Wednesday, May 20, 2009


The Gaping, Existetial Maw

So I was thinking about Camus today. You know, like I do. (I do) And I have come to the conclusion (not really, I've always thought this way about pretty much everything ever) that baseball is a Camusian exercise. That exercise being: how to live a meaningful life in a meaningless universe.

Right now, the baseball world is meaningless, formless, AND contentless (WV would have gotten a kick out of that. GD Stanford and their quarter system). Starters go 4 innings and give up 6 runs, the bullpen melts down like gallium in the palm (it is strange to behold), and the team LOBw/RISP2Out (patent pending) is about .028, and would be lower except Matt Tolbert is fearless and uses his face instead of the bat to swing.

But the project is the same. How do we make meaning out of this? Gardy just said, "Sometimes the game takes things away from you." Yes Gardy. Yes it does. So why shouldn't I, personally they mope? Why should they "get after it?" "Battle their tails off?" "Eat a balanced breakfast?"

Because, for those of you who have been following this blog intently and took to heart our Kantian theorization of baseball qua baseball as the noumena, the game being the phenomenon means it's just that. The game is there, and you know, you've tried to walk away and you can't. You keep coming back. Meaning is made is both in the jubilation of awesometime wins, and in the bone crushing agony of defeat. And so let's watch! And make some meaning.


Reading back, I realize that my made up state above doesn't make any sense, and should indeed be a high number to indicate many men abandoned on base like Buzz Aldrin on the mooon (He's been there for 40 years now, plotting).

As an aside, sorry for not doing that wacky sidebar stuff. WV does all that and I have no idea how to do any of that stuff. I can barely manage these uber-basic html tags.

Oh Joe Mauer up with RISP? Will he B the RI in very hard? He is not a human being. He's something much... more... beautiful.

Don't you make a liar out of me, Global Warming. Next time, you magnificent bastard. Next time.



Strawberries on Good Eats right now. In a few minutes, Orange cream desserts!

I'm gonna do a little photoshopping.

God, even when we do something right we do it wrong. But what is this? Cuddy Ruxpin is starting first? What hath you wrought, Ron?

OK, so I had a friend who bought a CWS hat just so he could do this to it. Anybody else remember this?

Haw haw haw.

Things feel very... ominous.


OH YES! LET'S GO BACK TO THE EXTRA GAME THEY HAD TO PLAY! That's what I need to see right now. Game 163 where I ripped my still beating heart out of my own chest and then didn't know what to do with it.

Roy Smalley's story about John Danks, and I know you think the same thing, intrepid reader(s): The way he started that it could have been in some small magazine of pornographic essays.

I think I just heard some background voices from the mics about Tom Hanks. Hey, let's go to the ballpark and give reviews of movies where Tom Hanks has a doughy face and awful haircut!

It is better for me to listen for these things than watch Gomez swing at balls that bounce in front of the plate.


"I think the whole infield could pick the ball up before Red got home." I want to have dinner at his house, where he barks at his wife all nights and talks to his vegetables like they're people.

Alexei Ramirez, last seen as an alien in the fourth Indiana Jones movie (that never happened by the way). Or the diminutive alien fella in Harvey Birdman, if anybody watched that.

My favorite thing right now: The dudes in the front row that you can see behind Corky, stacking their beers up in front of them. They came to par-tay!


Oh gross. It's dog day. A close second in the "most disgusting idea for a game ever" competition after fountains of raw sewage being aimed at the crowd.

Span just cold messin' with Danks' mindhole.

I'm gonna peruse some google templates. Oooh, Mega Man!


Awesome. My media player will occasionally just stop and say it's a commercial break. WHAT ABOUT CLICK IT OR TICKET?


Look at how the Buehrle-lap sack rolls.

How can Mauer be 0-2? Well I mean, I get it, but you know, how?

Did Morneau make the third out or is my player being all janky lo-fi, who the hell knows? I guess that's impossible because Morneau is the second batter of the inning hmmmmmmmmm?

But then it cut back in and Morneau walked and what kind of shithole media player is this?

"Justin not a threat to go." Do it, good Dr. Do it.

Alexei's all smiling like I meant to do that. What are you, a cat?

Jason Kubel! And Morneau, I know you hustled all the way, but how awful was that throw by J-Dye? Bert just said it was outstanding but uh.... it was about halfway up the first base line as I saw it.

What is this? This execution with RISP? Of offense, with bats?


Welp, so much for the lead. Knew that as soon as he swung the bat.

I'm going to take a break for the remainder of this half inning. I'm not going on strike, just... skulking around my apartment for a bit.

OK now I'm on strike.

I'm guessing that's supposed to say "existential"?


But sad game.
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