The Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame

Once again the sounds of horsehide hitting leather mitts is resounding throughout the sunny fields of Arizona and Florida, and if we ever get to turn off our snowblowers we might just hear it up here in the towns teams call home during the summer.

As is our custom every year at this time, we're spending part of spring training remembering those who make the game such fun to watch. So we're holding elections to the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame which honors not baseball excellence but generally being amusing. Let the gatekeepers of Cooperstown worry about whose numbers are the best and who's morally pure enough worthy to enshrine, we'll just remember the funny things players did and make a goofy photoshop for them on Opening day.

As we suggested back in October, there's only one way to adequately judge a player: our totally made up and in no way scientific statistic AARP (Amusement Above Replacement Player [scale -10 to 10]). Below are this year's nominees and their AARP. Reminder, to be elected you must have either 75% or the highest vote total in the class, and to be held over to next year's ballot you need at least 5% of the vote--which is usually one vote or more.

You can vote through the poll on our personal website or leave a comment below to give your opinion added weight.

Returning Nominees
Joe Nathan

The Good--Gung ho closer with a penchant for made up rock anthems, facial hair, making farting noises with his mouth while stressed and piracy.
The Bad--Occasionally a little too fond of giving himself a higher degree of difficulty in saves.
AARP: 8.7

Denard Span

The Good--Steadily excellent play in center, quiet consistency at the plate, perfect nickname tie in with Menards.
The Bad--Chilled out attitude made him seem a little more aloof and harder to love than peers
AARP: 3.8

Delmon Young

The Good--Falls into the "So-Bad-It's-Good" genre of fielders...like Sharknado but with a glove. Mediocrity always masked slightly better than mediocre talent.
The Bad--Toolish behavior, general anti-semitism.
AARP: -0.9

Carl Pavano

The Good--Durable, reliable, has a heckuva mustache
The Bad--Not much personality to be noted beyond the mustache.
AARP: 2.7

Jesse Crain

The Good--Patches of impressive pitching, solid goatee and general kindness to the bloggers of this site.
The Bad--Few standout characteristics.
AARP: 2.0

Francisco Liriano

The Good--Flashes of brilliance, other flashes of stupidity, attributed silly amount of success to chewing gum, devastating slider
The Bad--Cranky and surly at times, as unpredictable as your crazy-ex but without any of the attractiveness.
AARP: 2.6

Tsuyoshi Nishioka

The Good--Briefly seemed like proof the Twins were going world wide. Tried really hard. Falls into the "So-bad-it's-still-pretty-bad" genre of fielders...like MegaShark versus Crocasaurus stuck on just the Jaleel White scenes.
The Bad--Created a lot of animosity pitting furious fans against merely exaperated fans
AARP: -0.6

Scott Baker

The Good--Consistent and solid starting pitcher. Once had his protective cup get lost in his pants.
The Bad--Injuries made his recent impact as a source of amusement minimal.
AARP: 2.1

Ben Revere

The Good--Thoroughly exciting and excitable fan favorite who loved to play the game
The Bad--Not around long enough to really make an impact or get a nickname
AARP: 2.3

Alexie Casilla

The Good--Absolutely passionate, strangely clutch, responsible for some of the most exciting moments in team history
The Bad--Generally an unknown in town, too inconsistent to become beloved.
AARP: 1.9

No longer eligible: Kevin Slowey, Luke Hughes, Jason Marquis, Matt Capps, Jason Kubel (resigned)

New Nominees
Justin Morneau
The Good--An MVP, a perennial all-star, a tenacious club-leader (even getting punched by Torii Hunter), goofy canuck, and the possessor of a widely admired backside.
The Bad--He hasn't quite been up to the old Morneau-snuff since a concussion, and despite his widely beloved nature his nicknames (Dr. Neau; Brawny; The Canadian Club) don't quite measure up.
AARP: 3.0

Ryan Doumit
The Good--Consistent refusal to button all his uniform created our nickname  "Ryan Suave", occasional outbursts of power were sincerely appreciated, penchant for eye black
The Bad--Consistently inconsistent. Poor defense and feeble hitting gave him little playing time and less love
AARP: 1.9

Jamey Carroll
The Good--Responsible for an often enjoyable game we played on this site called "Country Superstar" Jamey Carroll--which involved inventing silly psuedo-country songs based on being an aging middle infielder like: "My Defense Looks a lot Better After a Couple Beers".
The Bad--The whole playing thing wasn't his greatest strength....shame that was so important to the game.
AARP: 1.6



Liam Hendricks
The Good--Australian always seemed promising, and offered lots of Australia related jokes
The Bad--Never lived up to promise.
AARP: 0.7

Andrew Albers

The Good--Terrific story of triumph over adversity and dedication, including a scintillating stretch of scoreless innings.
The Bad--Everything after the strong start.
AARP: 0.9

This year, in addition to the recently released and traded players we're also running a veteran's ballot (in honor of the five year anniversary of our first inductee: Bert Aberforth Blyleven (whom we never saw play, but found hilarious anyway).

Veterans on our ballot and their AARP ratings are below.
Early Days
Cesar Tovar
The Good--Aside from the undeniably quirky and amusing playing of every position in one game, "Pepito" actually had a solid career both in the box and on the base paths, helping team to an AL title in 1965 and division titles in '69 and '70. Part of a stellar Centerfield tradition for the Twins.
The Bad--Didn't make much impact in the postseason. Relatively short peak of powers, fading off badly in the early 70s
AARP: 3.3


Mudcat Grant
The Good--Folksy and fun pitcher with a passion for music. Served as a top starter for the 1965 staff. Works to promote the history and future of African-American players in the majors.
The Bad--Three years is a very short run with the Twins.
AARP: 3.8


Glory Years
Dan Gladden
The Good--Tenure with team coincides with both world titles, including championship-winning run in 1991. Forerunner of gritty determined Twins players. AKA "Dazzle". Crotchety but amusing announcer
The Bad--Titles may be timing as much as talent. Hair was a mullet. Crotchety announcing. Grit and pluck are overrated.
AARP: 2.8

Al Newman
The Good--Plucky, scrappy utility infielder. Part of major league record triple-play combinations, later became coach famous for waving players home and butt patting.
The Bad--Again grit and pluck are overrated. Having an 0-31 hitless streak is too often forgotten, many would rather not hear about an association with recent coaching staffs.
AARP: 2.0

Recent Standouts
Corey Koskie
The Good--Excellent defender, solid hitter, founder of a goofy clubhouse-aesthetic, Canadian willingly returns and offers support for the team since retirement. Inspiration for my mother's rhyming game ["Koskie, Koskie, Show Us What you Gots-ki!"]
The Bad--Concussion and frequent injuries ended his career

AARP: 3.7

Doug Mientkiewicz
The Good--Gold medalist, World Series Champion, gold glove winning first baseman, incredibly popular hitter (despite average performance), gladly spoke his mind and inspired most awkward rhyming game [Mientkiewicz, Mientkiewicz...Make me a Sandwhich!]
The Bad--Friend to A-Rod. Awkwardly toolish after helping Red Sox win World Series.
AARP: 3.2

Wha Happened? #4 (@ White Sox & v.s. Marlins)

Here's your quick, easy, inaccurate guide to the last week in Twins Baseball

Game 15

Cold Weathered Out

After going all the way to Chicago just to find out that another game would be postponed due to inclement weather, the Twins groaned loudly in protest. Manager Ron Gardenhire's offer to take everyone out for ice cream was a nice thought but...seriously...whose thinking about ice cream on the 79th day of February?

Game 16

Twins 2 - White Sox 1

In the afternoon, we peanuts thrilled to see the Twins squeak out a win in the Windy City, behind a strong 7 innings from Vance "Vanimal" Worley, and the night only got better as Mrs. Peanut and I went to see Minnesota Opera's version of Turandot...which would look something like this to the Vanimal.

Game 17

Twins 5 - White Sox 3

Years ago, we Peanuts met Jesse Crain. In addition to being polite with your run of the mill fans, he also seemed vaguely entertained by our comical shenanigans and goofy photoshops. For this reason we said that he was not just a "mensch" he was in fact "the Ubermensch". This allowed us to make all kinds of goofy allusions to philosophy while writing Twins recaps and caused much amusement...at least for us.

And while we Peanuts still want to take every opportunity to destroy the White Sox, we're a little less keen on crushing our pal "Ze Ubermensch". So when Ze Ubermensch came into pitch with the bases loaded we had to pause before remembering what we really wanted to see.

Facing Josh Willingham, Ze Ubermensch chose to open with one of his favorite argument/pitches, guaranteed to throw hitters off balance: "We speak of 'stranding runners' in baseball, and yet, in order to be 'stranded' shouldn't one be eternally lost, abandoned and forlorn, strapped to their base as if it were an island in the stream? Given that the runners, do in fact return to the dugout and thence to the field, is it not morally superior to leave them to their own devices, challenging the so called 'stranded' to survive the treacherous jog back to the bench under their own guile and intellect? With the human mind capable of such complex, instinctual foresight, denying these runners the right to exercise their mental acuity is akin to negating the will of the student to question his teachings."


Cogent as that argument may be, our own local God of Thunder unleashed his Willinghammer all over Ze Ubermensch with a bases clearing double. Standing on second base Willingham was heard to remark to Crain: "Sorry...I couldn't hear your question over the sound of my awesomeness..."

The Blizzard of Oz

Game 18

Gross Weathered Out

In their offices at Target Field the Pohlad brothers mutter darkly about moving the team somewhere with nicer weather that doesn't run the risk of so many early season snow/rain outs...like maybe: Nome, Alaska.

Game 18 Take 2

Twins 4 - Marlins 3

Through the gloom of yet another April snow storm, the Twins took the field to battle the Miami Laughingstocks...I mean Marlins. As good fortune would have it, they had with them a young rookie with a nickname tailor-made for this kind of weather: "The Blizzard of Oz" Oswaldo Arcia! And with a heroic summoning of his magical prowess the Blizzard Wizard smote the Marlins with a three-run blast to take the lead and seal the game.

Game 19 

Marlins 8-Twins 5

Sensing my disparaging comments of them in the previous paragraphs, the Marlins took their revenge on Mike Pelfrey. As frustrating as their hitting was for Pelfry, it was more aggravating to hear them snidely shout out Nickleback lyrics with sheer condescension "Should've seen it coming!" jeered Placido Palanco, "It had to happen sometimes" crowed Greg Dobbs, "You went and bought a knife/to an all out gun fight" giggled Rob Brantley This was frustrating for Pelfry, but more frustrating for fans who realized that the Marlins actually sing better than Nickleback front man Chad Kroeger,

Mr. Peanut: Brian Dozier (with a small sample size this mostly an award for improved defense and plate discipline, but still warranted)

Nutty Buddy: Trevor Plouffe (again, it's a small sample size, but mediocre plate work plus poor defense means fans are seeing Eduardo Escobar through rose-colored, beer-goggled, Plouffey eyes)

Closing Arguments

In case you haven't noticed; there is a poll available at the right side of this screen that invites you to vote for the next members of the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame.

This is not a Hall of Fame for the greatest Twins players in history--just as this is not the greatest blog in Twins history--instead this Hall of Fame aspires to be what we aspire to be: a place for the fun, the quirky and the things that make you laugh and smile while watching a game. Our first inductee was the master of farts Bert Blyleven, then hyperactive center-fielder/puppy personified Carlos Gomez, then the dictionary definition of scrappiness Nick Punto.

Today we have nine nominees vying for election...it takes 75% to get elected (or at least the top vote getter) and 10% to stay on the ballot for next year. And since the most entertaining thing that has been on this winter (other than Downton Abbey, obviously)  has been the spirited exchange of ideas/interminable car wreck of political aspirations known as the Republican Presidential Debates--we thought we'd give each candidate a chance to make their final case for enshrinement. Consider their claims and cast your ballot at the right--only 4 days left to vote! Make them count!

Jesse Crain 

(the only returning candidate from last year)

I believe that the reasons I would make a good Hall of Famer can be best summarized through a detailed analysis of the inter-related ideas of existentialist philosophers like Viktor Frankl and Austrian economist Friedrich Hayek, you see following the inhuman betrayal of our shared human values...[5 minutes later]...leaving the only possible explanation for both the meaning of life and the reason for a limited government: my excellent slider! Thank you.

Jim Thome

I never tried to make lofty, absurd promises to Twins Territory, I just spoke softly and carried a big stick that hit big homeruns. The citizens of Twins Territory don't need promises, they need a calm, steady, potato-ish presence in the line up, I did that proudly for two years. I even walked around with a big blue ox, because hey, I figured y'all would like it. If elected to the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame, I will be polite, dignified and hit home runs...you're welcome.

Delmon Young

You people never thought I'd do the things I did, but I always surprised you! Just when it looked like a ball would fly over my head for a devastating double, I'd randomly decide to leap and find the thing! Just when it looked like I'd catch the ball for an inning ending out, I'd lose it in the sun or the roof, or a cloud! Admit it, you could never predict what I'd do next! I'd always leave you guessing! What's more exciting than having that: EVERY SINGLE BALLGAME!! Elect me to the Peanuts Hall of Fame and who knows what I'll do? Ground into a double play? Try to leg out a triple? Establish a colony on the moon? WHO KNOWS?!? ELECT ME AND FIND OUT!!!

Joe Nathan

BLAGHERAGHERAGHERAGH!!!! STRIKEOUTS! GERAAAAGHHERAGAAAAAGGA!!! WINNING!!!!! AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGH!!! VOTE JOE!!! BLARK!!!

This may be our last chance to refer to Dread Pirate Joe Nathan
We had to take it

Kevin Slowey

I know a little something about entertainment, and I know a little something about job creation. I provided you fans with countless games of entertainment, when I found a good pitching groove and suddenly turned in 7 or 8 innings of near total domination--that was entertaining. When I didn't, and I left after 3 or 5 innings in total confusion and disarray--well, I was just making sure that our bullpen guys had opportunities to prove themselves. Otherwise they'd be without big league contracts, and salaries, and their kids would suffer and the backbone of our society (middle relievers) would collapse! You wouldn't want that to happen would you? Of course not...so, that's why you should vote for me...I'm entertaining, and I'm doing my part to make pitching staffs strong again for ourselves, and our children.

Jose Mijares

I did three things that make me worth of being a Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Famer. I threw the ball really hard. I didn't sue when these bloggers photoshopped my head on a Princess drawing. And, uhh...uhh....oops.

Jason Kubel

Sure, I could tell you why I deserve election, but look at these other candidates! Kevin Slowey talks about putting relievers to work, but he single handedly put Boof Bonser out of a job! (What about Boof?!?) And Delmon Young? He's a serial flip-flopper: "I'll catch the ball. I won't catch the ball. I'll hit the ball. I won't ever hit the ball." How do we know the real Delmon Young is here? And I think that Joe Nathan is a secret african pirate who tried to turn Twins Territory into a socialist society where fluttering your lips replaced English as the national language!* I'm Jason Kubel, and I play baseball...vote for me!

*This message paid for by Smirking For America

Jim Hoey

Umm...I'm just gonna leave...

Michael Cuddyer

Sure, I could tell you about the all-star appearance, the charity work, the strong arm in right field, the steady professional hitting, the magic tricks, the ability to play any position Gardy asked me. But I think you're all sick of campaigning, and besides, isn't this enough? [Smiles, a soft *ping* is heard, everyone is happy]

So there you go, the choice is yours Twins fans; cast your votes in the poll (for as many as you like) and we'll photoshop the winning plaques by opening day!

Vote for the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame

As January draws to a close our eyes will turn southward to Spring Training in Fort Meyers and the joys that go along with it. Sunshine. Blue Skies. The sound of Joe Mauer's bat hitting a ball so hard that PETA activists charge him with cruelty to animal skins. And, because we're a weird crew we baseball fans, we'll be dreaming of October--in February...'cause we're like that.

But we'll also be thinking of the players who've left us over the last offseason, and as is our habit here at Peanuts From Heaven, we like to commemorate the fallen with one final photoshop as an induction into our very own Hall of Fame. This is a hall dedicated not to the absolute BEST Twins players, but instead dedicated to those who make watching the game so entertaining and make writing and reading about the Twins one of our favorite pastimes.

This year, instead of unilaterally deciding which former Twin should be enshrined alongside such ever amusing icons as Bert Blyleven and Carlos Gomez, we're going to open the voting to you! In the right menu bar you'll see a poll--click next to the player you want to see a hall of fame photoshop of and we'll provide it! The poll will be open until pitchers and catchers report and the induction ceremony will be held on the first day of Spring Training.

In case you need a reminder the candidates are:

Jesse Crain (A guy so nice we called him "Uber-Menschy" or...Ze Ubermensch!)

Orlando Hudson (About as bombastic as I am)

JJ Hardy (Boy Detective/Dreamy Shortstop)

Nick Punto (Enough Said)

John Rauch (who I didn't make a photoshop of, but who did have this sweet intro video for half a year--which just screams Kenny Powers-esque, doesn't it?)

Matt Guerrier (who also didn't get a photoshop, but was a great straight man to the antics of the rest of our bullpen.)

VOTE AT THE RIGHT!

A little story

Once upon a time there was a relief pitcher for the Minnesota Twins who thought that he was actually early 20th century philosopher Frederich Nietzsche. He wasn't really, but this did not stop him, or uninformed bloggers, from believing it was true.

One snowy winter day in December 2010 (the 11th to be exact), Jesse Crain and his teammates decided to take a stroll through downtown Minneapolis. "Dudes," said Delmon Young. "Why are we walking in a blizzard?"

"I have no idea, but this is super fun!" cried Matt Tolbert, leaping and bounding over snowbanks and laughing with joy. "He stopped in wonder at the top of a hill from which he could see the metrodome. "Wow guys!" he said in a half whisper. "Look at it, it's so beautiful and magical! Like a giant fluffly marshmallow."

"Yeah," said Justin Morneau, tearing up a little. "Remember all the great memories we had playing there? Like when Torii burned half his face off sliding across the astroturf?" They all chucked and shook their heads, remembering his shriek of horror as he realized the friction had set his jersey on fire.

"Good times, good times." Said Kevin Slowey. "Well, even though we don't play there anymore it's good to know the ol' dome will always be there, to preserve our precious mem-". At that moment, there was a deafening tearing sound and the roof of the metrodome slowly collapsed in on itself like a sadly deflating balloon under the crushing weight of a gazillion points of snow.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" yelled Matty Tolbert, frozen to the spot in horror. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOO WHAT IS HAPPENING? HOW CAN THIS BE???? THERE IS NO GOD!!!!!!!!!!!"

"No," Jesse Crain replied calmly. "There isn't. God is dead. You disgust me with your backwards Christian morality. Behold the power of ZE UBERMENSCH!" He put his hands on his hips and tried to tower imposingly over his teammates but nothing really happened. "That's just silly," Denard Span replied. "God is not dead. He is alive in all of us. I talk to him before every game."

Jesse laughed. "Ridiculous. Everyone knows that faith is just the same as not wanting to know what is true." "But," Denard replied, "we can concieve of the existence of God, therefore he must be real."
"Um, no," replied Jesse. "I can conceive of unicorn, but that doesn't mean unicorns are real."
"They totally are," said Tolbert.
"No they aren't," said Denard. "But horns are real, and horses are real - and it is only because these two things exist that we can conceive of a Unicorn. God is That Than Which None Greater Can Be Conceived - and because we can concieve of this, it must be real."

"Agh!" Jesse cried. "You and your ontological reasoning! You think you can win but you can't! I can't conceive of that...anything...YOUR MOM!!!" And with that he exploded in a tiny puff and turned up four days later in hell. Or actually it was the White Sox clubhouse, but they're pretty much the same thing.

This deeply confused the White Sox front office, and when Ozzie Guillen first saw him his immediate reaction was to attack him with a fishing pole screaming "DON'T LET IT EAT ME!"... but soon they all just got used to him being there and decided to let him stay.
.....
And that's how Jesse Crain became a White Sock.
The end.

Yes, I am writing this instead of my 15 page strategy paper which is due tomorrow. Shut up. I totally have my priorities straight.

The Winter Meetings: The Happiest Place on Earth...if your name is Cliff Lee

On Monday, while the rest of us freeze our patooties off, Bill Smith and the Twins front office staff will start a week in Orlando, Florida. In between riding the teacups and losing their money to one of the few businesses that makes the New York Yankees look impoverished, they'll try and set up the Twins for a run at the 2011 World Series. As is our wont on this website, we'll suggest just what we can expect to happen--and offer a suggestion for just how the Twins Staff can use their surroundings of the Magical Kingdom to their best advantage. (P.s. click on the years to see some of our brilliant analysis from 2009, and 2008)

1st: We sign one fairly solid reliever--Clearly I misspent my youth. Instead of writing, reading and arithmetic I should have been working on one great split-finger fastball. If only I had read this opinion piece from Roy Halladay when I was a boy! Brandon Fuentes, Johnny the (G)Rauch, Matty Gurrier and (our homie) Jesse Crain (Ze Ubermensch) are all ready to pick up big paychecks in exchange for throwing a horsehide spheroid.

With so many members of our bull-pen due for raises, we can probably wave good-bye to most if not all of them. But if we're lucky, we could trick one of them to ride Space Mountain with us, and subtly ask them to re-sign them at a reasonable cost. If we ask this just before we plummet down into one of those super sweet neon lit tunnels, then they'll scream out "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY" and we'll claim they agreed to terms with us! (Deceitful, perhaps...but if you've got any better ideas I'd love to hear them).

2nd: We sign Tsuyoshi Nishioka. Sounds like Nishioka actually is pumped to be a Twinnesotan including those magic words: "I don't think I will give up the idea of going to the majors because of the amount of money"--somewhere, heaven, hell, as a reincarnated goat herder in Tasmania, Carl Pohlad is smiling.

So, after offering $5 million just to talk to him, we can seal the deal with a couple million and a quick glimpse of the glitz and glamour he can expect to find in the Twin Cities!...........Or we could get him into Disney World. (You know, just on the off chance that tater-tot casserole sushi leaves something to be desired.) And if we sign him in Orlando we can promise to take him back to Epcot's Japan section anytime he gets homesick!

3rd: We pick a pitcher or two off the scrap heap. Remember Sidney Ponson and Darren Oliver and Livan Hernandez...you know, the retread guys who nobody else was to keen on so they ended up in Twins uniforms for various lengths of time? Yeah, it's time to do some more of that. And after it worked so well with Carl Pavano can you really blame us?

But sadly, while it worked well with Pavano, he's over our little rebound rendez-vous and setting his sights on somebody with plenty of money and little intelligence (c'mon Mets, you know your cue when you hear it!). So--who's it going to be Bill Smith? Former Cy Young winner Brandon Webb? Former flash-in-the-pan John Maine? Former/Current shoulder-injury hazard zone Freddy Garcia? All of them are available, but to tell who is really worth signing take the whole lot of them to the It's a Small World Ride with a bucket of balls--whoever decapitates the most animatronic moppets before the end of the ride gets the contract!

4th: We toy with the Pittsburgh Pirates just a little bit more. Stinky and I have made no secret of the fact that our National League homeboys are the Pittsburgh Pirates (commemorating the 50 year anniversary of beating the Yankees in arguably the greatest game of Yankee beating ever!). So if the Twins and the Pirates do a little business together, we'd love it!

Turns out that the Pirates are sweet on every female Twins fan's favorite shortstop: J.J. "Sexxypants" Hardy. And nearly got him in a trade...but like a big brother teasing his sibling at Blizzard Beach, we laughed off their plea to play with the cool kids. (Not that I harbor any grudges against my big brother or anything...sniff) C'mon Twins make something happen, if we sign Nishioka, JJ's expendable anyway so trade him away for that nerdy Ross Ohlendorfer guy--we wholly support the idea of more nerds on the pitching staff (especially if Jesse Crain leaves town)

5th: Souvenir Shopping. We say this every year, but seriously...very little actually happens at the Winter Meetings, and if the first month of the offseason is any indication, the Twins aren't really keen to do anything anyway. So, you know what Bill Smith, it's cool if you just want to chill with your co-workers, ride Splash Mountain, check out the Pirates of the Caribbean stage show, you probably won't miss anything anyway. But would you mind picking up about 800,000 of these little beauties for all of us back home?.....Thanks, you're the best!

Nail Bitin'

So Stinky and I actually got to *watch* the baseball game last night (it was a big moment for two people who have forgone cable in the name of education...or more accurately two people who can't afford both cable tv and eating on a student's income).

A couple of thoughts:

1) Delmon is a talented athlete, which is nice to see after so many years of little mincing feet, the big fella can lope around there pretty well.

2) My Smoke Monster sound effects aren't so much ominous as they are random and chaotic..not unlike the smoke monster himself!

3) Life is a whole lot easier for baseball fans when your pitching isn't awful. Witness: Innings 1-8, everything was fine! Frankie pitched very very well, then Matty G. got him out of a jam. But when our tattooed closer turned into Johnny the Grauch (all covered with garbage and stinking up the joint) we were forced to turn to our old pal, Jesse Crain. (See picture below)

Jesse's a nice dude, he's friendly and amenable and certainly better than 98.9% of the world at playing baseball...but sadly he's been struggling a lot lately with the 1.1% he actually plays against. So much as we like him, seeing him in the bull pen was cause for a whole lot of: "No, no! Please oh please oh please NO!"

And yet he entered and what's more he conquered! He did so well in fact that we must revive our old nickname for Jesse: "Ze UBER MENSCH!"--because he's not just a nice guy, he's an UBER nice guy! And also, with the bald head and goatee we can see him going toe-to-toe with Niezche pretty easily.

So in honor of Ze Ubermensch, raise your steins Twins Territory and contemplate the infathomable nothingness of the Black Uniforms worn by the White Sox...it may perhaps seem contradictory to wear black when the word "white" is in your name, but perhaps the perplexing paradigm of binary forces (day-night, black-white, good-Chicago) which necessitates the existence of said Pale Hosers in order to fully appreciate the beauty of Twins baseball.

Or maybe baseball's just awesome. Yeah...let's go with that.

More than a feeling:

So it’s the half way mark of the baseball season and we here at Peanuts from Heaven are full of...oh, what’s the word....cautious optimism? optimistic caution? gas? Is it gas? It’s probably gas...

Oh no, wait I recognize this feeling. It’s the slow realization that we’re in for (yet another) barn burner of a second half. Once again the teams in Detroit Rock City and Deep Dish Pizza-ville stubbornly refuse to let us win...no matter how many cookies we send to their residents, or pictures of sad puppies we post to make them feel guilty.

This isn’t a bad thing I suppose, exciting baseball beats boring baseball any day of the weak. The only problem is that it really seemed like we might just cruise through the season this year, what with that whole kick-ass start to the season, and the actual victories over the Yankees...we might have been looking too far ahead, we admit it, but well, you’ve got to admit, it would have been nice to just have an easy year for once.

Instead we’re back where we’ve so often been, nipping at the heels of a couple other teams hoping that the breaks go our way in the second half. Now sure, there are statistics to support us. Odds are Joe will come back into form, and the pitching will regain its stuff, and Bill Smith will pick up one solid piece to help lead the charge towards October. And we could trot out all kinds of stats, like the fact that we’ve faced more teams over .500 than the Tigers or White Sox...and will, therefore, have a slightly easier road ahead.

But instead of, you know, rational logic, let’s do what we peanuts do best: Daydream!

In our magical imaginary 2nd half, Delmon Young will continue to confirm my man-crush and Nick Blackburn will once again use baked goods to combat the forces of evil and Gardy will once--at least once--push a merry little wheelbarrow out to collect Jesse Crain before Ze Ubermensch does too much damage to our leads. Also, the Tigers will trade Austin Jackson to the Red Wings (fast on grass, faster on ice!) and Ozzie Guillen’s new reality show will get a surprise twist when Flavor Flav becomes the team’s new GM. These distractions will beget our newest October fantasy: two whole wins against the Yankees!

Dare to dream little legumes, dare to dream.

Smelly

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd we're back!!

Sorry everyone! Things have been a little hectic here at PFH - first we were traveling in India, and then pretty much as soon as we got back Scruffy took off for Ghana for 5 weeks, and I started my summer internship and also became consumed by wedding-related planning activities.

I'm a little out of practice at this whole 'writing' think... it's like when I'm out of town for 2 weeks and don't practice Yoga and then when I get back I realize my hamstrings are probably half the length they used to be, only it's my level of creativity and not my ability to contort my body into strange positions. See even my metaphors are weird now.

I'll just start with a simple exercise.

THE TOP THREE THINGS THAT TERRIFIED ME ABOUT LAST NIGHTS GAME

1)David Price. I've never seen him play before, but the man is a pitching ninja. His 90-gajillion mph fastball is so stealthy you don't even see it until it's gone past you, and when I saw how totally ineffective we were against him, I sort of got bad feelings about the whole game.

2)Gardy putting in Ze Ubermensch, Jesse Crain, in the 8th. I love Jesse Crain...he is a nice guy (see Twins Fest 2009), but you would think that Gardy, a man who seems to have his head on his shoulders, would realize that 9 times out of 10, when you put Crain in, really bad things happen. I'm pretty sure there's some sort of statistical analysis linking Jesse Crain's pitching with sad puppies but I'll have to look into it further to be sure. And even though the recap made it look like he mowed them down, in person it was much more of a nail-biter.

3)The John Rauch intro video. At first I just when 'what?'...and then I was like "oh wait... this is for real??!" and then I started laughing because what else can you do when someone's freaky neck tattoo is being dramatically lit on a giant screen while Metallica plays in the background? I still can't decide whether I think it's totally awesome or the strangest thing I've ever seen, but mostly I'm leaning towards totally awesome. The best part was when he started out a little shaky and my mom goes "...maybe they should play that video again. he's cute!" MOM??!????? WHAT?????????????

If you haven't seen this particular bit of awesomeness you can watch it here, but it really doesn't do justice to seeing it on the awesome scoreboard. Did I mention the scoreboard is awesome? Let's do a little comparison, just for fun...

vs.

...and just as Target Field wins, so did the Twins also win, 2-1 over the Rays and it was a great night at Target Field! We are now 1-1 in the series...I'll make every effort to watch the game this afternoon and report back, and be a decent blogger once again.

- Stinky

JJ Hardy and the Mystery of The Dirty Sox

So apparently April was part of Spring, and May is part of Fall, and I'm sitting here humming "rain rain go away" before tonight's game. What is behind this sudden shift in our weatherly fortunes? Perhaps JJ Hardy Shortstop/Detective can find out in this latest edition of the JJ Hardy MYSTERIES!!

While recovering from his wrist injury, JJ Hardy, shortstop/detective ,did what he always does

in his spare time: he checked his surroundings to make sure there were no diamond smugglers in the Twin Cities. But being new to town, he wanted to have a friend join him.

"C'mon guys!" said JJ in his most eager-beaver voice, "there's always a diamond smuggler, or an art thief or an escaped criminal posing as a wealthy dowager! You just have to look for them!"

"I don't know, JJ" said Joe Mauer "wouldn't it be more fun to just free-style in my massive mansion?"

"Yeah, I mean why fight crime when you can just make it...disappear!!!" shouted Michael Cuddyer as he vanished little Wilson Ramos' bats.

Then Jesse "Ze Ubermensch" Crain suggested that, "better yet, we could ponder the the intense complexity of nature's synchronous relationship with one's soul and whether this confirms the intervention of the divine in the daily world or purely the power of biological forces elemental in the Darwinian undertones of evolution!" Then crickets chirped and everyone on the team ran away from Jesse Crain.

JJ's feet took him to the banks of the mighty Mississip, as he patrolled the caves searching for smugglers and other villains, but all he could see were stalactites, stalagmites and the city's one remaining Timberwolves fan. "Maybe, Milwaukee's the only smuggler saturated city in America." BUT JUST THEN he heard a monstrous laugh reverberating down the banks of the river. With each syllable of the "MWAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA!!!" the goosebumps on JJ's arms multiplied, and he knew from the "Big Book of Mystery Words" that this was what his idols would call "a clue"

Tip toeing towards the sinister cackle he peeked inside a cave and was overwhelmed with the fetid stank of unwashed sox. "Whoever is inside here, sure doesn't like laundry! What a silly billy!" Just then he turned the corner and saw a mad man with long white hair pulling levers and spinning dials and cackling, my goodness, the cackling.

"Purple Pig Great Food good choice Todd Stein Jajajajajajajja!" said the madman. And JJ knew immediately that this man had lost all contact with reality, but with each twist of the knob and each pull of the lever rain and storms persisted outside. Then JJ did what he always did in situations like this, he stated the obvious to guide the plot.

"He's controlling the weather! I must stop him!" and so JJ used the only thing guaranteed to overwhelm any critically deranged pseudo wizardish being: cable television. As it's ethereal glow burned in the dark smelly underbelly of the Dirty Sox cave, the wild man turned and began to ramble "I love bull fight, oh my god too much, I watching one in this moment. Watch that movie matador you see big nuts man. Very very awesome thanks comcast!"

With the madman distracted, JJ fiddled with the machinery until the rain and snow abated and it was safe to play baseball again. As he left the cave he looked back at the madman in front of the telvision and quipped "Talk about an idiot box..."

But little did JJ know that though the tv was on, the madman's brain was still hard at work, imagining more diabolical schemes. If he appears again, to bend the weather to his will, to smuggle diamonds or to pose as a wealthy dowager, he will be met by the ingenuity and passion of JJ HARDY Shortstop/Detective!!

Tonight's Philosophical Query

While Stinky is in Montana (where the buffalo roam, the deer and the antelope play, and seldom is heard a word about the Twins), I will continue our blogs with a journey out to the bullpen where amusing conversations are always in season. (They are also in season on the TV--since I can only watch the home team broadcast via MLB.Tv I was just treated to the Rangers trying to identify which player had been substituted in the 4th--"Punto's out...no wait, he's a short, so Harris is out...no, wait, he's at third and Crede's out...no wait, that is Crede, Harris is out...Oh hey, look, Morneau's out and Harris is at first!!" I half expected Morneau to be in left field, Delmon to be on the mound, and Waldo to be behind the plate)

Take for instance the philosophical musings of this ponderance: "Since the all-star break, the Twins are 9-2 when they get a quality start, and only 2-15 when they do not." Since Arlington Texas is a complete cultural void, this is the kind of thing that demands our pitching staff's complete attention.

UBERMENSCH: This may be true, but it demands that we consider what truly is a quality start?

DREAD PIRATE JOE NATHAN: ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!! [Subtitle: "6 innings pitched, 3 or fewer runs allowed"]

UBERMENSCH: Perhaps in the literal sense, my friend the most dreaded of pirates, but what about the figurative, emotive and symbolic senses? It is a feeble mind that considers quality on a superficial level of numbers and statistics.

CAKEBURN: Yeah, I mean, what about deliciousness of starts?

UBERMENSCH: Exactly, Nicholas! The inherent delectability or scrumdidliumptiousissitude of a pitchers performance should have as much of an influence on the outcome of the game as the statistics of "runs/hits allowed."

PERKINS: And what about really wanting to win?

UBERMENSCH: Well spotted Glenneth! If we consider personal truth to be the equivalent of physical truth, then the intense personal desire that an individual has should be the same--if not greater--than the reality of an individual's performance!

BAKER: What about adorability while giving up hits?

UBERMSENCH: Again...insightful Scottford! For, as our dear departed RA Dickey might quote: "beauty is truth, truth beauty" and, as such, we should appreciate the power and might that beauty hath wrought in our world and pay homage to it accordingly by awarding victories to the best looking of all.

SWARZAK: SWARZAK!!

UBERMESNCH: Right you are my, Duckish friend! Our very identities are unchanged, we remain named just as we always have been, we remain as comical as we always have been, and--since we have, heretofore, been excellent pitchers--we should remain excellent, winning pitchers.

DREAD PIRATE JOE NATHAN: Gar! [Subtitle: You keep saying "should": "should have as much influence", "should be the same, "should appreciate", "should remain excellent"--Yeah, all these things "should happen" BUT THEY AREN'T!!!!! We have to pitch better!!!]

UBERMENSCH: [Stroking his chin thoughtfully] Hmmm....yes...good analysis Joseph--what do you think Francisco?

CISCO KID: I think I just gave up 7 runs in 2 innings, and we lost again.

UBERMENSCH: Yes...but...what should have happened?

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.

Shoutout to Jesse Crain

We here at PfH have a soft spot in our hearts for Jesse Crain - he's such a nice guy and, as we discovered, a true mensch [which led my scruffy co-blogger to dub him ZE UBERMENSCH]

The story of us meeting Jesse goes a little something like this:
It began at Twins Fest 2009, where we went to get an autograph from Gardy.

Surprisingly, compared to the approximately 85,000,000,000 people waiting in line to hang out with Joe Nathan, there were aproximately zero people waiting to hang out with Gardy.

Let me just repeat that in case you didn't catch it the first time.

NOBODY WANTED TO HANG OUT WITH RON GARDENHIRE.

I found this strange, since hanging out with Gardy falls near the top of my list of most awesome things ever, along with Neil Patrick Harris and chocolate cake from Morton's Steakhouse. So we chatted with Gardy for a while and then left, only to realize afterward that the quiet dude with the tattoos sitting next to him was Jesse Crain, and that we hadn't said a word to the guy. Oops.

So we went back to find Jesse during his photo session. We said we felt back for unwittingly ignoring him, and he just smiled and said "hey no problem" and then took his picture with us. So Jesse Crain - pretty cool dude.

In summary - we're thinking about you, and are sad that we don't have an excuse to sneak Nietzche references into our posts anymore (because we're nerds like that). Best of luck Jesse and hope to see you back at the dome soon.

(And I'm dead serious about the chocolate cake. You have to try this cake it's amazing.)

......................

So, I have a confession to make.
I haven't watched the last two games.
When high expectations didn't work, and low expectations didn't work, and disastrously low expectations didn't work, I was willing to try just about anything to help our boys win. If Gardy had called me up yesterday and said "look Stinky, I need you to eat liver and beans every day for a year, it's the only way we can win!" I'd have been happy to oblige. But he didn't. So I did the baseball equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears, closing my eyes and going "LALALALA"... which is basically I stayed as far away from TV's and radios as possible, only to check the score at 10pm and find out that my brilliant strategy had failed.

Booo.
So, my theory is this - something happened in New York. Something so horribly, terribly upsetting that Gardy and the boys can't even talk about it. Something.... like this:

[In the clubhouse before the 9th inning, Friday may 15 - the Minnesota Twins are getting ready to kick some Yankee ass]
JUSTIN 'HOT PANTS' MORNEAU: Doo-do-doo-do-do, we are totally winning, gonna kick some Yankee ass, doo-do-doo-do-doo...
CUDDYER, MASTER OF SUPRACTION: Hey remember last night on Real World/Road Rules Challenge when that guy totally beat the crap out of that other guy? This is gonna be just like that... ONLY BETTER!!!
ALL: YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!
[Suddenly and without warning, the wall of the visitors' clubhouse is smashed apart, and as the cust clears, the Twins see Yogi Berra emerge through the crumbling cement]
YOGI: Don Joe-VAAAAAAAA--NNIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!

MAUER: Uh... what? Yogi...are you OK dude?
YOGI: Oh I'm not really Yogi. I'm just that statue from the Yankee Museum.
HOT PANTS: Oh. That explains why you're like 8 feet tall.
YOGI: I am here for Don Joe-vanni! I must avenge my wrongful death.
CUDDYER: Dude you're still alive.
YOGI: AHA!!!! (Points at Joe Mauer) THERE HE IS!!!!
MAUER: Uh... but... you've got the wrong guy. I'm Joe.
YOGI: YES!!! DON JOE-VANNI!
MUER: But... wait! I didn't kill you! That's... this is ridiculous! Besides (points to Crede) his name is Joe too! And same with - (starts to point to Joe Nathan, then realizes what inning it is, and stops) um..... yeah that's all I got.
YOGI: Two Joe-vannis! MWAHAHAHA!!! I will now drag you down into the firey pits of hell!!!
[Yogi grabs the two Joes and begins to drag them, kicking and screaming, through the hole in the wall. Crede attempts to smash the statue with his super-smash capabilities but it is no use. Just as they are almost gone...]
GOMEZ: JOE-vanni! Joe!!! Joe, ju-Joe Joe Joe!!! (begins dancing around Dread Pirate Nathan) Joe Joe Joe, Joe Joe Joe....
YOGI: [stops] Wait... is his name Joe too?
DP NATHAN: [look of panic] NARRRR!!!!
GOMEZ: Yes it is sillypants!
CUDDYER: [to Gomez] Dude what are you doing we need him! Did you forget to take your nap today Carlos?
GOMEZ: Joe!!!!!!!! [Gives DP Nathan a giant hug]
DP NATHAN: Awww.... yarrr....
YOGI: JOE THE THIRD!!! MWAHAHAHA!!! [Grabs Dread Pirate Nathan, who attempts to slay him with a sword, forgetting that swords don't exactly work against hard, solid objects]
CUDDYER: But...we need him!!! Who's going to pitch the 9th??
YOGI: Oh um... well you're right. Sorry about that. Here, you can have this muppet instead. It kind of looks like him... it might not pitch as well but it's the best I can do. See ya!
THREE JOES: NNnnnnnooooooo!!!!!!!
[But their protests are useless, and they are carried off by the statue of Yogi Berra. Unsurprisingly, the muppet Joe Nathan does not pitch well and the Twins lose their lead in the 9th]

[The following day]
CUDDYER: Ok guys - we can totally do this! I know we're Joe-less...but we're not alone! We still have supraction, and Ze Ubermensch, and Hot-Pants, and Jason Ku-dubel. We'll be fine, no worries!
[At that exact moment, the statue of Yogi enters again through the hole in the wall]
YOGI: Don Joe-VAAAAAA-NIIII!
HOT-PANTS: Dude.... seriously? Again?
CUDDY: You got all the Joes. Go away.
YOGI: Yeah I know but... it didn't work. It didn't avenge my death...
ALL: THAT'S BECAUSE YOU AREN'T DEAD!
YOGI: [ignoring them] .... so I figured I'd just take everyone whose name starts with a J.
CRAIN, HOT-PANTS, MIJARES, MORALES, KUDUBEL: NOOOOO!!!!
CUDDY: Wait you can't do that, you've got it all wrong! There's no Joe in Giovanni, there isn't even a J! This is completely out of control!
YOGI: Um.. yeah. Don't really care. Sometimes, when you add up two and two, you still get two of each.
ALL: Huh?
YOGI: Exactly. Goodbye friends.
CRAIN: But...this is a logical fallacy! Don Giovanni isn't even a man, he's a force of nature! A metaphor! I've read Kierkegaard dammit, you can't hide the truth! Mozart's version of Don Juan is representative of the erotic stage of...ahhhhhhh..... [his voice trails off as he is carried away].
DENARD SPAN: So... this sucks.

And suck it did. For the next three days.

All I can say is, it's a good thing I took Music 345 with Alice Hanson otherwise I'd have had no idea what happened.

So Dear Gardy - if there's anything I can do to help...anything at all... just let me know. I'd be happy to sacrifice a goat or drink 2 Nalgenes full of water in under a minute if it would help you win.

Love, Stinky.

Ze Ubermensch on Balks

Last night mi madre was wringing her hands, sighing, moaning ready to pick up a lamp and hit herself in the head when Jesse Crain came in for not one, but TWO! innings of work.

It seemed that Ze Ubermensch would acquit himself surprisingly well, until Curtis "Crashing-into-Walls-is-my-middle-name" Granderson (his monogrammed towels are pretty big) hit a triple, and then again when C. C. i. W. i. m. m. n. G. feinted to home and caused a balk, which made my mother cover her eyes with her hands. And led to the following conversation in the duggout throughout the middle and the bottom of the fourteenth:

[Twins walk dejectedly into duggout]

Crain: What is that umpire talking about? Balk! What is the meaning of this word? To fail to stop motion prior to delivering a pitch? This is a logical fallacy of the highest order!! [Kubel singles, and Nick Punto quickly runs away from Crain to pinch run] 

What is motion? The action or process of being moved, but moved through what? The rule is needlessly vague. [Span runs away from Crain to bunt Punto to second, and comes back to sit on the duggout steps rather than next to Crain] 

I will grant that motion normally occurs through space, but what of time, what of the eath's rotation. We are all of us moving at all times. To come to a "complete stop" is impossible. [Tolbert dashes up to the plate, and singles home Punto to tie the game. After sliding home Punto crawls back to the duggout to avoid Crain] 

Every second my arms move forward in the slow march of history towards their inevitable death. [Filled with this morbid thought Mauer grounds out then goes to call his mom to hear about happy things] 

And given the earth's rotation, we are each of us moved, perhaps we are only moved millimeters, but we are moved simply by staying upon this rock. [Eager to hit Morneau watches four wide pitches for an intentional walk, but asks for four more just to clear his head of Crain's gobbledegook]

Furthermore. If motion is an action, then the failure to move is also an action. An act of inaction, that therefore negates the totality of "actions" and "motions" [Cross-eyed and bumfuzzled Cuddyer fortunately watches four balls go by to load the bases]

Ultimately, the combination of external forces as well as the self-negating definition of stopping ones motion (which, as I have shown is itself a motion) the previous run should not have scored and we should have already won the game, isn't that right Joe Crede?

[Crede is the only person sitting within 9 feet of Crain, as Carlos Gomez has stuck his head in a Gatorade jug and Delmon Young is warming up for relief, Crede can only nod his head and step to the plate. His brain full of complex thoughts and notions each more complicated than the last, rendering his whole psyche a whirling torrent of the cosmos and infinite meanings of man. Then he sees a curve ball]

Crede: CREDE SMASH!!!!WITH BARBED WIRE BAT!!!!!!!!! CREDE SMASH!!!!

Crede Smash, Crede Smash Indeed.

In your face other cultures!!

I will admit, I had a minor crisis of faith tonight. We'd lost ten in a row to Toronto, we couldn't handle a rookie slugger named "Travis Snider" (which honestly sounds like a kindergarten bully), the Blue Jays took a lead early and it seemed like no matter how well Perkins pitched he was doomed to go winless again.

It looked like we might supract our way to victory. After tying the game we got two consecutive hits that went a cumulative 50 feet. A supractalicious start. Just as the Blue Jays were distracted by the bunt hit possibility Morneau bombed one against the baggy that looked caught, but was just a single thereby distracting them all.

All of them, except Rickey Romero. Who defeated Master of Supraction Michael Cuddyer (gasp!) and Greedy Joe Crede. Apparently our Supraction skillz are a tad rusty since the off-season.

When the Blue Jays tied it up again I thought...not so good. And while I left work in the middle of the 9th I was morbidly convinced that the game would end in heartbreak while I was en route home.

But Ze Ubermensch held steady with two perfect innings (even if one was a little nerve rattling). I kept imaging Ze Ubermensch informing us all of "ze power of ze UBERMENSCH!! Ze Ubermensch Allows NUH-SSSING! NUH-SSSING!!!"

But true satisfaction came in the 9th. With Justin using his new found speed to score the winning run and finally give us a win over the accursed Blue Jays.

We said at the beginning of the year that the Blue Jays are like the foreign exchange kid in baseball. (Note: I say all of this as a proud teacher of foreign students, but to teachers foreign kids are unique and charming...to high schoolers they are just irritating). Exchange kids are new (lots of rookies on the Blue Jays), they are different (they're like us, only with accents), they are not interesting enough to command your undivided attention (name a sure fire Hall-of-Famer Blue Jay...still waiting), and they seem to turn up when you least want to see them (which for the Twins is all the time). Every conversation you have is irredeemably awkward and its all you can do to get away from them. So in future, Twins, Twins fans, and any immature high schooler if you see any students like the ones pictured below: run.

One more moment from Twins-fest

Ahh, the memories of Twins Fest, the glorious memories of walking on the dome gra--tur--thing that goes under your feet. The stalls of junk, the stalls of coolness, the meetings and sightings and whatnot. Sigh.

There was one moment that Stinky forgot to describe. After we had dissed Jesse Crain, and then apologized for Jesse Crain, and failed to get a hat for my freezin' ears, we discussed the coolness of Crain's attitude.

Scruffy: "Gotta, say, I felt real bad that we didn't pay any attention to Crain."

Stinky: "Yeah, but he was cool with it."

Scruffy: "Yeah, you've gotta be a pretty cool guy to not have a problem with getting next to no fans at your signing session, and then having the fans who do come in totally ignore you because you're sitting next to Gardy."

Stinky: "Though to be fair, the only people cool enough to be noticed next to Gardy are John Locke and a Velociraptor."

Scruffy: "True. Still, he was totally cool about it."

Stinky: "Totally cool about it, that was awesome."

Scruffy: "He's menschy."

Stinky: "He's Uber-Menschy"

And thus was discovered Jesse Crain's Secret Identity. Though he may not pitch brilliantly every game, though he may not be as all powerful as the Nefarious Dr. Cakeburn, he's still a heckuva-guy, a real mensch. So, you can almost hear his voice echo through the tunnels of the dome: