Phillies only now they're phucking terrible and the worst team in baseball.  Before yesterday, Hamels was 0-4 in his last 9...9! starts and had an ERA over five!  The writing powers that be said that Hamels looked "disinterested" on the mound.  Hah!  It was done.  Back in 2008 I really really wanted Hamels' career in baseball to end with an Arby's franchise that he would have to eventually work at to keep it from going bankrupt.  I guess I really wanted to one day be in the position to say to Cole Hamels, "I said Horsey sauce, you moron!  How hard is your job really?"  I feel like that would crush him.

But I guess the next best thing would be for him to have to be stuck with his beloved Phillies only no matter what he did--no matter how he pitched--he would always lose.  You lose!  You get nothing!  GOOD DAY SIR!

Then the whispers started and wouldn't fate have it...Cole Hamels popped up as a trade deadline name.

What?  Cole Hamels?  Don't these people know you can only sell your soul once to the Devil?  How in the Hell is his name popping up as a hot commodity at the trade deadline SEVEN years after he was last relevant?  There are baseball players that disappear into obscurity every single day and it's only years later that we ask ourselves in passing "Hey, whatever happened to so and so?" and why can't that happen to Cole Hamels?  The ONE guy (other than Alex Rodriguez) who I want to disappear and he's the chosen one to be resurrected? 

Then I thought about it and realized it wasn't that big of a deal.  So what if he gets traded?  He's still Cole Hamels.  If the Phillies want to release him from perdition and get a ham sandwich in return, who I am to deny them?  That's roughly what I equate his worth to anyways...a ham sandwich.  And not even a good ham sandwich.  So there.

Then yesterday happened and Cole Hamels threw a no-hitter against the Cubs.  You know what probably raises your stock a helluva lot right before the trade deadline?  A goddamned no-hitter.

The best part, the quintessential moment that really makes you remember where you are, came in the ninth with two outs.  Hamels was one out away from his no-hitter when rookie phenom Kris Bryant blasted a pitch to dead center.  The Phillies center fielder, whose name will not sully my unicorn stables, misplayed the ball horribly.  It was as if he was expecting the ball to just clear the fence and he was going to go for a heroic jump-up-the-wall and save the day maneuver.  The only problem was that the ball was not going to clear the fence and would fall feet short on the warning track.  He realized this about a fraction of a second before the inevitable, went to make the adjustment, and slipped on the dirt that makes up the warning track.  When he slipped, he fell forward, and just managed to get his glove out in time to snag the ball before it hit the ground and Cole Hamels secured his legacy as the only man to sell his soul to the Devil twice.

Damn you, Twilight Zone...damn you to Hell.

Don't think it's lost on me that he did it against the Cubs.  My favorite player to hate no-hit my favorite team to hate and that's such a weird flux of emotions that I'm not sure what to do.  Cry and pee?

All those years when Tampa was the worst team in baseball and the best thing we got to celebrate was losing to Cole Hamels in the World Series.

Sigggghhhhhhhhh.

The only solace I can take is that maybe this is a blessing in disguise.  Maybe his once again fame will lead him to a lady of the night and they will spend the night together only the lady is really three raccoons in disguise and they'll chew his face off in the morning.  At least Hamels can never take my dreams!

Float on, graceful swans...except you Hamels...stop floating.

27.

Cole Hamels, Douchebag M.D.

The Washington Nationals played the Philadelphia Phillies last night in a baseball game.

I shouldn't give enough care about this to even know that they played each other, let alone write about it on the Studly Pastures, but something interesting happened in the game.

Go figure.

The Nationals have what most baseball critics consider the best prospect in baseball in Bryce Harper.  Yep, his name is Bryce Harper.  I know he sounds like some guy with bleach blonde hair working at Pacific Sun trying to sell you flower patterned board shorts but he's actually pretty legit.

Well, at least he will be, for right now he's only 19.

When I was 19, my major achievement was failing a statistics class.  I showed up to class and the professor said, "today we are going to learn about discrete random variables."  I threw my hands up in the air and said, "that's it, I'm done!" and promptly walked out of the class.

So Bryce is getting some playing time in the majors this season due to injury to regular left-fielder Ryan Zimmerman and last night he faced against Phillies pitcher Cole Hamels.

I think I need to warn you before you read the rest of this post.  I am completely biased from this point on.  I hate Cole Hamels.  I think he's a douchebag.  He had one good season, back in 2008, and played good enough to make sure that my Tampa Bay Rays didn't win the World Series.  Screw Hamels.  I hope he gets penis rot and trampled by a stampede of wild boars.

Anyways, Harper stands in the batter's box in the first inning of a baseball game in May and Hamels pops him square in the back with the ball.

What?  It's May.  It's the first inning.  It's the Nationals, they were a Canadian baseball team ten years ago for crying out loud.

Side note: By the way, how torturous was it being an Expos fan?  They were never good, not even close to being good, got threatened with bankruptcy, got threatened with being moved to Puerto Rico, and then eventually they just imploded the whole thing and started a new team in Washington D.C.  Yikes.

After the game, Hamels tells the press that, yep, he hit Harper on purpose.

What?  You admit it?  How big of a dumb ass are you exactly?  Have you never heard of deny till you die?

What a colossal douchebag Cole Hamels is.  Now you're going to be suspended and nobody is exactly sure why.  You intentionally hit a 19-year old square in the back with a baseball in the first inning of a meaningless game...for intimidation purposes?

I'm not defending Bryce Harper because, well, if I was a pitcher I would be intentionally hitting batters left and right, so I get it.  For example, Alex Rodriguez would never see a pitch from me.  I would hit him with the ball every time he stood against me until they threw me out of the game.

But I would never admit to intentionally doing it.  That's only something morons do.

The only thing that I can think of is that Cole Hamels woke up yesterday and realized that he was only relevant for a brief period of time four years ago and decided he would do something bold to try and bring himself back to relevancy. 

Well Cole, you've made it.  You're on the Studly Pastures, congratulations.

Then Harper stole home on you.  Congratulations.  Only a douchebag intentionally hits somebody and then lets them steal home on them.  I really wish that after Harper slid into home and was ruled safe that he jumped up, looked at Hamels, and yelled, "Suck it!" and did the hand gesture where you chop yourself in the crotch.

I really don't know how to describe it better than that.  I hope you all know what I'm talking about and don't consider me some sort of weirdo for that whole crotch chopping thing.

Suck it, Hamels.