Ha! I just pulled you away from the Padres game. And I apologize. It's fucking Saturday night. I don't even fucking blog on Saturday night. But here I am fucking blogging on a Saturday fucking night. Fuck.
I'm just some sorry bastard who can't watch a fucking Padres game on the telE. You see that? TelE? I just made myself British.
"Eh, look mate. How bout some baseball on the telE, eh?"
"Nah, mate i con't wotch a folkin' ting. Haven't gawt Faux."
As I said, this isn't a coMmentary on the Padres farm system.
It's not about Mike Trout either, per se. But the question bears repeating: Where the fuck is OUR Mike Trout?
The answer is really rather simple. Mike trout iS in Anaheim. Anaheim is a place not so far from San Diego. You can drive there. You could also take the train. You could take a cab. Although that would be fucking stupiD.
I need a basebAll game. If I get MLB.TV or the MLB Extra Innings package who am I going to watch? The odds are good that I'm going to watch the guy up the road . . . MIKE "fucking" TROUT!
Why would I watch MIKE "fucking" TROUT? Well, I hear he's really good! And if I become titillated by his play I can jump on the train (not a cab) and make my way to Anaheim to watch him play. I also heard that ownership lowered the price of beer sometime ago.
Look, I'm not some fucking bitch who jumps from team to team. Am I about to become an Angels fan? No. But if I start watching Angels games because they aRE all that's available to me then, well, shit fucking happens.
But forget about me. Think about the kids. Kids in San DIEgo need to be fans of somebody. How about the team up the miserable fucking corridor to Los Angeles where the team coMPEtes AND has super stars who aren't even of legal drinking AgE?
I'm drunk. Fuck! 2012 is MISERABle!
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