As if there were any reason to like Clayton Kershaw more

I like Clayton Kershaw.  Dare I’d say, I’m a fan of Clayton Kershaw. He holds a little bit of history for me as a baseball fan; in 2008, when I really embarked on going gung-ho about visiting ballparks, and my friend and I hit up Southern California to hit up the Dodgers, Angels and Padres, the first park on the trip was Dodger Stadium. 

We had little idea of what to really expect, since neither of us were Dodgers or Cardinals fans.  We knew we’d see Albert Pujols, and I knew that I wasn’t going to see the Dodgers iteration of Andruw Jones, because he was already out on the disabled list.  We didn’t even know who was starting for either team, so on my Samsung A920 flip phone, I looked up to see Todd Wellemeyer for the Cards, versus some guy we’d never heard of named Clayton Kershaw.  Who?

Another cursory glance showed this Kershaw kid from the minor leagues who had like a 9.7 strikeouts-per-nine rate (which is extremely good) who was making his Major League debut.  Pretty cool, we thought, getting to see some hotshot prospect’s debut.

And he didn’t disappoint, either, as this Clayton Kershaw guy went six innings and struck out seven.  He didn’t get a decision, but the Dodgers went onto win the game in extra innings.  But we knew we had just seen the start of potentially a really good pitcher’s career.

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Dwyane Wade might have learned his lesson question mark

Not that I pay much attention to the NBA offseason, a headline caught my eye that revisited a topic I wrote about a long time ago: “Dwyane Wade leaning towards picking up $24 million option.”  This was amusing to me, because I remember writing about, in great detail, the foolishness exhibited by Dwyane Wade a few years ago, when he opted out of two-years, $40 million left on his contract with the Heat, thinking he could make more as a free agent, but then being grossly incorrect, and ending up signing a new deal back with the Heat for three-years, $31 million, thus losing a guaranteed $9 million on a really bad gamble.  Owned.

Anyway, it’s pretty incredible that a dwindling talent like Wade would even get the opportunity to revisit this decision, but for what it’s worth, he has name value and some talent left, and we revisit a familiar crossroads in his career, where he is looking at the choice between a one-year, $24 million option year, or declaring the scary, scary waters of free agency.  And considering the fact that he’s now 35 and his numbers have been on a gradual decline over the years, it seems like a very obvious choice on what he should consider, but then again I thought the same thing back when he took the chance anyway, and gambled away $9 million dollars.  Owned.

So it seems like kind of a no-brainer that Wade is leaning towards accepting the $24 million option year, because there’s no guarantee that he’s going to get a multi-year deal that can exceed that, let alone match it.  Although it’s still speculation, and “he’s leaning,” there’s still no guarantee that he’ll actually accept it, even if were the most ingenious idea in the world for him, but I hope for his sake that he learned his lesson in the past and will actually just take the guaranteed fuckin money and not be so greedy, although it would be the quite the hilarious story if he ended up gambling again and then ended up getting the shaft again, and signing like a two-year deal for like $18 million with like, the Milwaukee Bucks.  Owned.

Money in the Blah 2017

By the grace of god, a close friend of mine gave me his WWE Network access, so I’ve actually kind of been able to play catch up with wrestling, since I haven’t really watched any televised shows in nearly two years.  I ditched cable television in this span, so although I still can’t watch any RAW or the supposed renaissance of Smackdown that I’ve heard so much good things about, but at least I can watch NXT and pay-per-views as they come out.

And speaking of which, I was able to catch the latest WWE ppv, Money in the Bank, which I like to often describe as the storyline bailout show, since the sheer mechanism behind a one-time, unpredictable title challenge is a blessing for both fan anticipation and Creative, and can easily bail out any bad storyline choices, or add drama to existing ones.

Unfortunately, as much as things change throughout the years, some things never change either, in the world of professional wrestling.  Such as the ideal that if a ppv isn’t Wrestlemania, Summerslam, Survivor Series or the Royal Rumble, it’s basically a glorified bonus episode of RAW or Smackdown.  Money in the Bank is definitely on that B-tier of annual shows, but at least it gets to have a consistent name, and not something random and thoughtless like Great Balls of Fire (really?).

Needless to say, I was excited at the prospect of having a relatively free evening where I could watch MITB, but after the show was over, I was left with this unimpressed taste in my mouth, like when you drink a Pepsi MAX which tastes good going down, but leaves a lingering, slightly acidic and bitter twinge in the back of your throat whenever you swallow afterward.  Except the difference between Pepsi MAX and MITB is that I actually find Pepsi MAX to have been enjoyable, and was mostly meh about the rest of MITB as a whole.

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So good.  Master of None, Season 2

I’ve (attempted to) articulated before on how much I loved Netflix’s Master of None, and applauded it on its sheer realism and top-top shelf writing and direction.  The whole minority and LGBT-aware aspect of it took a back seat to the fact that it was simply a dynamite show, that I could not get enough of and was sad when the first season came to an end.

It was wonderful news when the second season was confirmed, and it was happy days all over again when I found the time to binge through the first half of it, and turned into a melancholy end of a good roller-coaster ride as I methodically watched the last few episodes.

Seriously, Master of None is pretty much on my perma-list of favorite television shows.  Ever.  Up there with Parks & Recreation, Black Mirror, and a few other titles that are probably up there that have the unfortunate distinction of being left off because they’re not as fresh on the brain.

Season 2 of Master of None did not disappoint, and I’m hard pressed to say that I didn’t not enjoy a single episode.  Even the prototypical palette-cleanser episode, I Love New York, which barely featured any of the actual cast was done in a manner that was still captivating, entertaining and generated humor in creative and believable ways.

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FRIED TO DEATH

I know there’s inherently something wrong about finding humor in someone else’s grief, but it’s not every day that you find out that a person died on account of them falling partially into a Publix deep fryer.  Sure, the article’s headline is misleading, and the title of my post is as usual exaggerated for irony, and ultimately it really makes me wonder how a person dies from just their leg getting deep fried, but it’s still an incident involving a person and a deep fryer with unfortunate results.

Before I proceed, I will say that if there was ever an opportunity to put into writing about how good Publix fried chicken is, this is as good as any, ironic as it might be.  No seriously, I put Publix on the Mount Rushmore of fried chicken, along with Royal Farms and Stroud’s, and I will fight anyone on their behalf who questions their honor as a legit best fried chicken contender.

But anyway, a story about a man who died because he accidentally deep fried his leg.  As sad as it is for his family that they have suffered the loss of a member, I can’t help but feel that it’s one of those Murphy’s Law scenarios where the victim in question, was kind of a dumbass.  I mean, sure it was his job to clean kitchen vents, but he also made the decision to stand on top of a deep fryer full of hot cooking oil in order to access the vents. 

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Honestly, this fight is probably going to suck

Anyone who likes sports in general would had to have been living under a rock if they didn’t hear about the year-plus of build-up that has finally culminated in an official set date for the next fight of the century, pitting MMA superstar Conor McGregor against Floyd “Money” Mayweather.

Let’s be real here though, the buildup was everything, will continue to be everything as we’ve still got nearly three full months until the match itself, and said match itself will be the most disappointing part of this entire saga.  Basically, this is kind of like a slightly watered down version of Mayweather vs. Pacquiao all over again, except McGregor is a way more entertaining shit-talker and as colorful and flamboyantly outspoken personality as Mayweather himself.

But the result is going to be the same, and that, I would actually wager money on: Mayweather will win via decision after 12 rounds.

As much trash Mayweather spouts, it’s kind of laughable that his boxing style revolves almost entirely around defense, dancing around for 36 minutes and occasionally landing a jab only after he’s 100% certain it will hit after endless time spent observing and circling, instead of actually boxing.  He spends 36 months talking shit, and when it comes time to throw down, he always turtles up and waits for his opponents to make the first moves before methodically playing the counter attack game all the time.

I mean really, the guy is 49-0 where 23 of them came via decision. 

I’m gonna defend myself against you to death!” 

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Braves want more taxpayer money and the sun also rises

TL;DR: The Atlanta Braves seek $20 million dollar grant from Florida to build their future Spring Training facility out in Sarasota

Whaaaat?  The Braves want someone else to shoulder the financial load for something that they want?  Never heard of such lunacy in my entire life.

A long time ago, I was in Las Vegas with a large group of friends.  Like most large groups of friends tend to do in Las Vegas, we ended up going to a strip club.  The Girls of Glitter Gulch, specifically. (RIP)  At the GGG, there was this one stripper that periodically showed up to our table, and with the vitriol that only a mad black woman can conjure up, looked at one person at the table each time and demanded, “WHERE U BEEN?  GIMME A DOLLAR!” and like five times out of five times she pulled the stunt, whomever she targeted would promptly fork over a dollar, and then she’d vanish before doing the whole thing again later.

That’s kind of what the Braves are, as it pertains to this situation in Sarasota.  Naturally, they whispered sweet nothings into Sarasota’s ear to get them all wet and excited about the prospect of housing a Spring Training facility, but when it came time to settle the check, the Braves went all Extreme Cheapskates on the city, and at first, agreed to pay for their share of the tab, but as the months went on, the willingness to contribute their share diminished, and the Braves began turning every single stone and rock over, looking for ways to minimize how much they had to contribute, and how much the city of Sarasota or the state of Florida would pay instead.

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