Deadline's coomiiiiin'--

Fans you better hide your heeeeaaarrrrt! Your lovin' heeeeaaaarrrt!

Look, we all know the story here. We want a trade. Gardy wants a trade. The players want a trade. But try as Bill Smith might, there's just not a team out there who will give us a quality infielder or pitcher in exchange for a pile of magic beans. (Note to self: do not invest as heavily in magic bean futures next year)

Our trade targets are once again a long list of the overpriced and untouchable:
Freddy Sanchez--snapped up by the Giants (would have cost Swarzak or better)
Marco Scutaro--verboten unless Roy Halladay moves (which he won't)
Jarrod Washburn--The Yankees want him, which means we don't stand a chance.
Chad Qualls--Way too pricy
Michael Wuertz--Local boy, kept under lock and key by Moneyball Ogre Billy Beane
Orlando Cabrera--Aging and being treated by Moneyball Ogre Billy Beane as though he were the second coming of Honus Wagner.

Deadline's coming and the cards say: A broken heart!

Let's go and get the Angels regardless, eh fellas?


Sweeps and Duct Tape

First things first: SWEEP BITCHESSS!!!

Moving on.

Directly in front of me on my cube wall is a two-page spread, torn out from the April 6 Star Tribune, which features Perkins, Liriano, Baker, Slowey and Blackburn (looking totally bad-ass) and a tag-line which reads: "Up in Arms: the Twins have one of the most anonymous - and effective - starting rotations in baseball. The five are good friends who became a unit last season, and they're ready to get the Twins back to the playoffs."

...who would have thought that by the end of July we'd be trying to piece together our starting rotation with the baseball equivalent of tape and some Elmers glue. Throwing Duensing in there had a definite "Look ma, I fixed it!" feel to it - very similar to when my caretaker decided to keep an invading squirrel out of my living room by slapping some boards on the window, putting a few strips of duct tape in random places and calling it good.

Luckily, it all turned out fine. My apartment is still squirrel-free, and Duensing did what we needed him to do - put in five solid innings before handing things over to Ze Ubermensch, Jesse Crain.

I'm pretty sure the credit for our win on Monday goes primarily to whoever put butter all over the gloves of White Sox infielders - Butter Gloves brought to you by Carlos Gomez, who apparently used the same butter to send his bat on a death mission into the stands.

Credit for Tuesday goes to Karma. I mean, one guy can only get so many outs in a row - clearly, the universe owed Buehrle some hits. Deal with it Mark - you got your "perfect game" and your "major league record" already... give us a series win and we're happy.

Credit for yesterday's win goes to small ball and stellar relief pitching - good old Twins baseball. That's what we like to see :)
In conclusion - squirrels in your living room are bad. Fixing things with duct tape is not ideal but occasionally it gets the job done.

Have a lovely off day.



So I just checked MLB.com and discovered that Liriano is NOT in fact starting tonight.

Instead we have..........

wait for it...........

wait for it............................



I'm starting to worry that our starting rotation is being cursed one by one. Or given the plague.

I'm skeptical of this whole setup. We shall see.

I just hope the drunk guy in section 118 is there to represent with his repetitive, slurred yelling: "CONTREEEERRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAS!!!!!!! I OWWWNNNN YOUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!"


Well Done

Stinky's gonna cover this series in greater detail but let me point out a couple things real quick:

1) Mark Buerhle pitches pretty damn well--I mean, a perfect game is one thing, doing it for 14.66 innings...that's just wicked good. I know we've had a lot of fun at Buerhle's expense. I mean, he was the man we claimed could never resist sexy mermaid cake. Still and all, well done Beuerhle. Have some cake.

1a) Speaking of well done, well done us. Probably the classiest thing I've seen from fans in a long time, applauding an opposing player, and one from a rival--a rival we are battling for a division lead, and we give their best pitcher a standing O. Who needs a championship when you're just awesome pure and simple--and also humble.

2) I want everyone to note something--in Texas we had a discussion regarding not using homeruns as our sole source of runs--then came the trip to Cali, where we forgot that discussion, and suffered as a result. These last two games, when we needed wins, we slashed, we bunted, we ran, we used the surprising the distracting bottom of the line-up and we won.

Coincidence, or the fine fine art of supraction?


I know it's a day late...

but heart felt none the less...

My co-blogger in crime will handle the game we witnessed tonight (magical as it was). It falls to me to explain the end of the road trip that would not, could not! be anything more than pure unadulterated lame-i-tude.

Yesterday there was this--
MORNEAU: C'mon Guys! I know things have been bad! I know you're down and out! I know everyone just wants to go home so they can hold on to their teddy bears and hold on to their blankets, but if we win this game we can go home with our heads held high.
EVERYONE: [grumumblemumblewuhhuhhh]
MORNEAU: Seriously guys, we got this one, I mean no matter what goes wrong at your place of business there's always one guy you can turn to when times are tough?
BOBBY KEPPEL: Who's that big plaid chested man?
MAUER: Can't be me, my sideburns are wilting in the hot Pacific sun.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLY: Can't be me...I died before the game was invented...oh, and I should be dead now...[awkward pause]so I guess I'm a zombie...[awkward pause]blaaaaaaaaahhhhh.
MORNEAU: C'mon guys, he's dependable, reliable, and exactly what you need when you need it.
EVERYONE: Who is it? [P.B.S. blaaaaaaaaahhhhhh]
MORNEAU: D'uh....it's me!

Brawny dudes and talking ducks--a winning combination.


What the F----?

By the way that stands for What The FLUKE!?!?!?

This is by far the flukiest, stupidest, most infuriating road trip I have ever watched. I cannot explain it, I cannot fathom it. I cannot grasp, decipher or comprehend it either (thank you thesaurus at 1:17 AM)

Let us look back at what has happened to us lately:
1. We lost in Texas in extra innings after completely controlling the series up to that point, and it took only one bad pitch from noted loather of bad pitches Richard Alpert Dickey to lose.
2. Justin Morneau did not catch a pop fly--which may be because Justin Morneau felt bad for it...pop flies are not as attractive as him.
3. We had a ten run lead and lost it because our bullpen, which had been so dominant for the past two or three weeks suddenly couldn't control anything: witness--
3a. Bobby "K-Zone" Keppel giving up his first runs....EVER.
3b. Jose "Pretty Princess" Mijares giving up his first home run to a left handed batter....in a YEAR.
4. Despite this disaster, we still came close to winning the game, only being thwarted by an umpire's terrible call that prompted Michael "Cutey Pants" Cuddyer to become angry...seriously? Cuddyer getting angry? That's like Mother Theresa calling you a ASDF@&*#%AKFGASL!@$!!!
5. Through all of this Joe Mauer suddenly decided to see what it felt like to occasionally NOT hit the baseball...that changed tonight, presumably because Mauer learned that hitting like Alexi Casilla is not fun...unless you are Alexi Casilla.
6. Tonight, Dread Pirate Joe Nathan couldn't find the strike zone, and he's there so often that it has a seat indentation from his butt.
7. The tying run tonight bounced off the only possible part of second base that WOULD NOT lead to an inning-ending, game-winning third out.

Now, I love the Twins no matter what, and I will cheer them whether we win or not, I just cannot understand why we have to lose in such stupid manners? I mean...I do not like losing 16-1, but I understand it--if we do not play well, we should lose. The other games?....the ones where we make minor mistakes that turn into total devestation....I don't get that. I don't expect to win every game--just the ones where we don't play like a pack of platypi with their bills in the mud. (Hopefully, since Baseball is a game of averages, losing three games in so totally stupid a manner will later be balanced out by our winning three games in a totally stupid manner.) 

I can come to only one conclusion: we have offended Set, the Egyptian God of Evil. I do not know what to do now. I would beg for forgiveness, but it would be to a god of evil...which does not seem cool. I mean...look at this dude, we might not want him on our bad side--but having him on our good side seems similarly nas-tastic.
So I ask you, loyal reader, what the fluke should we do about this fluking losing jag we're on?
(Ps, feel free to include Set in your answers, or "fluke", or pie...whatever)


How to comeback from a hosing:

Please forgive the delay in our posts--but I mean, c'mon...would you want to blog during this series of doom and devastation?

After our Monday's game/screwjob, we chose to wait until our wroth waned, we here at Peanuts from Heaven took a deep breath and came right back the next night, eyes focused on some sign of superb silliness that would give us a chance to feel proud as we continued our roadtrip out west.

What we saw, was this conversation in the dugout, prior to the game.

[Michael Cuddyer sits despondently, with duct tape over his mouth at the end of the bench, when Delmon Young approaches him]
DELMON: Yo, Cuddy, what up?
CUDDY: mummmawummawumma!!
DELMON: Hang on, you have duct tape over your mouth...[Delmon rips the duct tape off] what was that?
DELMON: Shhh, shhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhh...it's okay Cuddy, it's okay...I'm here [Delmon takes Cuddy in his arms and rocks back and forth slowly, while murmuring words of comfort]
CUDDY: [Words punctuated with sobs] They're. Just. So. Mean. I. Was. Safe!
DELMON: I know, I know, I was there. It was awful Cuddy, I mean, Gogo warned us not to get too homerun happy...and what happened to us? We got beaten by homeruns...Gogo was right
GOGO: [Running up to them with a gleam of hope in his eye] I WAS RIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING?!?!?! [Gogo takes off running around the stadium at supersonic speeds] YIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...........
DELMON: I mean, even supraction was powerless to stop them.
CUDDY: Su-wha?
DELMON: Don't you remember supraction, Cuddy? You're a master of it, we suprise and distract the opposing team, that's why I slipped a jumping bean into that wild pitch last night. I was at the plate and I magicked it into the ball with my mind...then it bounced and you should have been able to score but...
CUDDY: The umpire was a JERK!! [Gomez completes a lap, "eeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee....."]
DELMON: Yes, he was, but that doesn't mean Supraction wouldn't work Cuddy! C'mon there must be something we can do...
CUDDY: Well...since everyone thinks we just hit home runs now, what if we ALMOST hit home runs...but instead--
DELMON: just hit triples over the heads of outfielders!
CUDDY: It's brilliant!!
DELMON: No one would think I could run to third base!!!
Delmon and Cuddy join hands and leap in the air as Gogo completes another lap (eeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee........)and the sound of his joy mirrored the joy in their hearts as the strategy was begun and a victory was won.

Welcome back supraction--we have missed you.

And then we lost...and that stank...but Supraction, that was awesome.


Monday Doors--So Close...

An explanation before we begin--When I was a kid (read: 5-8 years old) we started Monday morning classes with construction paper, and crayons and a retelling of our weekend adventures. On the front of the paper we had a generic scene, but inside we had details.
This will be our new method of reporting events of the weekends.

Now, to begin with, it was a good weekend, two wins and only one loss, improving our road record, pulling within two of the Tigers. However, it is highly unfortunate that a near perfect weekend was undone by two bad pitches, one from the Master Librarian himself and one from the oft-exasperating Brian "You Make me Feel Like" Duensing. What's worse, Ian Kinsler looks a little like Bozo the Clown. We do not approve of this.

Perhaps Kinsler's act of heroism was born of the struggle betwixt Jason "Le Smirk" Kubel, and Carlos "Mojo Gogo" Gomez.

We all know of Jason Kubel's Public Service Campaign: Running is Stupid. And at the start of the weekend he brought said campaign to Texas with a fury. And for the next several days Kubel's comrades in muscly arms attempted to further his cause with long, long, long, (but not quite long enough fly balls)

Meanwhile Carlos Gomez continued to quietly subvert this philosophy with his stated dogma of "Running is So Fun that I like Running and think We Should All Run More!!...RUNNNING!!"

As is the case with most contrarian ideologies, a showdown was in the offing, and sure enough, Sunday night was the night, and the battle was waged over the soul of our offense--and the winner of the battle turned into the loser, very quickly.

KUBEL: So, I just says to the guy, I says: "Yo--Running is Stupid"
CUDDY: That reminds me I need to buy their new album...and also, YEAH!
PUNTO: You guys make a great point, I mean I've been running for a year, and it hasn't helped my average any.
MORNEAU: You should try to hit for power, little Nicky P. After all...
ALL: [In unison] RUNNING IS STUPID! [High-Fives]
GOMEZ: NO! NO!! It's not true!!!!
KUBEL: Yeah, it is.
GOMEZ: No, it is not! Dios mio--am I the only one who remembers how much fun running is. How great it is to feel the wind in your hair, the ground churning beneath your feet. Am I the only who remembers the joy of piranha baseball? Nick?
PUNTO: Huh? I'm sorry, I'm trying to remember the last time I hit a homerun. It might have been back when Mike Redmond still had teeth...
GOMEZ: Denard?
SPAN: Huh? I'm sorry, I was busy offering great deals on aluminum siding...
GOMEZ: Alexi?
CASILLA: Huh? I'm sorry, I'm too busy studying multicellular gametophytes to pay attention to baseball anymore....
GOMEZ: Why won't anyone listen to me?!?
MAUER: Look, Gogo, now that we can hit homeruns, people are cheering for us to hit homeruns. They happen real fast and can score a bunch of runs at once. They even made me popular across the country--heck--I got to compete in a home run hitting contest
MORNEAU: I did that too.
MAUER: Yeah, but they said my name right. [A single tear rolls down Morneau's cheek] I love hitting for power, I want to do it all the time!
GOMEZ: But you haven't had a hit since the beginning of our first game here!!!
MAUER: ..........so?
GOMEZ: So we should play our kind of baseball! Otherwise, we will live by the homerun and die by the homerun--and maybe clowns....they are scary.
KUBEL: Let's let the team decide: Who likes getting base hits and running really really hard [Gomez and Span raise their hands, Punto kinda sorta half raises his]? Who likes hitting home runs and trotting around the bases to tumultuous applause [Everyone else raises their hand, including Punto who sheepishly raises his a little more than half-way]? And who likes multicellular gametophytes? [Alexi Casilla raises his hand--he is the only one ever to raise his hand] Sorry, Gogo, We're going to win this game with home runs!! [Cheers]
GOMEZ: But what if we lose by homeruns?!?
KUBEL: Only a bozo would dare try to beat us by a homerun!! [Laughter]
[Gomez says nothing, despite the Twins sudden dry spell of offense as Mauer, Morneau and Company keep swinging for the fences. He simply looks at Ian Kinsler in the Rangers dugout, as he rocks back and forth, back and forth, in a most menacing fashion]
And that was our weekend.


A Review of Our First Half

As brought to you by the smartest baseball roundtable in the business:

[Massive cheering and teenage girl swooning as the Lonely Hit's Club Band steps up to their crosslegged position on the meditation mat they received as a gift from the Mahareshi in Rishikesh.]

MCNEAU: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you [gets hit in the face by a woman's undergarment, sighs and continues] Thank YOU. Welcome once again to Sergeant Gardy's Lonely Hits Club Band, the most in depth panel discussion of issues in baseball ever held.....in silly costumes. With me once again are Brendan Harrisson--
MCNEAU: Denard Spannon--
SPANNON: Namaste, planet Earth.
MCNEAU: and Carlos Ringomez--
MCNEAU: Gentlemen, we have reached the half-way mark in our season and the Twins are merely a .500 baseball club. What must be done to win the division?
HARRISON: Nothing.
SPANNON: Lots of things.
MCNEAU: Explanations?
HARRISON: We have everything we need to win, we simply need to execute more consistently. We have won 6 of 8 against the Tigers and already have more wins in Chicago than we did all of last year. Additionally, we've completed our schedule against New York, Boston and Tampa Bay. The White Sox have played neither of the Evil Empires, and the Tigers still have to deal with the Rays. We had the harder schedule, it's natural for us to be a few games back, but everyone's playing relatively well, give us another month to clobber the AL West and we'll have everything we need.
SPANNON: Typical isolationist hubris. You can't rationally expect stasis to elicit the same positive results as dynamism. It's the natural order of life, you either adapt or you die. The industrial nations of the world must reexamine their economic principles in order to remain a force in the global marketplace.
RINGOMEZ: I agree, Denard, but your vociferous loquations not withstanding we are still left with the knotting vexation of our pedestrian NAY prosaiac play of ourselves and our comrades in arms and bats and gloves.
ALL: Uhhhh....?
MCNEAU: Phew...I thought our roles were going to be subverted, Denard, you were saying.
SPANNON: Uh--yeah--In a baseball context I think we need to remain active, ever changing, fluid as the river. We have a few outfielders and a great deal of wealth from the Pohlads, let's use some of that to obtain peace in the middle east, an extra relief pitcher, a cure for world hunger, or a middle infielder who can hit over .250.
SPANNON: Yeah...over .250 consistently.
[Speaking all at once]
HARRISON: That's the kind of over-reactionary liberal minded recipe for disaster--
SPANNON: Yet again, another dyed-in-the-wool, anti-innovation, anti-inspiration--
[Cutting over the noise]
MCNEAU: GENTLEMEN! Perhaps we are all right in our own way, perhaps a combination of increased confidence and an initially unremarkable trade could do the trick, I'll give you one more moment to state your ideal situation for the rest of our season.
HARRISON: We remember how cool we are, take the division lead in the last week of July and never look back.
SPANNON: We pick up a reliever from Pittsburgh and ride his bucaneering behind all the way to October.
RINGOMEZ: Labradoodle!
MCNEAU: Thank you gentlemen. This concludes Sgt. Gardy's Lonely Hits Club Band's mid-season report, please remember: Friends don't let friends become Yankees fans. Goodnight.


All-Star Update 2009!--Part 4

We pick up our live blogging at the top of the 7th

WOAH!! Albert Pujols just gave Adrian Gonzalez a very...friendly...hug. Save it for the shower boys.

Yikes! We are going to assume that Justin would prefer to not be at the all-star game, given how much he went fishing

Fun way to pass the time while hearing an overly vibrato-ed rendition of any song: do a full body enactment of the pitch wobbling up and down--if Smelly wasn't blogging and teaching, he would be a professional interpretive dancer

GREAT CATCH BY CARL CRAWFORD--though not if you listen to Tim "Debbie Downer" McCarver: "Oh these Carl Crawford's today! With their sagging pants, and their catching balls that would have hit off the top of the fence like they would have gone over the fence! They just don't know how it was back in the olden days the rassa-frassin-whippersnappers!!!!"

Dear Curtis Granderson, We are sorry we photoshopped a picture of you getting coldclocked by Honus Wagner. But you hit triples and are hella fast. Please do not hurt us. Sincerely, Peanuts from Heaven.

The Knitting Queen's list of creepiest things: 3) human heads on animal bodies 2) Kevin Youkilis' beard 1) Kevin Youkilis' batting stance (I agree on the third).


We know that there's the whole charming story of the NL coming up in a big situation and a talented hitter who loves Cheese Steak Sandwhiches coming to the plate in his home town where he has great numbers with the tying and go ahead runs on base, but what about the story of Dread Pirate Joe Nathan being awesome? If you aren't going to tell that story Joe Buck you can shut up.

Did I mention FOX really, REALLY likes awkward close-ups of people's faces?

Did we mention that Joe Nathan is totally awesome and struck out Ryan Howard anyway? BLAGHERAGHERAGHERAGH!!!

Cool thing #42 about the all star game, even when you hit the ball well in an all-star game you have a 50/50 chance of getting robbed by a great catch--just like Morneau just did.

Our dear friend Gouger says: "Did you see Mauer's Double-Nathan's 8th-Morneaus shot for an out in the ninth?!? Go Mariano Rivera!--can't believe I said that."--we can't either.

Aaaaaaaaand...that'll do it. The AL won again, the Twins came up with some important plays including an RBI double to tie it and a crucial strike out to maintain the lead. Now it's time to continue the evening of indelible awesomeness with the midnight show of HARRY POTTER!!!

Peace out.

All-Star Update 2009!--Part 3

More observations from the fourth through the sixth

Damn - I was really hoping we were going to get a more extensive description of the Dominos regionally flavored pizzas.

If there's one way to help a guy get over a social anxiety disorder, it's to talk about it CONSTANTLY. Cause you know, that's very helpful.

Swelling music = heartwarming, swelling music containing banjos = brainweirding

Let's just take a moment here to imagine how fast Carl Crawford would run if he pulled is pants up. Joe Buck did.

I never thought I'd be happy to see Derek Jeter cross home plate--but when it means that Mauer just drove in the tying run: HOT DAMN DEREK JETER!!!

Mr. PoopyPants on the All-Star Game: "ALBERT! ALBERT! ALBERT!!"

Edwin Jackson threw four pitches. What a fine young man he is, not like those lousy Carl Crawfords now-a-days, with the loud music and the sagging pants, it just makes me SICK INSIDE!

Wow--Chase Utley--Wow

Wow--The worst commercial in the world has just been aired--apparently if you have 8 dimes you can buy a taco with meat that is good enough for dogs, then watch breakdancing midgets, bathe yourself in dimes, and roll down the cul de sacs with your hoes.--Wow

Tim McCarver is pouting that he hasn't been tweeted by Joe Buck...awkward relationships come to light

? Jason Bartlett or Ben Zobrist--make up your mind Fox ?

Bald guy! Who the heck was that??!? What the eff????

Back with more after the ninth

All-Star Update 2009!--Part 2

Observations in the first three innings

*Rarely do we feel bad for a Yankee--but stinks to be Jeter when you get hit like that
*Not the best hit for Mauer--but we'll take it (helped that he was running hard)
*Pujols made a mistake?--Are pigs flying?
*Tim McCarver does not know what an I-Beam is, I may rethink my decision to hire Idiot Play-By-Play Announcer Construction Company.
*This just in Roy Halladay WILL BE TRADED
*Stinky likes the way Ichiro twirling his bat, he looks like he's preparing for a Katana fight.
*Barack Obama just took a dig at the Nationals, making him the highest ranking trash talker EVER
*Additionally, Barack Obama is a better sports commentator than Joe Buck. Not that this is a difficult accomplishment. I'm just saying.
*This just in Roy Halladay WILL BE EATEN BY TIGERS
*Wait, once Obama threw a first pitch for the White Sox they didn't lose for the rest of the year?--It's Obama's fault they won a championship?
*Ryan Franklin's goatee makes him look like Mr. Tumnus.

More after the 6th

All-Star Update 2009!

Since last year, some things have changed, some things remain the same, but the one thing that will never change is that Joe Buck is the most horrible sports commentator of all time ever. Therefore we will use this opportunity to mock him as much as possible.

Questions before the game even starts:
- is all this hooplah really necessary?
- is such swelling, dramatic music really necessary?
- is Derek Jeter's existence on the planet really necessary?
- is Joe Buck about to tell Stan Musial that he loves him?
- does Barack Obama count as a White Sox all-star?
- is there anything funnier than Ichiro Suzuki's face while meeting Barack Obama? (Seriously-it's a combination of awkward first date and discovering he is a wizard)
- does anything not have corporate sponsorship?
- wouldn't this whole thing be easier if we just used the Peanuts from Heaven all-star introduction video?



A Peanuts From Heaven Guide to: The 2009 All-Stars

In an effort to be cutting edge and what not we here at Peanuts from Heaven will endeavor to give you a brief guide to this year's all stars: in 180 seconds or less.

To make things even easier--no reading is involved.

Not to beat the dead horse or anything, but....

This passage from Jim Caple's "The Devil Wears Pinstripes" describes, much more eloquently than I ever could, why I dislike the Yankees:

Sure, there is an undeniable pleasure in rooting for a team and in being able to look down on opposing fans with equal measures of superiorty and disdain. But that's also the Ruthian drawback in rooting for the Yankees (along with high ticket prices, overpriced concessions and crude neighbors). The true pleasure in sports comes not from simply winning but from watching a team overcome adversity to win in the end. The joy of sports is never the final destination, it's the journey. It's experiencing the highs and the lows, and appreciating those highs all the more because of the awful lows.
Yankees fans can't know that. Their team has been so successful, they are so rich and so stocked with talent, that anything less than a World Series victory is a complete disappointment. And by the same token, if they win, there is no real sense of accomplishment. ... Anyone can root for a team that wins all the time. The test of a real fan is whether you have the character to stick with your team through thick and thin.


Weekend Recap

We at Peanuts from Heaven do realize that we are creating a rather nasty habit of failing to blog during the weekend. But, given that during a glorious Minnesota summer we would much rather be listening to the game on a radio whilst basking in the sun near a crystal clear lake, we hope that you are like us and not feverishly checking for recaps every day.

This series was important, because, as if it wasn't bad enough that we had just faced the organization that must not be named, we now had to face the Dark Forces from Chicago led by the evil Sorcerer Ozzie Guilluman. How would Gardydalf and his fellowship of the bat respond? How much dorkier could we become?

Answer: This much
In the end the series was better than we expected, we were in every game, we got to attend one, we nearly won the second and today we welcomed back a devastatingly secret weapon.

After Gardydalf the White-haired endured the oh-so-narrow-defeat last night, there was only one solution, he ventured deep into the bowels of the Metrodome, to unleash a magic that can destroy everything in its path. A swirling dervish of magic.

There was fear and trepidation throughout the dugout. "Gardydalf," asked Bilbo Punto, "why must we unleash the beast?"

"Yes," said Mauer the Sideburn-ed, "I have sideburns, I am powerful, You do not need to unleash that ferocious magic. I offer you my bat."

"And my glove, " said Crede the Greedy

"And my pitching," said Scott the UnNicknamed

"And my...wait...is bat already taken?" inquired Justin the Maple Leafed.

"You are brave men," said Gardydalf, "and true-men all. But after we the devestating devouring from Bobby "Caveman" Jenks last night, we must use every weapon we have to defeat the cunning Pale Hosers.

"I don't like it any more than you do...but what must be done...must be done..." And so with solemnity of purpose, and downcast eyes. Gardydalf did open the chest of magic, which swirled and elevated an otherwise mildly amusing centerfielder and turned him into

The rest--was easy. So you are our hero Mojo Gogo, you and your running, leaping, home run swatting ways. Happy all star break...don't be afraid to remain magical after the vacation.


New title for the Yankees:

"They who shall not be named"
Let us never speak of this series again.


Weaving a spell

I have come to a conclusion. All the pain. All the suffering. All the terrible horrible no good very bad things that happen to us because of the New York Yankees are a result of fear, or as my co-blogger's mother put it recently: "some kind of magic spell"

I teach literature, so I know that the only really powerful spell is story telling, so I am left to assume that what happened was this:

The starting pitchers (and the sometimes starting pitchers) gathered together for a slumber party at the Metrodome. There was Scott Baker and Glen Perkins, and Cakeburn, and Killthrow and The Cisco Kid and the Master Librarian and Anthony Swarzak. And they played and braided each other's hair and ate popcorn and read teen idol magazines and laughed, laughed, laughed some more.

Then, before it was time for Uncle Gardy the Garden Gnome to tuck them into bed, the mean older brother came back. The brother who smelled of smoking and Southern Comfort/Fanta and evil. KYLE LOSHE.

LOSHE: "Wuzzup, suck 'tards!"
BAKER: "Kyle, you're not supposed to be here! This is our party and our fun-time!"
OTHERS: "Yeah!!"
LOSHE: [picking at the paint on the door jamb, trying to look unconcerned] "Sure, fine, whatever...I just thought I'd see y'all one last time before the Yankpires destroyed you."
OTHERS: "Yankpires?"
PERKINS: "What are they?"
LOSHE: "Yankpires? Oh, nothin'...just the most EVIL THING IN THE WORLD!!!"
OTHERS: "Gasp!"
LOSHE: "Yankpires are Yankee Vampires. They run faster than anyone else, they jump higher than anyone else, they hit the ball harder than anyone else."
DICKEY: "Wait, I'm sorry, who says that?"
LOSHE: "I READ IT IN A BOOK, TARDFACE!! Anyway. Their line-up used to have a man who would eat only hot dogs, pigeon heads and drink root beer mixed with human blood and he would turn that into home runs?"
DICKEY: "Used to--how long ago?"
DICKEY: "Vampires can become ghosts? That's not consistent with Stoker's original text, Van Helsing says--"
LOSHE: [PUNCH] "SAME THING'LL HAPPEN TO YOU IF YOU INTERRUPT ME AGAIN! Anyway, The Yankpires don't feel pain, the Yankpires will eat your fastballs for breakfast, your change-ups for lunch and your face for dinner!!"
OTHERS: "whimper"
LOSHE: "It's a shame y'all have to die so bad and everything...it's a shame nobody understands Yankpires like I do. They're misunderstood and I just wish I could lie in a meadow with them, just staring into eachothers eyes as their bodies sparkle in the sunlight..."
DICKEY: "Shouldn't they die in sunli--"
LOSHE: [PUNCH] "SHUT UP!!!!! Anyway...if y'all know what's good for ya, you won't even put up a fight. You'll just run away...like the stupid little NUMBSUCKFACES you are, later...uh....uh...you...uh....THINGS!!!!"
[Loshe leaves but, all the other pitchers look panicked, they murmur scary somethings to eachother]
BAKER: "I hear if a Yankpire spikes you, you become one of them!"
LIRIANO: "I hear if a Yankpire hits a home run off of you burst into a thousand pieces."
SLOWEY: "I hear that if the Yankpires beat you, they take your powers!"
CAKEBURN: "I hear that the only cake that can defeat a Yankpire is a Garlic Forest Cake in the shape of a cross!"
PERKINS: "I don't feel so good..." [Perkins vomits, then faints]
Just then Gardy came in to say goodnight
GARDY: "Okay boys, time to say good night I--[he surveys the scene]--my goodness! What have you boys been up to?"
BAKER: "Kyle came in--"
LIRIANO: "Even though we told him not to--"
SLOWEY: "And he told us about Yankpires--"
CAKEBURN: "And how dangerous they are--"
DICKEY: "And then Glen vomited and fainted and--"
GARDY: "Shhh, shhh, shhh, shhh....calm down boys. Okay, first, Kyle is a tool. Second, Yankpires are real [whimper of fear] but if you are strong of mind and body and if you channel your energies towards cooler things than vampires, things will be okay..."
DICKEY: "Cooler things like what?"
GARDY: "You know...anything that's even semi-decently written: Louis L'amour novels, Superhero comics, supervillain comics, Donald Duck cartoons, stuff about Ninjas and Pirates and Zombies and Werewolves...stuff like that."
DICKEY: "And Victorian Drawing Room FARCES!?!"
GARDY: "Uh...yeah...sure..."
GARDY: "Goodnight boys, good night."
And Gardy left--but he forgot the most important thing about Slumber Parties--after the parent leaves, you must remain chattering for at least three hours. This combination of poor sleep, fear, and vomiting has lead to our defeats. We only hope that we can overcome the evil spell of the Yankpires today...and maybe that we can punch Kyle Loshe in the face.


Momma said there'd be days like this

Sometimes, you encounter something so terrible that it makes you want to give up on all of humanity, hide away in a rocky little cave somewhere and spend the rest of your days catching fish, living off the land and chasing away any small children who come near you by waving a large, knobbly stick at them.

Things that fall into this category include but are not limited to:
- Bagel Cheddarwurst from my elementary school cafeteria
- The Movie "Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay"
- Sanjaya (well mainly his hair. and voice.)
- Last night's game.

I don't really want to talk about it. We all know how bad it was.

God I hate the Yankees so much.

Moving on. Happy thoughts.

Despite...things...that were bad... there are Kudos to be awarded:
- Go-Go Gomez, for his *amazing* defense, saving us from even further destruction at the hands of Alex Rodriguez.
- Nicky Punto, for some good walks and some great fielding plays.
- Cuddy, for his feel-good home run and his dimples.
- ... and a big, giant massive hug for Scott Baker. *hug*

Side note - Random Ballpark Obvservation of the Week:
Do not teach your children to boo at players. Even if they're A-Rod. It's not cool. I know there's the stereoids and the prostitutes and Madonna and the whole not being able to go out in sunlight or see his reflection thing, but really...come on. Yes, I'm talking to you, mom sitting next to me at the game last night with her 4-year old daughter. Don't make me give you the beat-down.

Yes... we're all about classiness here at PfH.

The evil empire must be destroyed.


Know Thine Enemy '09: The New York Yankees

We have said it and said it and said it again: The Yankees are Evil.

Here now, incontrovertible, totally irrational proof of that fact, in the list of reasons why we should eradicate the Yankees like the pestilential cockroaches they are:

1. The Steinbrenner's: Owners, Jackasses, Multi-milliondollar jerkwads. *82 Loathing Points*
2. Payroll: In a dip from last year the Yankees are only spending 201 Million Dollars. ONLY 201,449,189 dollars. Or, the same amount that it would cost for three teams of Minnesota Twins. So I'll make the following proposition, why don't we get two clones for every one of our players and face the Yankees on a level playing field? *65 Loathing Points*
3. History/Shmistory: The Yankees used to wallow in this whole "aura of excellence" and would rub everyone else's nose in it. They'd talk about how great their teams are, how noble, and patriotic and magnificent their history is. But  allow me to quote my mother who, while watching the yesterday's announcements of the All-Star Teams, said this in regard to the Yankees/Red Sox and their legions of ditto-heads: "I hate that! I don't care about the big market teams! I don't care about the Yankees with their commercials and their legions of fans! I'm a fan of baseball, not a fan of marketing!!"  She's right, at this point the whole "aura of excellence," is little more than a ploy to make the Yankees more of a brand for consumption than an actual team. You're a Yankees fan if you want to watch the triumph of wealth, not if you want to watch baseball. So shut up Yankees fans your "aura" your "mystique" are nothing more than inventions of the Steinbrenner's to get you to part with your hard earned money. *126 Loathing Points*
4. Vampires: In case this is your first time reading the blog, we will say it again: The Yankees are Vampires. Vampires run faster, jump higher, and hit harder than anyone else. The Yankees run faster, jump higher and hit harder than anyone else. The Yankees are Vampires! Learn to recognize the tell-tale signs by examining this informational poster. *365 Loathing Points*
Reasons we should take a karmic view of erradicating the vermin and simply let them live with us in peace and---AAAAAHHHH! IT'S TWITCHING SMASH IT SMASH IT!!!
1. Jack: I have a little cousin named Jack. He's a Yankees fan. I'm trying to help him mend his ways, but until I do, I will not cause him undue distress. *-250 Loathing Points*
2. Pacifism: Violence and hatred actually aren't the best and we should endeavor to understand our enemies. So we won't punch Yankees fans in the face at the game. We won't jeer them or taunt them. We'll just beat them. *-250 Loathing Points*

Final Loathe-o-Meter Rating: 138 Loathing Points (A NEW RECORD!)
(+38 Points from last year)


The bad, the good, and the beautiful

First, our apologies to Adam "Opie" Everett, who joined the Twins last year with hopes of rediscovering his once promising talent. It did not happen, and we said goodbye to him at season's end. But he was totally adorable, so his periodic errors and poor hitting this series was at once familiar, helpful and a little sad.

Second, our gratitude to the Nefarious Dr. Cakeburn, also known as Nick Blackburn, who rebounded nicely from his hard luck losses in Milwaukee and Kansas City with another complete game. He looked very good in deed and we would call him our best pitcher, but whenever we give a pitcher that title he suddenly gets hurt--so we'll simply say thanks to you, you diabolical pitching genius who loves cake so much he uses it to destroy his opponents: Thanks a lot.

Finally, we would like to welcome back the badass version of Justin Morneau. That .318 batting average is great, but not quite Mauer-esque. That superb defense is wonderful, but not quite Crede-rian. And for that brief period in early June when Jason Kubel was hitting homeruns, but Justin wasn't it was hard to get into the go-go Morneau mood.

Still, we here at Peanuts from Heaven have always been supporters of Justin's...particularly my co-blogger Stinky who has always had a fondness for Mr. Morneau...particularly his backside. This was why we were very glad to see him finally homer again in St. Louis last week, then do it again the next night in Kansas City, then do it again yesterday at the Dome, and then do it again today in the magical, 6th inning which included Opie's error.

He's big, he's buff, he's brawny.
Ladies, start your drooling.

Happy Birthday America!

There were some not so good things that happened yesterday. Early in the morning we lost in the 16th inning. Our knuckleball expert/uber-nerd extraordinaire RA Dickey took the loss. Our resident pitcher/superhero Kevin "Killthrow" Slowey went on the DL. And we had seats near a guy who claimed that he had to "get in their heads" by screaming out the names of Tigers players, which did nothing more than give us a headache and inspire Magglio Ordonez to hit a 3-run home run.

But still, it was the 4th of July, it was the chance to celebrate America, and no matter how bad things were, there was no better way to celebrate America than to remember the words of one of our greatest founding fathers.

"It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shows, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more."
Those are the words of John Adams. Diplomat. Patriot. Powdered Wig Enthusiast. And the inspiration for the annual brilliance of Little Nicky Punto. As it was last year, so it is this year, and so, while he is not as well known as the home-run hitting big name founding fathers (Morneau=George Washington, Cuddyer=Thomas Jefferson), Nick "John Adams" Punto--you are our hero.


The Road Trip: In Photoshop

For anyone who would prefer an account of our road trip with fewer words and more pictures: consider this for you.

We began on the road to Milwaukee. And while we had high hopes for a Twins win to kick off our tour, we instead ran into Brewers Announcer Brian Anderson whose predictions continually went wrong...earning him the title: NOT-STRADAMUS

But at the game the next day we were filled with hope. Until we saw the massive frame of Prince Fielder, who tied the game with a big home run. We wondered how a vegetarian could be so fat, until we realized that souls do not contain meat...so Prince Fielder probably devours souls of his opponents.
One soul that Prince could never devour is that of our plucky lead off hero, Denard Span. And what we like about Denard...he really knows how to dance (particularly around the base paths and mid slide:After Denard danced over the Brewers, the Twins headed south to St. Louis, for the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny between Joe Mauer--the be-sideburned god of the Upper Midwest, and Albert Pujols--the Uni-browed Diety of the Lower Midwest. They would face-off once and for all...literally:
Mauer and his boys took 2 out of 3, but Pujols impressed us, even from a distance, evoking the kind of fear you feel when a lion charges you down in the savannah:
Or...maybe it was a panther from Thunderia?
Whatever the case: Albert was a bad ass, but he was also defeated. And as we drove across I-70 to St. Louis we wondered whether or not the sexy babe mudflaps could be replaced by the sexy master librarian, RA Dickey and his brand of mudflaps
When we realized that would never happen, we settled in for the game in Kansas City. But the tuckered out Twins took their stupid pills and started to lose. In an effort to motivate the club our beloved Garden Gnome argued with the ump...and then proved himself to be a creature from fantasy literature by vanishing just as suddenly as he began his argument.
So our hope was nearly lost...until we thought how surprising and distracting it would be to have Brian Buscher start the come back. I mean...you never expect Brian to be in the starting line-up, and you really never expect him to get a hit (let alone a clutch hit). I mean: No one Expects BRIAN BUSCHER!!!
And for good reason...he didn't do anything. And so the Twins lost the last game we saw them play. But they did win all the other games we saw, and 6 out of 9 on this entire road trip...which is very good. Now comes an intimidating home stand, with Detroit, New York and Chicago before the All-Star Break. We will remain faithful...and we hope you will stay tuned to see what the Twins manage to do.

Until tomorrow. Happy Trails.