1. Do humans really possess free will, or are our choices, from the first burst of consciousness to the final glimpse of life, predetermined on a cosmic scale?
2. If morality is truly universal, beyond the realms of society and religion, what is the difference between right and wrong?
3. At what point does consciousness begin, and can we trust our senses to identify it, recognizing that our perceptions either affect reality or create it?
4. Will Giancarlo Stanton ever return, or is he a construct of our dwindling, alcoholic awareness?
I'm going with Number 4:
There is no such thing as Giancarlo Stanton.
What we believe to be a former National League MVP, a king of exit velo, and the biggest slugger in the history of the Florida Marlins is, in fact, an illusion.
How do I know this? Well, on a strangely common regularity, the concept we know of as "Giancarlo" appears, vanishes and then reappears, launching a new cycle to test our faith.
Every few months, we see his presence in the lineup and believe - falsely - that our heroes - the elder icon, Aaron Judge, and the newcomer, Ben Rice - are "protected." In fact, they remain naked to fastballs and sweepers, because the ghostly entity of Giancarlo cannot run 10 steps without popping a gonad, bringing disunity and disbelief to the Yankee core.
The latest Yankee dogma claims that Stanton will soon hit off a tee, and that he might return any week now, without a minor league rehab assignment. In other words, if we wait patiently on our fannies, eventually, our lives will be validated.
Listen, fools: Stanton is never coming back! Because Stanton does not exist! Our DH is Ben Rice, which really sucks, because he should be playing 1B, and everybody knows it. But as long as Goldy plays a solid defense, it's Rice at DH, and don't waste your time waiting for Stanton. If he ever does return, he'll just get hurt again. For God's sake, people, open your eyes. Soylent Green is people, TJ Rumfield is hitting .289 for the Rockies, and we're still living in a make-believe world of Jake Bird, or is it Greg Bird? Dunno. But rain outs drive you crazy, eh?
Posts
20 comments:
Judge needs Stanton. At least at this stage in his career. No great insight, but without Stanton behind him, Judge gets nothing to hit. Inevitably, he expands. He's a conscientous man who wants to help his team. The most ruthless men on the planet- men like Kevin Cash- exploit this character trait and instruct their pitchers to throw Judge unhittable slop, just as el Duque says.
The big man will take a few walks for a while. But he's such a nice guy- raised well, thinks about other people and what his production means to them, from his buddy the sub .200 hitting infielder who might keep his big league job a little longer if the team's winning, to the little leaguer on his first trip to Yankee Stadium- he can't help himself. He starts swinging at crap.
Which begets a slump. Which makes us...me anyway...want to go out into the garage, make sure the door's shut tight, and turn on the car.
I agree with all, Duque, except I might argue that life can be determined on the micro-cosmic scale, as well. ie: You might slip on that puddle of urine in the truck stop bathroom, break a clavicle on the toilet, get to the local hospital and either be healed and on your way, die of sepsis, or meeting a nasty nurse and move to that town. It's not always grand cosmic intervention at work. As for Stanton, I'll say this: the CONCEPT of Stanton is certainly a thing. Amorphous, gauzy, fleeting, but it's a thing. The REALITY of Stanton is not so much a thing as a thong, a thong in the great butt crack of life. Ought to be hot, but really sweaty, stinky and limp. What has Giancarlo done for us lately? Oh yeah, he's gotten us a lot of rings, right? (Scratching my head and counting on my fingers)
Fun weekend piece
Ought to be hot, but really sweaty, stinky and limp,
Injured so much, they call me the gimp
Stockpots of Cole chowder, simmer louder and louder sounding like grandpa’s old rusted out router.
Long as I remember the rain been comin' down
Clouds of mystery pourin' confusion on the ground
Good men through the ages tryin' to find the sun
And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?
I dunno, Publius. It is true that the Yanks have some kind of amazing record when Stanton and Judge are hitting back to back. But it's also true that that has so rarely happened, and Judge has had a phenomenal career anyway.
Certainly, you're right that Judge is trying too hard now—and is too old?—but again, this reveals the problem to be that he has NO support on the team, save maybe Rice, who is also plummeting these days.
Brilliant, AI!
Damned AI! I meant, AA!
Picking up Stanton was an enormous mistake, much worse, in its way, than the ones the Yanks have made on much worse players throughout Cashman's reign of error. His contract was so huge that it prevented Hal from either dumping him or signing numerous other players who might have made us a repeat champion.
The loss of Stanton didn't help. The lack of a bullpen doesn't help. The shitty batting order isn't helping. Boone's fawning over Volpe and how much that's hurting the team isn't helping. Wells isn't helping.
Judge is trying to make up for too many problems with every at-bat. He can't help trying. But it isn't helping.
That will, in the end, be the history, Hoss. A WS ring this year or next, unlikely as that seems, might be mildly salvific. But this really won't be the Judge era so much as the Stanton era.
"Rain
Fallin' on my window pain..."
Tells me the Yankees won't play today. Thank goodness! Two days off from watching this team try to play baseball? Not having to watch them try to beat the juggernaut that is the Tampa Bay Rays until September? This is a treat indeed!
I was so glad to see the rain that I actually looked up the weather in Kansas City, where the Yanks are headed next. (Sadly, it's supposed to be sunny and hot.)
Truly—I can't tell you what a relief yesterday felt like. Today, too, I'm hopin' an' wishin' an' prayin'. For diluvian rains. Rains so hard and unceasing that maybe they wash away the remainder of this awful season.
Rains so hard that they wash away the insipid Yankee Stadium III. Rain that washes us all the way back to 1997—right before you-know-who took over the team. Rain that washes away any and all memory of Sabremetrics or algorithms or the Three True Outcomes or juicing, so that baseball can be baseball again.
Oh, damn. It's clearing up.
So is my seasonal acne.
And thank you Hoss.
A bit of a shout out to the Bit who’s
“Ought to be hot, but really sweaty, stinky and limp” was the perfect description for that pot of Cole Chowder.
AA still resists incorporating AI in any of his creative alchemy.
Not the same can be said of our skipper, AI’Ron Boone.
I'm gonna spend the day tackling Questions 1-3. Question 4 is irrelevant.
Let us all know how that goes for you, TheC - for your experience could provide
valuable insight and wisdom to our collective, ongoing search for enlightenment here at the old IIHIIFIIC
I know that you all are just trying to fool me. This blog isn't real.
Unless he hurts himself eating his breakfast cereal.
Satire wrote
“There is no reality except in action“
Stanton is not real.
Reality is just an illusion. We are all in Cashman's matrix. There is no escape.
Satire is an interesting word for Sartre. Maybe he was just kidding.
Satre not satire.
Or was it?
Post a Comment