Dee Gordon is tight. Brian Sabean can eat fifty three dicks. Life is sad and slow.

Well here we are. After the road trip. When you play ok sometimes but still lose half your games, you end up remaining several games out of first. There is still good pitching sometimes that goes nowhere, run support sometimes, losses to shitty teams, almost winning against good teams, ultimately when you don't find ways to win, you are a loser. That last sentence was simple and stupid and sounded like something some screaming redfaced ex-relief pitching future sexual assaulter over at ESPN would say. The big leagues. It makes me sick to say shit like it but then again it makes me sick to have an ounce of hope inside this sickening season. What a fucking waste. While the young dudes are coming in and making a case for the future, the veterans (in their late 20s) who are having great seasons, especially Matt Kemp, will be somewhere else soon and then we can rebuild forever. Dee Gordon is tight. I hope he keeps it up. There is still no offensive threat at at least three positions all the time. It's stupid. Fuck it. I wanted to write about baseball fueled by the feigned hope that it can leave you with during a long summer on the grind. But instead I'm left pulling out my mustache with pliers like with the rest of 'em. Nothing more to say about it. I'll still be smoking hashblunts, screaming words out the window once in awhile, summertime now. Work and words and weed. The only ascension remains inside my mind.