San Diego Padres 10: Minnesota Twins 1: A Giant Batch of “Don’t Care”

Still young in twins, Joe Ryan, totally stunned tonight, Homer after Homer, is part of the learning process. Perhaps the twins will make deals before next week’s deadline. My guess, though, is that Falvine would never bet on a questionable team. Thus, you never get over a questionable team.

This is my attempt at the internal notes:

1: Have you ever wanted Kyle Garlick to be a frontrunner? Do you enjoy guys with fun splits, and all kinds of opportunities to joke about vampire lore? Well, you ruined baseball. I tell you, Garlic does nothing, nothing, it’s practically a weak human being familiar here.

With two outs, Luke Voit (John for short and the “g” of being attacked by the Appalachian Backward + currently owns the Appalachian Backward Policies) Big Dongs off Ryan. Padres 2-0

2: nothing

3: Because there’s time to kill in this run, Gresham

And that’s all I have. Is there a Gresham in the Padres squad? (Legal novels, something about that). Think? somewhere? Which gives flight bulge. I gave up on caring.

Let’s face it, twins wouldn’t be much without much help in the trade deadline, and unless I was very surprised, I wouldn’t have that help. Why would corporate executives risk doing anything when they could do the same thing that every other corporate executive does? In this case, never make any move worth taking because the twins are not quite “out there” yet, which would justify such a risk.

Thus, ensuring that the twins will not be well enough to justify such a risk in the near future. And that’s the logic by which you can see many, many re-manufactures and restarts of other things.

Buttons: Buxton hit Homer

The losers: everyone else, mostly Falvine

I really wanted to have a fun late night game series on this one. Joel, Brandon, Norve, Miccardi, and others wanted it, too. We have a bobkus. Falvine, please just quit in season already, don’t get us up after our bedtime.

I’m fine with playing strings on missed seasons. I enjoy chatting with people here. It’s more fun, though, if we all admit that we don’t think twins stand a chance at anything…or, if we’re comfortable with the many chemical stimulants, we discuss how twins might have a chance at anything.

Twins this season have no chance. You know that, and I know that. Or alternatively, let’s look at their chances, by scientifically determined probabilities:

Playoff action: 50%, up from 5% via Tony Larosa, continues to be a relentless all-around team

Playoff win: 5%, and that’s basically only if Buxton stays together via scotch tape (shout local businesses, buy me tickets, 3M)

Playoff Series win: hahahaha Are you kidding?

I’ll give you my analogy, or metaphor, or whatever, on the chances of the twins doing anything but boring bows in this postseason.

I was on my way home from work today and stopped in to buy a treat for Mrs. James at the store. I had a brutal need to pee. I’m a professional driver, and I’ve been back from Lake St Paul to Woodbury to White Bear Lake to St Paul nonstop. At rush hour, through the chaos of construction. We talk for hours.

When buying the reward, I got stuck behind two people in the shop getting MegaMillions lottery tickets. I wanted to yell at them, “Let’s save some time. Hand me the money, I’ll tell you no, I didn’t win, and we’ll all be on our merry way.”

But I didn’t. I’m nothing if I’m not polite. Instead, they stared at the back of their heads with the fury of 1,000 supernovae explosions and one bladder distended, and that didn’t speed things up to any noticeable degree. To make it at home, take a nap, and wake up in time…what? Bottom line this s**t? Why does f**k bother? I loved discussing movies with the people in the game threads, the synopsis is useless.

“The first half, the twins” and that noise cancelled, is not worth writing. Or clicking with your fingers on the phone.

(Because it’s, I’m generally in favor of flicking. But it’s different from typing, it’s slower. That slower isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it depends.)

Danjit, you stared angrily at the people in front of me in the store because of this? Crazy that they were ignoring the odds so obvious against? Well, when we project a silent rage to the back of someone’s head, we are allowed to be as irrational as we want, I say.

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