Last night, your heavenly/diabolic peanuts/co-authors were out for a movie and a drink or two.

At this time we discussed the crappiness of the West coast. The fact that games don't start until 9, and after getting up at 6 or so for work we're so tired that we can't make it past 10:30 or 11 o'clock. Which means we can't see certain things, like bullpen implosions, or the fiery-eyed Joe Nathan who fired a throw past Brendan Harris to let two runs score.

We missed this. Why? Not because we don't love the Twins, but because the West Coast is evil. It sucks the will and brilliance out of our boys, and for this must be left in ashes...like Atlanta or Pheonix...uh...I mean A Pheonix...yeah...that's it...I have no plans to burn down the city of Pheonix, Arizona...no plans at all...

Anyway...my nefarious resemblance to George Sherman aside, the Twins are almost done with this stinktastic road trip, and a win today paired with a beatdown of the Blue Jays in the Great White North should help us get our groove back. Until then we will be happy to cheer for todays game and throw down with our next batch of enemies as thoroughly as ever.

So if you don't like that we haven't written in a while just remember. Don't blame us. Blame the shifting tectonic plates that created a western coast of the North American continent.



I was at work, worrying about how the Twins would do.

Then I was working out, watching a rather blase first inning.

Then I came out of the shower, and we had a one run lead.

An hour or so later, after a seemingly interminable bus ride (note to self...never ride rush hour bus again) I arrived at my grandparents house to find us trailing by a run.

Morneau doubles, Randy "Poppa Bear" Ruiz singles, "Mountain Man" Jason Kubel knocks in Morneau, then Brian "Inconsequential Since San Diego" Buscher knocked in two pinch runners to give us the lead.

My grandpa and I were happy.


our bullpen started sucking again. I mean, I love you Eddie, but back to back doubles? Not reassuring.

Fortunately Denard's is offering a sale on hoses. Yes! Hoses!! The kind that shoot out of right fielder's arms and make over powering throws that douse rallies in seconds! Get your hose for only $2. PLUS, Denard's is offering chain link fences from Redmond's Home Plate Security. Stop those pesky runners in their tracks and do it all in Ol' Man Redmond Style. 
Once again, we here at Peanuts from Heaven Inc. urge everyone to:  SAVE BIG MONEY AT DENARD'S!


Auussie, Aussie, Aussie!


I'm sorry, but you see...I've had extensive experience with Australians the last few years. My boss was Australian, and he called me: "A ripe shite in the arsehole of the world." I had Australian students who, when asked what their favorite part of class was, replied: "when you were silent!"

Don't get me wrong, I like the jokes, and I like my Aussie "mates", but it was a little frustrating. And so, when I found out that Seattle's starting pitcher tonight, one Ryan Rowland-Smith, is actually Australian, I had one reaction--and one reaction only.

Mr. Rowland-Smith: please, please, please, take your suddenly good pitching, and Adrian Beltre's suddenly good bat, and all your dirty rotten Starbucks-sucking, flannel-wearing, body-odor-reeking, nappy-goatee-having...(wait, scratch that one), crazy-ass-train-whistle-at-the-stadium-blowing teammates back to the Matilda-waltzing, Kelly-Gang-Worshipping, Mel-Gibson-producing, didgeriedoo-doodling, barren-cultural wasteland of a native land.

Either that...or lose. You did a nice job giving up two runs a minute ago...but you still need to remove Mr. Beltre. I will withhold further judgement on your decency as a human being until the game ends.


Piggyback reporting...

Following on after K's brilliant analyses of our new trade for Everyday Eddie (I wholeheartedly endorse any game that involves mocking/bemusedly indulging one of our players), we must add that, in order to have Eddie in the pen, the Twins have to let Mike Lamb go. Peanuts from Heaven Inc. can now exclusively report the final minutes that "The Grizzled Prospector", Mike Lamb, spent as a member of the Twins organization.

After giving the rally monkey one final finger of disgust, the Twins players walked out of the stadium in Los Angeles or Anaheim or Mars or wherever the heck they were.
MORNEAU: Dang! I really thought we could get 3 out of 4!
MAUER: Darn! I really thought we would show that stupid Rally Monkey who's boss.
LAMB: Dag Nabbit! I really thought you fellers would let me get some playing time!!
ALL: [Sigh]
LAMB: Watch'all sighin' fer? Did another possum get away? D'yall wan' me ta cook ya up some rattlesnake vittles?
MAUER: No, Mike...no...we just thought you weren't...
LAMB: Weren't wha?
MORNEAU: Weren't going to make it up to Seattle with us.
LAMB: Shucks fellers, no need to fret...I jes' lovvvvvve Seattle! I get hits there that make me so gosh durn happy I jes' gotta dance!!!
ALL: [As Lamb begins to dance and blither incoherently] No...Mike...don't...
GARDY: Say Mike, how would you like to take a special route to Seattle?
LAMB: Hee-gee-heeee-hee-gee-heeee-hee-gee-WHAAAAAA?!
GARDY: I thought you might like to ride in my car...past some really great farms up state. Places you can run, and play...
ALL: And Dance
GARDY: As much as you want.
LAMB: Gorsh! Sign me up!! I'd do anything to get back on that dusty trail with you there skipper!
GARDY: Yeah...that's...great.
GARDY: Mike...Mike...Mike...please stop sticking your head out of the window.
LAMB: But it's fun! 'Sides, all the mayflies I'm a eatin' are good protein!
GARDY: Great-HEY! Look! Here's one of those fields
LAMB: Whoop-dee-whee-hee-hoohoohoooey!! 
[The car door opens and Lamb leaps out of it dancing about, giggling, and continuing his inane babble, Gardy looks out the window, smiles, sighs at all the lost jokes that I will never get to
 make at Mike Lamb's expense, then smiles at the fact that we don't have to endure his erratic offense, defense and facial hair, flattens the accelerator and zooms off towards Seattle. Lamb continues dancing/blathering to his little heart's content until he finds a whiskey spring and starts to wash himself in Jack Daniels.]

Waxing Nostalgic

When I went to Twins games back in college, my friend Dave and I made our own fun in the 9th inning by counting the number of times Eddie Guardado touched his balls (not baseballs. The other ones). I think we once reached 50.

Now, a whole new generation of Twins fans will get to discover this joyous pastime, and people like me can relive the fun!


Conspiracy Theory part Deux

Peanuts from Heaven operatives have learned the following shocking secret:

Yesterday, before the rest of the team arrived, ex-Twins outfielder Torii Hunter was discovered by Right Fielder/Torii-Hunter-in-Training Denard Span in the Twins clubhouse. Hunter was curled in the fetal position with the big screen tv fizzling and his special "I Heart the Twins" blanket clutched in his right hand.
"Torii...?" Denard asked softly, shaking Hunter gently by the shoulder.
"uhnh, nhuhn, NO LOCKE DON'T TRUST BEN LINUS!! Oh...uh...hey Denard."
"Torii, what are you doing here?"
"I was watching Lost again."
"How long have you been here?"
"I came down here after y'all left. I kinda wanted to see if Nicky P. would give me a little cash for missing that catch."
"Did you do that on purpose?"
"Not on purpose. But...I mean...when I was running for it, I thought about the old days when Nicky P and I would run through the fields of Minnesota, laughing, skipping, jumping about and whatnot. Then I leapt and thought about how I taught you to jump any time you could...just because it feels good y'know?"
"Is that my teddy bear boo-boo?"
"I GAVE HIM TO YOU!! You've got to share Denard!! I can still teach you so much young paduwan..."
"Always swing away on 3-1, there's no downside!"
"Sawyer's not really a big jerk, he just acts that way to keep Kate interested in him!"
"TORII! It's okay man...you're always going to be a Twin...you're always going to be my sensei...you're always going to be someone we love. We know you've got a new team, and sometimes seeing old loves is hard...but whether we win or lose these games, we'll always love seeing you."
Torii smiled then, his trademark beaming grin looking into the face of his protege, all grown up...
"Shane Loux's slider sucks."
"Okay, Torii, I'll look out for it."
"Wanna watch another Episode?!"
"Sure Torii...sure..."


Conspiracy Theory

I refer you to #1 in Smelly's "Reasons we should rain down polite critiques and subtle suggestions on the Angels, like Enid the Goddess of Passive Agressive Behavior" explaination.

Is it possible that maybe, just maybe, as he missed a game-deciding catch, that Torii hunter looked over at little Nicky Punto, said "....oopsie!" and then gave him a big wink?

...no. Of course it isn't possible. He just missed the catch. But hey, a girl can dream right?


Know Thine Enemy #14: The Los Angeles Angels of Anahiem

Reasons we should rain down our terrible fury and great vengeance upon the Angels like Thor, the God of Thunder.
  1. Show down: This, as my colleague so rightly pointed out, is the beginning of a big series with THE best team in baseball. Not one of the best, not a very good team, THE best team in baseball. If we want to get to the post season, or, even better, WIN in the post season, we ought to beat some of these teams. *18 Loathing Points*
  2. Pretension, thy name is Los Angeles of Anaheim: Seriously? You could just pick one name? You couldn't go with "Los Angeles," or "Anaheim," or "California," or "Earth". Come on...make yourselves less mockable...just a little bit...come on. *22 Loathing Points*
  3. 2002: We came back from contraction, we came back in the Central, we beat the A's in the Dvisional playoffs, and then...then...we stopped winning. The Angels kept winning, and we just stopped. I DEMAND VENGEANCE! VENGEANCE 6 YEARS AFTER THE FACT! VENGEANCE!! *6 Loathing Points*
  4. The Rally Monkey: I cannot be too clear on this point. I loathe the Rally Monkey. To hell with the Rally Monkey. The Rally Monkey should be condemned to the lowest circle in Hell. It should be gnawed upon in the dark lord's frozen maw next to Brutus, Judas, and Ann Coulter. It is a pointless, irritating, noxiously overexposed bit of bile. To put it simply: I do not like it. *87 Loathing Points*
Reasons we should rain down polite critiques and subtle suggestions on the Angels, like Enid the Goddess of Passive Agressive Behavior.
  1. Torii: What can you say, the man is awesome. He was our boy, our beloved, beloved Torii. The guy who even said in the national media today: "I'll always be a Minnesota Twin at heart, they taught me how to play the game." (Check out the full article on The U.S. of A. Today)Notice, that he is still our guy, he's just wearing a different uniform, so I suggest we trade off, and Troii help us win...subtly, and we help Torii win one of three for the Angels...subtly. Maybe I'm too much of a romantic, maybe I'm a sucker who holds a special place in his heart for all his exes, but if loving Torii is wrong, I don't want to be right. *-75 Loathing Points*
  2. Get it out of the way: Knowing statistics as I do, I am aware that we will probably NOT go 14 and 0 on this road trip, so, since we have to lose some games, why not lose one or two agains the best team and then crush Oakland, Seattle and Toronto...which will be easier to do and give us more momentum. It's not ideal...but it's likely. And if we're going to have to lose to someone, it might as well be the best...rather than, you know, the worst. *-2 Loathing Points*
Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 56 Loathing Points
Also Known As: The inane yelling of cable political commentators who act as though disagreement is the equivalent of treason. (Ms. Coulter, Mr. Begala, Mr. Carville, Mr. Hannity, et. al)

Happy Trails to You....

MORNEAU: Hey Joe, are you ready?
MAUER: *zips up duffel bag* Yep, all set. Man I can't believe we're going to be away for this long... At least we get to carpool! We can play fun road games, and do Mad Libs.
SPAN: Ooooh I love mad libs.
MAUER: Hey what's that in your bag? Is that.... a fluffy teddy bear?
SPAN: *shoves bear's head back in bag and quickly zips it shut* Hey you keep your opinions to yourself man.
MORNEAU: We're not judging... Hey where is little Nicky Punto? As soon as he gets here we can leave...
PUNTO: *huffing and puffing, hauling giant suitcase* Right here guys! Woooo let's hit the trail! LAMB: Weeee-higgerty! Time to hit the old dusty trail!
MAUER: No way dude, you're staying home. Someone has to chase the cyotes away. Jebus Nicky, that's the biggest suitcase I've ever seen. It's bigger than you are!
PUNTO: *shrugs* A guy's gotta have several pairs of shoes for an occasion like this.
MORNEAU: Well anyways, let's go. We'll just have to put Nicky's suitcase on top of Brendan Harris. We can't keep our buddy in LA waiting too long.
HARRIS: *look of extreme fear in eyes* ************************************************************
*Our friends pull up to a large, awesome-looking house in LA. Torii Hunter runs out to greet them*
TORII HUNTER: Hey guys, you made it!!! *gives Justin, Joe, and Nick big hugs*
BRENDAN HARRIS: Hi!!!!!!!!!! *gives Torii a huge bear hug*
TORII: Uh I don't even know you.
HARRIS: Right. Nobody does... *sigh*
MAUER: Man, we really miss you... we miss making fun of your girl-name, and the way you always crashed so gracefully into the wall and then got hauled out on a stretcher...but mostly, we miss your beautiful smile... I miss you almost as much as I miss patting Johan on the behind. TORII: *sad face* I miss you too, guys...which is why...it's too bad that now I have to destroy you.
ALL: ...huh?
TORII: I play for the Angels now. We have the best record in all of Major League Baseball, as of last night. It breaks my heart but I can't let you leave here alive. *whips out light saber*
*suddenly out of nowhere appears Delmon Young!*
YOUNG: DAHA!!! Supraction(TM)!!!!!!!!!
TORII: Woa!!! Where'd he .... how did.... a;slefkjqpo23ra;ldfkj!!!!


How will it end? Will our beloved Twinkies be destroyed on their journey, or will Delmon Young's SUPRACTION(TM) (or maybe Denard Span's ability to actually hit the ball and get on base) vanquish the Angels and their deadly Light Sabers once and for all? STAY TUNED!!!


An explanation of the bullpen

Today was one of those great: "hey, wanna go to the ball game?" days. Made all the greater because: a) I had money to spend on going to a game, b) I had my little brother around to enjoy a game with for the first time in 2 years, c) my parents also managed to come...yes...my dad skipped an afternoon of work to watch baseball with the family.

As there was no television for today's game allow me to present the critical information.

Francisco was good but not great.
Randy Ruiz got his hand stuck in a jar of honey and announced "oh, bother!"
Our offense capitalized on a few bad pitches to get three runs across.
Opie Everett whistled dixie in bare feet out at the ol' fishin hole.
Our offense also struggled to remember not to stink when the bases were loaded.
And Livan Hernandez cried a single tear at seeing a victory in his beloved vests...though he was in Colorado at the time.

But most importantly was this insight into the Twins bullpen woes, offered by my little brother Simon, and I quote: "Dude! Joe Nathan LIVES for pressure! If it's a three run lead, he intentionally gives up a home run just to do the job better." Wondering if this was true, I used extendable ears to eavesdrop on the following conversation in the Twins Bullpen.

Boof Bonser: So I was like, "Dude, this is a Morton's Porterhouse PRIME steak! PRIME SUCKA! Only 2% of the beef in America is Prime! Of course it costs more!!"
Dennys Reyes: Obviously.
Brian Bass: Sigh...
Boof: What's wrong Brian?
Brian: I don't know, we're winning and all, it's just...
Boof: Just what?
Brian: I keep thinking of what my career counselor said to me when I was a kid.
Dennys: Did she say you should bottle beer professionally? Mine told me to open a chain of all you can eat restaurants.
Brian: Not really...she said I should avoid stress. That I worked best in quiet peaceful situations, and so I should avoid things like: Open Heart Surgeon, Air Traffic Controller, and Major League Reliever for a Pennant Contending Team.
Boof: So did mine!
Craig Breslow: So did mine!
Jesse Crain: So did mine!
Matt Gurrier: So did mine!
Dennys: So did mine! Though she said that the easy going field of big boy buffet restaurants was clearly up my alley.
Jesse: Joe?
Joe: Uh...yeah...
Jesse: Didn't yours say you should avoid stressful situations?
Joe: Uh...no.
Joe: My career counselor suggested I do things that cause most normal humans a high degree of stress.
Joe: If I didn't become a Major League Reliever for a Pennant Contending Team I was strongly considering either Emergency Medical Technician, Volcanic Eruption Luger or Olympic Calibre Platform Diver.
Joe: It's like my old Platform Diving coach, Vladmir Dibiasi told me: "Anyone can do a cannonball and be happy. But the moment you perform an hand-standing 3.5 piked sommersault...that's the moment you truly become a man."
Boof: So I'm not a man?
Joe: No, Boof, guys, you're all great. You are good enough to be Major League Relievers for a Pennant Contending Team, I know it's stressful, but you guys are good...so clearly your career counselors were idiots. You need to stop thinking about them and start thinking about us. This is a great opportunity guys, I believe in you. Do the 3.5 pike...be as great as you can be!
Boof: But I like cannonballs...
Dennys: And I like clogging the arteries of the American people with a combination of bacon, bacon-wrapped eggs, and double baconized baconbits of bacon.
Joe: But guys!
Boof: I like cannonballs...

And so it is explained. Our bullpen can be friggin' awesome if we have a gigantic lead and the game is in no way stressful. Then the game must become extremely stressful in order for Joe to be all that he can be.

So remember this for your SAT kids. Joe Nathan:Greg Louganis::Boof Bonser:Burt the Fat Guy at the City Pool. {Not that I'm making fun of your girth Boof...we love you just the way you are...now, please, pass the double baconized baconbits of bacon.}


How I Acquired my Horns

(no... get your mind out of the gutter)

It just so happens that my Smelly Partner in Blogging/Crime/other various activities works as a bartender at a rather classy downtown establishment. I innocently suggested to him that if he ever happened to serve drinks to Justin Morneau, he should take advantage of the situation to slip him a roofie and leave him unconscious on my front doorstep.
(Obviously this would have to occur during the offseason, since I would never put my own well-being before that of the coolest baseball team ever to walk the planet.

And on a completely unrelated note, the first pitch of the game last night ended up in the left field seats. If it had been hit by the Twins I'd have been doing a small victory dance around the couch...but it wasn't, which is both a good and a bad thing: 1) it put us at a deficit before anyone had even cracked their first peanut.... however 2) nobody had to see me dance.

Unfortunately we never made it up. We got a run off their closer (yay?) but it wasn't enough. And poor Opie Everett hurt his hand while resting innocently in the dugout. Hopefully tonight will be better.


Know Thine Enemy #13: The Oakland A's

Though it's one game late, it's still worthwhile to explain the reasons the Twins are so much better than the Oakland A's.

Reasons the Twins should rip apart the Oakland A's as thoroughly as Tropic Thunder ripped apart contemporary Hollywood.
  1. Moneyball: The Oakland A's had a series of very good teams in the early part of the 21st Century, owing to the strategies of wunderkid GM Billy Beane. Whose strategy was to use as many statistics as possible to determine the best/cheapest players and then sign them. The Twins also had very good teams in the early part of the 21st Century, owing to the strategy of playing well. Yet, the A's had books written about them and accolades bestowed upon them, while the Twins remain perinially overlooked. So, for Terry Ryan and all the other smart guys who were elbowed aside by mega-nerd Beane: *22 Loathing Points*
  2. Steroids: Yeah, the funniest thing about how good Beane's teams were was how many steroids they did during that time. Giambi. Tejada. Giambi (the one without the nasty stache)....hmm...so was it Beane's strategies that won games or Doc Severenson's Magical Tonic of Cattle Balls? Cheaters. *32 Loathing Points*
  3. The U-Haul A's: The A's will soon set a record as the only team in Major League History to go through 4 cities in their history. Philadelphia--too much cheese steak. Kansas City--too much ribs. Oakland--too many Raiders fans [shudder]. So they are now planning on moving into Silicon Valley, because technology incomes will never ever ever decrease....ever. I'm sure they'd feel guilty about deserting fans...if they had feelings. *12 Loathing Points*
Reasons why we should carefully rip apart the A's as daintily as a church basement lady suggests that maybe, sometimes, certain people aren't the nicest people in the world...occasionally
  1. The bond of the small markets: It's a common theme here on Peanuts from Heaven. I can't totally loathe a team so similar to our own. And much as I loathe Billy Beane, itchy-footed owners, and Doc Severenson's Magical Tonic of Cattle Balls, I acknowledge that the A's, like the Twins, have little money to play with and still do their best to put the best team possible on the field. *-28 Loathing Points*
  2. Alameda Pride: Stinky is an ex-Bay Area resident, and I know she still appreciates the subtle joys of a BART transit ride, so perhaps she will want to expand on that point. But for now allow me to give credit to my homie Pete, who simply loved to say, in the most soulful voice a glazed eyed Lutheran Bible Camp worker could muster "AL-UH-MEEED-UH!!!!". So for that, "AL-UH-MEED-UH!" *-11 Loathing Points*
Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 35
Also Known As: Parents who ignore their children...but answer their cellphones.


Great...yet not.

Dry lung...deadened lymphnodes...derelict larynxes...I'm trying to think what DL has KOed Dick and Bert.

The Twins are playing on FOX, the big FOX, spraying out to the entire nation (or the entire nation that doesn't care about the Angels), and again, two people I've come to trust and rely on are Missing in Action.

The new guys, Dick Stockton and Mark Grace, don't know what to do with themselves. Punto dropped down your average "Let's-move-Denard-to-third" bunt and Stockton nearly shat himself. Here's the transcript.

Dick Stockton: "And Punto doesn't swing the bat all the way but still makes contact!"
Mark Grace: "That's crazy!"
DS: "The ball is fair! It's not a home run! But its in play!"
MG: "Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!! WHAT DO WE DO?!?"
DS: "Now Punto's running to first base as though he thinks he can get a hit."
MG: "I--I--I can't believe it!"
DS: "There is no first baseman there! And Punto's on base!!"
MG: "Wow!"
DS: "Do you know what just happened?"
MG: "Well, in the National League, pitchers used to do that, but we assumed it was because they were little girls who were too weak to do steroids in order to hit home runs."
DS: "Really?"
MG: "Yeah, they called it a bunt, or a boont, or something."
DS: "Wow!"
MG: "Yup! These Twins are just crazy enough to try something only done in the 19th century"
DS: "My god! [Sigh] I need a smoke."

(At least Grace said the "out" call on Delmon was BS, so, I'll give him more credit on that. But Stockton called Nicky P. "PUNT-o" ) So spent were Stockton and Grace that they could barely contain themselves as the Twins strung together hits...yes...hits, singles and doubles and whatnot.

I only realize now how spoiled I am by Dick and Bert, they can explain the game, what it takes for Joe to take the ball the other way, what sign was missed by which Mariner on the bunt, how Mauer is calling the game and Baker's splitter is doing its job and Ryan Rowland-Smith is
 pitching the way Seth Rogen writes: high all the time. And they'd also manage to talk about Bert's minimal intelligence and Dick's fear of the unknown. 

Stockton and Grace, meanwhile, accurately state the very obvious things each player does shortly after they do it.
Put another way, Stockton and Grace are narrators, Dick and Bert are characters unto themselves.

So while Senors Bremer and Blyleven tend to their Diseased Leprechaun we will simply enjoy the large Twins lead and curse the DL again.


Or, now that the Twins have lost their once comfortable lead, curse Stockton and Grace, tell Dick and Bert to let the Leprechaun die with dignity and help our Bullpen find their groove again.


Down a man...

One of the hardest things about being a baseball fan is when one of your regular players goes on to the Disabled List.

It's not like football where each team has two or three back ups, or basketball where many positions are flexible (Point Guard Magic Johnson subbed at Center for a time). You get used to a person every day, doing their specialized thing, playing 2nd, or pitching the 8th inning, or hitting the dickens out of right handed pitching.

So it's kind of hard to not have Alexi Cassila around, or Michael Cuddyer, or Pat Neshak. But at the same time it's nice that you get other people who can become favorites. And while there will never be anyone with the cool facial hair of Alexi, Punto plays 2nd pretty well anyway. And while there will never be anyone as quirkily cool as Mr. Magic Michael Cuddyer, Save Big Money with Denard Span...is pretty cool in his own way. And while Sideshow Pat's wierd wind up is MIA in the 8th, it's been...oh, wait...not having Neshak has sucked this year.

Neshak's on the DL, and sadly, Peanuts from Heaven is similarly without a critical member of the team. But while Stinky enjoys the Rimrock of Montana on the Down Low, I'll do my best to hold down the fort, and be more like Span than the Bo Peepish Bull Pen.

On that note...Raul Ibanez, please stop hitting the ball so dang hard.


Sweet satisfaction via Supraction

Now that's more like it.

I'm sorry, I've just been wallowing in the wonderfulness of a world in which the Twins can beat up on the Yankees. A world where the pain-in-the-ass Pinstripers, cocky and full of themselves after besting our swordsmen in an extra inning duel the night before rested their overrated shortstop. 

How surprised they must have been when the man whom they thought they had vanquished the night before hit yet another three run home run...just to show that they could.

How distracted they must have been by the carrot-esque Iowan skanks who let loose their shrill harpy-esque cry for their beloved Jeter to return.

Lo and behold...what should happen but a Twins win and another victim to the greatness of SUPRACTION (TM)


You know what's NOT great?

Going to bed shortly before 10 in the middle of a tied Twins/Yankees game.
Being woken up by your phone when you are trying to sleep because you have to get up at 5am.
Then you are told by the offending caller who may or may not be your dad that Delmon Young just used his amazing powers of SUPRACTIONTM to hit a 3 run homer. You go to sleep peacefully dreaming of victory, and then wake up only to find that we lost 9-6 in extra innings.

Am I cynical and bitter?
Not really.
Just occasionally on this blog.


You know what's great?

Getting to use that photoshopped picture of Adam "Opie" Everett a day after you were going to.

And getting to use it because the photoshopee in question bested Portly Ponson...Sir Sidney Weighs-a-ton...Ponson the Hutt...

And it allows me to make fat jokes.

And it gives Gardy 600 career victories as manager.

And it comes against the evil bastard organization known as "The New York Yankees"

Someone, play some Cole Porter...I feel the need to twirl in my happiness.

Lord of the Dome Trilogy, Vol. I - Fall of the Dark Side

Probably the first thing I noticed at last night's game were the three overly tanned, overly loud barely legal girls a few rows ahead of me, who went "wooo" and danced to every rap song that came fuzzily blaring over the loudspeakers. Now don't get me wrong - I love me some rap music. I also like to look good when I leave the house...it's just that my version of looking good doesn't involve skin cancer and ratting my hair out with a branch from a nearby tree. Additionally, they were holding a sign that said, in neon green and pink letters, "IOWA GIRLS LOVE JETER!!"... I wanted to punch them in the throat.

They also screamed everytime Jeter came to the plate, and continued cheering when he was tagged out at first (every time) and waving their sign around. But I didn't really care anymore when we were up 2-0, and cared even less when it was 4-0.

Honestly, I almost wrote the whole game off in the 2nd inning. I was pretty much ready to stand up and go home. Usually when things like that happen, people get flustered and we are crushed under the mighty weight of the opposing offense. Luckily, we didn't.
There's something really awesome about these new, young, resiliant Twins - they don't seem to get rattled as easily.

We also played some great small ball, and I was repeatedly reminded how much I love Nick Punto. Now if only Delmon "Supraction" Young and Go-Go-Gomez could learn not to swing at every crappy first pitch, fly buzzing by their heads and nearby pigeions we'd be set!

And best of all, we beat Sidney "My name sucks so badly that nobody can even think of a good joke to make about it" Ponson. Victory!


Who's on first?

So it was a Sunday afternoon, kind of sunny and nice, and the Twins were having a pretty decent ball game. This, thought Mike Lamb, would be the perfect moment for an old prospector's jig about town, and what better audience than little Nicky Punto, all by his lonesome on second base.
MIKE LAMB: Hey there y'all, wanna see my jiggerty jig?
NICK PUNTO: Uh no... not really a good time man.
MIKE LAMB: Ar ya sure? Its a hee-hawin good time!
NICK PUNTO: Um maybe later. We're kinda in the middle of a game right now...
MIKE LAMB: Well shuks and tar-nation! Alright then I'll just gitalong back to -
...but it was too late. And poor little Nicky had to try to cover first, which isn't even technically his job. I mean, if Mike Lamb wasn't jigging around the bases WTF WAS HE EVEN DOING OVER THERE??? HOW DID WE END UP IN A POSITION WHERE OUR SECOND BASEMAN WOULD HAVE TO TRY TO PLAY FIRST BASE??? I FEEL LIKE I AM TAKING CRAZY PILLS...............................
Moral of the story: never give Justin Morneau the day off.
(I'm sorry, Justin, if you're reading this, but you should never, ever leave us again. Ever. Bad things happen when you do...)

You know what sucks?

Having a whole blog planned out in your mind when we lead by 2 in the 8th, and then having to scrap it, and your cool photoshop project because we couldn't beat a bunch of guys who looked like they were 30 years late for the prom.

So, Tony Pena Jr., I hope that your date ditches you to grind on the basketball team's back up point guard. Yeah! How did renting that limo work out for you now PUNK?!?


I'm a sad little man.


A slightly confused view of the game against the Royals

So I've been working a lot lately, and I'm a little sleepy, a little groggy and I've been watching the game and the opening olympic ceremony in a picture in picture set up. So I'm not quite sure what's going on, I need some clarifications.

Did Denard Span really run around the bases creating a quasi-calligraphic painting of a mountain?

I am fairly certain that a Chinese 8th grader dressed like an astronaut struck out Carlos Gomez with a fastball low and outside (even she knew he couldn't help but swing out it).

Has anyone seen Randy Ruiz recently? I ask because Malta's uniforms look like our road ones...maybe he just got on the wrong team plane?

Did Bert Blyleven just remind us all that Central African Republic is a Republic in Central Africa? No wait it was Bob Costas...Bert just circled the Luxembourgian Olympic delegation.

One of the Royals' players is likely moonlighting as Guatemala's flag bearer. The half-hearted swinging of the flag, a la the Royals plate discipline, gives him away.

Depending on where this is all happening Nikolas Sarkozy either just called out "hey peanut" {"eh, cacahutes!"}... or "hey, moo goo gai pan!" {eh, moo goo gai pan!}

Thank merciful heavens: Dennys Reyes just struck out Botswana, after two pitches slipped past Joe Mauer and into Vietnam.

I'm not sure which is the most confusing pairing of action and music: North Korea and Bagpipes, Furry New Zealanders and Mariachi bands, or Bangladesh and Cotton Eyed Joe.

NO! There's a Royal on every base! Charles on Third, William on Second, Henry on First and Big Bad Elizabeth II at the plate...ahhh...but Jacques Rogges got him out. And Chinese president called Henry out and started the Olympic games.

So...We won...and the games started...and I'm now officially accepting the fact that China will soon be our overlords.

Know Thine Enemy #12: The Kansas City Royals

Reasons we should toast the Royals on the olympic flame of our awesomeness:
  1. We can: It's a goes without saying (though I'm about to say it anyway) that we would like the Twins to win every single game that they play. After losing 2 out of 3 to the lowly Mariners, we need to beat up on the Royals. We can, ergo, we should. *15 Loathing points*
  2. The Powder Blues: The Royals insist on continuing to wear the light blue jerseys from their "glory days" in the 70s and 80s. As though dressing like a dweeby, ruffle shirted prom goer will bring them good luck. On behalf of everyone who has a formerly dweeby, ruffle-shirted prom-goer for a father, YOU DO NOT GET OUR MOJO! *26 Loathing Points*
  3. My owner is more of a tool than yours: There are epic battles, battles to determine control of a country (see Congo, The Democratic Republic Of), battles to determine control of a galaxy far far away (see Star Wars, The Good Ones).  Battles to determine whose owner is more of a jackass--the one who used to foreclose on farms during the depression, or the one who employed foreign children to sew shoddy clothing and then passed it off as "Made in the USA"--are not epic, are not important, but they are funny...and as valid a reason as any to cite for winning baseball games. *23 Loathing Points*
Reasons we should lightly char the Royals like a gooey piece of French Toast:
  1. Empathy: Their owner is a tool, our owner is a tool. Their team is young and scrappy, our team is young and scrappy. They have had many, many, many bad years...we have had many, many bad years. In time we will again struggle, and they will again improve...well, maybe not...but why make them feel bad? We've been there before, constant beat downs are hard to take...so just a little one will do. *-28 Loathing Points
  2. Trey Hillman: Gotta love the fact that the Royals hired their manager away from the Nipon Ham Fighters. An international man of mystery, and one who kicks the crap out of a pig product! SWEET! (Not a garden gnome, but cool) *-16 Loathing Points*
Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 20 Loathing Points
Also Known As: The Gooberish feeling of having a bandaid on your finger for over a week.


The Clubhouse Insider

After two disappointing, soul-sucking defeats at the hands of the Seattle Faux Hippies, the Twins came into today's game needing a win, but lacking the energy to get it.

The mood was sombre. The music on Delmon Young's boombox was not (as it usually is) "The Final Countdown" but instead, "Suicide is Painless". Gardy the gnome left the players to think about their situation themselves, pushing his wheelbarrow of woe. Finally someone spoke.

"D'dj'y'all wan' me to do my Jig a Jubilee?" asked Grizzled Prospector Mike Lamb.

"Not really, Mike," said Brendan Harris.

"Well too bad! It's the best thing ever! Wheeeheehee!!"

"But Mike, we've lost the last two games...we just don't think a dance of jubilee is appropriate." complained Harris, as Lamb continued to dance manically {"Hie-chi-cha! Hie-chi-chaaa-ha-hoooey!!"}

"Come on guys!" said Denard Span, rising from his chair "Mike Lamb's right..."

"You think his Jig of Jubilee is the best thing ever?" asked Harris, while Lamb continued to dance, {Yip-a-hip-a-doo-wa-french-dip!!}.

"God no," said Denard, "But we aren't going to play well if we sit here feeling sad. We won't score runs if we're too busy sobbing to run. We won't get Raul Ibanez out if we throw him beach balls to hit."

"But Denard!" cried Glen Perkins, "How can we go on? Livan is no longer here to ease my pain, and make me mojitos, and give me massages while he eats the delicious pies that my namesake restaurant chain makes."

"Glen! You will love again! Ask Dennys Reyes, I'm sure he'd like some pie" (Reyes nodded vigorously) "Besides, there's more to pitching than pie. And there's more to life than the fun we've had and the game's we've won. You've got to think about today, and more importantly, tomorrow!

"Let me tell you all my dream. My dream for today. My dream for tomorrow. My dream for everyday!!

"Today we will hit! We will run! We will throw! and we will catch! When we do all of these things, we will win! And as we win, we will celebrate! And as we celebrate we will win! As we celebrate wins and win celebrations we will excel and make ourselves great. So great, that one day, I will open a chain of stores that sell high quality home improvement goods at low prices! My name will be synonymous with saving big money and greatness! For that is what our organization is all about! Saving big money and greatness!!

The clubhouse was quiet for a moment, well, as quiet as it could be with Mike Lamb continuing his Jig of Jubilee {"yachee-chacha-parchee-zee-zee-YAHOOTZEE-YAHA!"}. Then a slow clap began from the locker of Brendan Harris, then went to Nick Blackburn, and spread slowly around the clubhouse until they raced onto the field and played their way to victory.

Today, the Twins saved big money with Denard.


Yes I am both blogging and watching mlb.com at my place of employment. Probably this isn't good for my productivity level.

we are now up 1-0 in the 2nd. I should be reassured by the fact that we're ahead but somehow I'm not....seeing as how that hasn't seemed to help us the last couple days.


Okay, another noticed element in these losses. 

Mike Lamb has hit, and hit well.

This we like. (After all his triple helped us win on Sunday, and permits me to continue using my insipid prospector voice)

But perhaps, Mike Lamb, your celebration jig is more of a distraction than an inspiration.

So if you could just save that until you score, or get to third base, or we win...all will be greatful.

Just throwing that out there.


Oh for crying out loud!

What the heck is this? We're better than the Mariners, a lot better, so much better they should be paying to watch us play.

We led by 6 last night. They came back and won 11-6.

We got two quick runs tonight and Baker has gone kablooie.

What the F-bomb? (That's a bomb which when dropped realeses pound upon pound of fudge all down the pants of our beloved Twins)

I have no explanation, I don't think the Twins have any explanation, but I have noticed a common thread:

Raul Ibanez

Raul Ibanez is the harbinger of all things potentially not good.

He hit 6 RBIs in one inning yesterday.
He just hit a 3-run home run (because apparently a 4 run home run yesterday wasn't good enough for Raul).
He's hit 176 homeruns.
I can't find anything actually mean to say about him. {Google searches for Ibanez and "mean" "jerk" "evil" or "devil" yields no results.}
So, theoretically, his goodness must help him save baristas from noxious smugitude of Seattle area coffee shops. {See the photo above--it's the Pacific Northwest's version of saving kittens from burning buildings}--a talent which apparently intimidated Justin into popping up with the bases loaded.


Okay, Raul...if you're as nice a guy as every one says you are, be nice and let us win some. You do that, and I'll cheer for you to ransack and pillage every other team in the known universe, yes even the Kabul Kamikazes, and the Venutian Vomiters.


(I assume from the fact that you just permitted Jason Kubel to hit a homerun, that you will at least consider this proposal...thank you)


What happened here? 11-6?????????
When I checked the score at around 9:30, while I was having a lovely time hanging out on my porch with my awesome friends and boyfriend, and my roommate's new puppy, we were up 4-0. Then this morning I log on to MLB.com and what doth my eyes behold? How can this be?!?

Well I tell you. Giving up 10 runs in 1 inning generally is not a good thing.
Yep that's correct - 10 RUNS IN 1 FRIGGING INNING.

I don't really want to blame Glen Perkins - a) he actually pitched pretty well except for giving up that silly grand slam to Ibanez (I mean at that point, we were still up by 1 run) and b) he is named after a restaurant that serves bottomless pots of coffee and pancakes at all ungodly hours of the morning, making it one of my favorite places on earth.
Really, I blame the bullpen. Yes I know, I've been in the habit of scapegoating the bullpen lately, but that's mainly because when we suck and give up a gajillion runs, it tends to be their fault. Also, among them is a guy with the same name as a fish, and also a guy with the last name Dennys, which in my opinion is a pale imitation of Perkins...kind of irrelevant since Dennys didn't even pitch last night...but I digress.

However, Bass is in fact one of my favorite fish (to eat), and Dennys does have pretty amazing cheese fries. Thus, I may be able to find it in my heart to forgive them. But only if we win our next 10 starts and Chicago implodes like the hatch on LOST.

Here's hoping tonight goes a little better.


Know Thine Enemy #11: The Seattle Mariners

Before beginning this edition of our enumeration of the evils of teams whose names do not begin with an M, and end with an -innesota Twins, Peanuts from Heaven would like to give a shout out to grizzled prospector Mike Lamb for hitting a triple and gleefully dancing on third base shouting out: "Our goal!! Sweet, sweet, GOAL! First place, Yipeee-kie-yie-yeah!!"

With that here are reasons why we should slam the Mariners like film critics slam anything starring Ben Affleck:
  1. Sloppy Seconds: The Mariners are actually the second team to call the Great Northwest home. First there were the Pilots, who skipped town when the cultural epicenter that is Milwaukee invited them to be the Brewers. If we can whoop up on the Brewers, the second coming of the Brewers deserves even more pain and punishing. *10 Loathing Points*
  2. The lead: Now that we have the lead in the AL Central, why would we let go of it? Any team that gets in our way must be eliminated, destroyed and left on the side of the road to die an undignified death. So while I'm sure the Mariners players are nice people, tough. *15 Loathing Points*
  3. Starbucks: I'm not quite sure how this relates to why we should beat the Mariners...but my loathing of Starbucks is such that I will use it as  justification regardless. *30 Loathing Points*
Reasons why we should politely inform the Mariners that while we're sure that they're trying hard, they can focus on doing things (like hitting, running, catching and throwing) better...then beat them:
  1. Where Twins Pitchers go to Die: Eddie Guardado, Carlos Silva, when we're done with them they find their way to Seattle, eating salmon, listening to Pearl Jam and wishing they could be Twins again, then crying softly while watching FSN north broadcasts (wouldn't you be upset if you missed . Be merciful. *-7 Loathing Points*
  2. Ichiro: Arguably the single most game changing player in baseball today. And he looks like a master spy/robo-future man. *-11 Loathing Points*
  3. They Stink: Like the Nationals, like the Padres, the Mariners are bad, very bad. They have the worst record in the American League, and after being expected to compete for a playoff berth, have been a dismal failure. But I have to say, unlike the Padres, who got stung by a bunch of injuries, and the Nationals who have gone for a youth movement, the Mariners have no one to blame but themselves. They signed overrated players to outsized contracts. They perpetually gave up prospects for less than they were worth. They are bad at every element of the game, because they were bad at judging every element of their game. It's hard to have pity for a team that seems to stink on purpose. *-3 Loathing Points*
  4. Grandma/Holly: Grandma Zoe MacKenzie is an M's fan. And a serious one. Last time I watched a game with her she told me reliever's ERAs, hitter's batting averages, and how much Richie Sexon stunk (a lot). Equally relevant, my friend Holly Hay is taking time out of wedding preparations to cheer for them. Why should we make a little old grandma and a bride to be sad?*-17 Loathing Points*
Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 17 Loathing Points
Also Known As: A DVD consistently breaking down at the climax (EVEN THOUGH I'VE CLEANED IT 90 TIMES!!)


Welcome Back

Francisco Liriano is awesome. This was established during the magical summer run of 2006. It made his injury and year off so much more painful.

Then there was a strange period of time...when Francisco was behaving, for lack of a better word, like a jerkwad. Well, not so much Francisco as his agent, Greg Genske, who threw hissy fit after hissy fit. Most of these whine fests followed the same trajectory:

Genske: "Let Francisco pitch!"
Twins: "But he's still hurt."
Genske: "Let him pitch right NOOOOOOOWWWWW!"
Twins: "He won't do very well, his arm is still hurt."
Genske: "If you don't let him pitch right now, I'll never love you ever again!"
Twins: "Okay."
Genske: "You suck, you stupid suckos!!"
Twins: "Suckos?"
Genske: "I'm going to hold my breath until you let him pitch!" [Deep breath]
Twins: "Don't do that..." [Genske's holds his breath, with his lower lip sticking out] "Greg...take a breath..." [Genske's lower lip sticks out further, his eyes water and his face goes red even more] "Greg, if you wait until he's healthy, Francisco will pitch better, and earn a bigger contract so you can get a bigger commission when he signs it."
[Genske gasps heavily expelling all his air and panting]
Genske: "For true?"
Twins: "For true..."
Genske: "Gimme money now!!!"
Twins: "No."
Genske: "You suck!!!" [Genske storms into his room to cry on his pillow and tell his Tiger Beat posters how mean Twins GM Bill Smith and Ron Gardenhire are]

Fortunately Francisco is not Greg Genske [he subscribes to Cosmo Girl and not Tiger Beat], so he's back, not pouting, not holding his breath and pitched very well until the walks in the third.

Unfortunately Francisco can't hit...but he does have Brendan Harris who, as my mother said, owed Francisco that big fat home run he just hit.

(Sadly, I'll have to got work before the game ends, so I'll leave my silliness here)


A (Last?) Love Letter, from Livan Hernandez

My dearest Minnesota,

My heart, she is broken, shatter-ed, smash-ed, hurt. I still love you, but is it true dat you no longer are loving me? 

I am no more welcome at de dome. My pina colada mixes, dey have been removed from de team refrigerator. My hammock--she--she--she is gone! Gone like de hair dat once blew back from my head! Gone like de abs I once flexed for my loves! Gone like de wind...wit de wind!! Gogo, he say something about catching de crab wit my hammock...but dat is not what my hammock is for...my hammock is for cradling my behind, lulling me to happy sleepy times, so when I pitch, I am thinking de happy thoughts.

What will be come of Livan is no important. Livan is strong, so de hurt, it will pass, de pain, she goes away, de pina coladas, dey will be made again. What is important is what happens to you my lovel-lies! Francisco? Will he be as loving to you as I have been? My leetle boys: Slowey, Perkie,  Blackie, Baker---ie? Who will tell dem dat it does no matter if you win or lose, but how you play de game, and how well you make de pina coladas! Who will teach de Twins coaches how to speak de spanish to Loco Gogo? Is dere no hope? Can I no become assistant assistant pitching coach? Do de Twins have an internship program I can apply to? Will Gardy de happy gnome be my reference?

Craigers, he thinks I am living in de past. He says I must live in de now, and let de things I love go free, and try some of his Acorn smoothie, he has a point (but not about de acorn smoothie...is icky-poo...believe me...Craigers, he is going crazy). You will be okay...and I will be okay...but please...oh please...oh pretty pretty pretty please with de pink 'prinkles on top...

Can we still be friends?


The Greatest Day of All

Yes, we won the game.

Yes, we won the series.

Yes, Jason Kubel hit a 3 run home run.

But most importantly, Gardy yelled and threw things and got kicked out of the game.

My life is complete.

(Additionally, let's leave the throwing to the GM from now on...)