Santana Winds

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Mr. Poopypants

The Minnesota twins just traded two-time Cy Young winner Johan Santana to the National League East. To the mets. The mets?!? Why not the cubs? They have money to burn. Or how 'bout those mariners? Their farm team is way deeper than the mets. twins management could have brought home some prospects that gave their fans some reason to go on. Instead, they will watch Carlos Gomez run in circles in center field.


Dork


Why the mets? Why not just send him on a nice long holiday some place where there is no baseball? Like Montreal. Those of us who are fans of NL East teams whose names do not begin with "m" would like to send an extra G.F.Y. to Carl Pohlad. It's not overstating the issue to say that:

This changes everything.

First the facts:

* The twins did not want to lose Santana. Duh. He's a left handed, fireball throwing, automatically-add-8-wins-to-your-season animal. But a couple of months ago, Johan explained to Minnesota fans that $80 million dollars over four years wasn't going to pay the bills. "It's not you, it's me," he said. "Me me me."

† The yankees, red sox, and mariners all looked more likely to nab the prime-of-career southpaw, but the mets showed remarkable patience.

p Once the sox realized they really didn't really need to spend the money, the yankees sobered up and backed away too.

l Meanwhile, Seattle is said to have settled for the cute chick standing next to the hot stripper, Erik Bedard of the o's. That is, unless Peter Angelos queers the deal.

z That's when NY slitthered in and started buying drinks and flashing cash. They eased Santana away from the twins in exchange for Carlos Gomez, Phil Humber, Kevin Mulvey, some roofies, and Deolis Guerra.

The Nationals play seven series against the mets this season. It's reasonable to estimate that they'll look at Santana as the starter four or five times in the 18 games scheduled. Is that right? Because I'm just guessing. I'm spit-ballin'. So if that's correct, I'll go further to guess that Santana wins, like ... what ... 3 of those games ... at least. Spread the same Scientifically Derived Analysis across the braves, phillies, and marlins, then add this reality - Pedro Martinez is the met's #2 pitcher. That's seismic activity in the NL East, my nillas.

It'll be very interesting to see how well former Nat Brian Schneider catches in ny with egos and talent on the mound as big as US 193. He's proven in DC that he is a phenom at guiding young pitchers and calling great games. Young guys tend to listen to the catcher's advice more. Older guys are called "ace" because they act like Tom Cruise in Top Gun. But if you think back to some of the games that were blown by older pitchers shaking off Schneider's calls, you may recall that our catcher doesn't respond well to contradiction. Also, New York fans? mets fans? When things aren't going well? That ain't Washington or Minneapolis either, dude. We might witness Schneider's head explode. Let's just hope he's standing in the bullpen when it happens.







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Maybe it's our turn to piss away the division lead

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The Nats bought Paul Lo Duca from the Mets for $5 mil, and then he went and popped his 35 year-old, juiced-up knee. We sure hope he finds a way to heal quickly after the surgery.


2007 file photo. (Pablo Martinez Monsivais, File / AP)

Medical imaging of Paul Lo Duca's knee

So ... they bought Johnny Estrada, who was traded to the Mets in the off season.


4 seasons, 4 teams. Johnny E - MLB Lot Lizard


If Estrada gets hurt, they're gonna have to buy back Brian Schneider ... from the Mets


Photo by Matthew Girard-Washingtonian. In real life, Brian's more colorful.


The Nationals treat the Mets like their own personal Target. Cincinnati is Wal-Mart.





Target - The Gettin' Place.





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HBD Stevo Devo

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We played Stratego, Graywolf, Contraption, Pong, and Connect Four. We
rescued squirrels, murdered songbirds, jumped ramps, and shot each other
(five pumps or less rule). We covered up. We ate bread-butter & sugar,
chicken and rice, Fruit Loops, pork chops, and fluffernutters.
We drank everything. One time, you and Paul Hickner drank everything in
one afternoon. We snuck out through the basement door. We stole the car.
We mowed the lawn with a fucking Toro lawnmower that you had to crank to start. We dressed like idiots, because we were good at it. Now we're old
and ruling our own little corners of the planet together. We won the
world AND the camper. This is crazy good fun. I love you like a brother.
Happy birthday.










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MWSF08 8-P

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Hello, I'm a Mac.
" ... and I'm a ... Mac, too."
" ... and I'm ... a Mac."

The staff and management of The Nationals Post is at the MacWorld Expo in San Francisco this week. While 10 billion Mac Geeks swarm around frothing about the new Mac laptop, we stand in a corner with one dude who is wearing an tattered Oakland A's cap. We are bitching about Billy Bean, Paul Lo Duca, and the designated hitter rule. This is easily the best conversation we've had all week, including our chats with corporate titans and California Girls.

It is 60º and sunny here today. In the DC area, 2 to 6 inches of snow fell today, we hear from CNN and see on our iPhone. There is too much to see and do here, but we'd clearly prefer to be sledding or attending the Nats Winter Caravan events.

While here, at least we found some cool people at a small search engine company, who showed us an ultra cool new feature in Google Maps. 20 or so US cities now have STREET VIEW. We were able to look at the Indian Oven Restaurant by doing the following:

1) Go to Google Maps

2) Input the Indian Oven street address of 233 Fillmore Street, San Francisco, CA 94117

3) Click STREET VIEW in the top right corner.

4) Look at a pic of the restaurant.

Those guys are pretty neat, but I still prefer sledding with El and Ro.

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New Candy Coming Out

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It's the sweetest thing you ever eight.

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OH NO NOT I

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Strange manpower situations in the Washington Nationals Baseball Club these days. They have two guys who can hit hard and cover first base well. Which one plays? The one who covered for them all last season, or the guy who is allegedly now fully recovered from that cringe play that shattered his femur two Septembers ago? What happens to the other? The outfield is a possibility, but it's already littered with talent. That's another sticky wicket. Maybe Dmitri Young could take over if/when Elijah Dukes gets himself into more legal troubles, and Nick Johnson could settle back in at first, but that's taking a rather dim view. A negative outlook is not attractive, and people tend to let one know when one's uncomeliness is hanging out. When it was recently noted in this space that these days are hard, cold days, the slapback was immediate and terrible. Never-you-mind that that kind of reaction is proof that folks are a bit edgy this time of year. Of course there are a lot of good things going on. Some of my favorite people were born in the dead of winter.




The mailbox is stuffed with gardening and bulb catalogs, and landscaping plans are open to all possibilities. So that's good. Nick Johnson is said to be healthy and running bases. Ryan Zimmerman's wrist is healing nicely from surgery. The Spring Training schedule has just been released.

The problem is that we're all too sick. At home, and in the workplace, people are hacking and coughing and rasping like the Black Death is making the rounds. Eyes are glassy and noses are stuffed. And yet we soldier on. The job gets done and the dog gets fed. Ellen caught the Ack, then it hit Ro. It is bashing at my gates right this moment, but I am fighting. We are a strong people, that's the point. Perseverance is the tool we use to trudge through these days en route to the sunshine, flowers, and batting practice of spring. Even in this uncaring environment, even if our lips look like molted snake skins and our skin looks covered in chalkdust, we will not only survive, but thrive. We will light warm fires and conserve body heat by sharing the blankets. Oh yes! We will persevere!

Welcome Back, Flapscrap!

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The editors and staff of The Nationals Post are delighted to welcome back a fellow blogger who has been out of touch for quite a little while now. Although he appears the tiniest bit rusty, what matters most is that he logged in, and clicked on NEW POST.




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I've got to get these scat photos organized or I'll go crazy

Ever turned off the "moderate filtering" setting on Google images? It's a time-passer, I'll say. While arguing with my boss about the economy and taxes yesterday, I was looking for a chart showing the national debt since Reagan. I Googled some pretty innocent phrases like "trickle down" and found that pretty much anything you enter returns at least some porn.

In particular, the FX sector of the porn industry (Feces and eXcrement) seems to be exploding. Talk about supply side economics! Talk about your derivatives! Talk about a bubble that's certain to burst! And don't get me started on asset allocation and bell curves!

I know some people who could really get in on the ground floor just providing product to the FX sector of the dirty movie (now, don't get me started!) business.

Anyways. We're Googling away and, splat! "Did you see that? Did -- did you see that?" A naked lady making a doo-doo. What's that about? I mean, I'm not shocked, I'm not delicate, but I have to admit I'm dismayed. I just want to say, "Hey sexyturd.com, why are you so into the scatology? Why so literal? You're so into it that you've got your own website about it and -- I'm sorry to say -- you kind of hit people over the head with it. Over on the left you've got a list of recommended links to other poop sites. Are there any you rejected, or do you just accept whatever comes down the chute?"

Or maybe it's not an obsessive fetish, but just some guy (we know it's a guy, right?) who had a whole pile of photos of poop-covered gals scattered around the den and he just wanted to get them all into a relational table structure or searchable archive. Maybe he just thought, "Well, it's an enormous heap of snapshots. I can't just shit-can them." Hell, I looked twice at them, right? I'm the first to say I took a look. When I happened upon them. Unawares. In hindsight, I'm pleased to say I'm not in the targeted demographic for this material. And that my boss and I pinched off the taxation conversation and turned instead to social conservatism.

Morning epiphany

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Statistics are meaningless. If they were at all true, both shoelaces would break at the same time.






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Dave says

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"Thanks from the breakfast burrito. It was like toast, when you really want toast."







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Holiday spirit found dead in dumpster

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Peace on Earth and Merry-good Happiness have been canceled. Now it's just the middle of the damn winter. And no, that door won't be held for you. If you ain't got no money, get a j.o.b., because no pseudo-army is going to come rolling up to your hellhole with a truckload of gifts. And you know those self-help items you were gifted by well-meaning relatives? Yeah, either burn them or put them under your mattress. You friends and co-workers will no longer be cutting you any slack.

The same goes for baseball. December was full of wonder! Sugarplum trades! Candy cane acquisitions! For the naughty boys of summer, the Mitchell Report.

Roger Clemens has already hired a private investigator to ... do something ... who knows what. Maybe the PI can find something that shows The Rocket not using steroids. If he manages that, Pete Rose would probably hire him to dig up evidence of him not gambling on baseball. To get the new year started off right, José Canseco reserved the entire front page of the New York Daily News to send Alex Rodriguez and all his ol' pals holiday greetings.

November and December have Thanksgiving and Christmas to keep the white man docile. January is brutally hostile. Start off the month by getting screaming drunk. We end it by watching 350 pound men-beasts destroy each other in a gladiator arena while devouring sausage products washed-down with cans of beer. All the while, the weather is frozen hell.

February is no better! The ice might turn to frozen mud, but spring is nowhere in sight. Our only distractions are Groundhogs Day and a required gift-giving session mid-month. Oh, and what the hell, let's just tack on one extra day to February this year with a subtle suggestion that we all jump off a building.

Winter is rough on all mammals. The herd is thinned and the survivors understand the Real Rules. Our heat pumps and slippers and R19 insulated shelters usually protect us from harsh reality, but not so this January 2008. The humans are agitated and someone must be thrown to the lions. Florida sunshine and spring training banter is too far-off to even ponder. For now, wear layers, don't talk much, and watch your back, because nobody else will.

"Part of it is that major league baseball has been incredibly passive on this issue to the point of condoning it. And so, who do I think is mostly at fault? The commissioner, frankly, for tolerating it and for not having the guts to step up and say we need changes and if you don't agree with me, then find someone else to run this corrupt process."

- Congressman Stephen Lynch

Take it down, or the neighbors will burn it down


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