Braves Burgerizza, owned

So, in an attempt to entice even the most jaded baseball fans into the dying home of the likely worst-team in Major League Baseball, the Atlanta Braves rolled out a bunch of crazy food items to try and appeal to the appetites for garbage food instead of competitive baseball.  Among them was this ridiculous cheeseburger, with two pan pizzas as buns, dubbed the “Burgerizza.”  I may have posted about this prior to the start of the season, but I can’t exactly go back and check since my site is still down. 

Well, in the case of me, it worked.  I knew that I had to go to a Braves game, if for anything at all, to eat this delicious-looking abomination.  This is also why I’m fat, but that’s beside the point.

Admittedly, I had some reservations about it, because a month prior, I had failed to defeat one of the other Braves food abominations, the tater tot waffle.  It was just so starchy and carb-y, and filled me up so quickly, that I could only make it through 3/4  of it before tapping out.  In terms of mass, the Burgerizza was larger, and at $26, it was more expensive, which meant that I was risking throwing away even more money in case I couldn’t complete it.

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Social devaluation

After like two months, I decided to get off my high horse perched atop a pedestal that was boosted up on a soap box, and opened up Facebook.  I had a couple of new friend requests, some group conversations that were now a month past since the last message, and 99 new notifications that’s really more, but Facebook only registers up to 99, and apparently, only one month’s worth.  But all in all, I still don’t feel like I really missed anything.

Admittedly, I’d been peculiar about when I’d dive back in, because I didn’t really want to jump back in the midst of a tragedy, or too big of a political shit storm, and if it were up to me, I’d like to have something interesting to post about as well.  But then shit like all the killings of black people, the bombing of Istanbul airport, protests, politics and other things kept happening around the world, and if they were insufferably covered by the media, I could only imagine that the opinionating by people on social media would have been a hundred times worse.

The thing is, if I waited for the world to be peaceful for just a week, I’d probably be waiting until I was 90 years old.  So I realized that I needed to lower my expectations, and when the coast was clear for like five minutes, I dove back in.  Not to mention that I was still kind of on my high for being the first winner of the Willy’s Road Trip, and I figure it would be something somewhat interesting to post about.

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Still trying to figure this out

As is often times the natural state of rest in the City of Atlanta, I was sitting in some catastrophic traffic, and I noticed this on the minivan in front of me.  Now I think I’m pretty open-minded about the construction of family units, and I have no qualms with a mom and dad, two moms or two dads, or whatever; as long as any kids aren’t raised to become shitheads, if it works, it works.

However, it doesn’t mean I’m not going to question something if it seems unorthodox to me; like a family decal that appears to look like two dads, a mom, three children and one poop emoji with arms and legs.  Now the poop emoji might just possibly be a baby, as indicative by the baby on board placard, but I’m admittedly puzzled by the presence of three parents.  Hey, if it works, it works, but it’s still out of the ordinary by traditional standards.

Like, are they polygamists?  Swingers?  I mean, in some way all polygamists are kind of swingers.  I guess there are just more questions than anything else for me, like if there are four kids in the equation, like, are they all from the decal-ed mom?  All from one of the dads?  Or a mixture of fathers?  I’m okay with the idea of it, but it does make me cringe a little bit to think of the four kids being like two from one dad, two from the other; this, I cannot help, because I don’t imagine I would like sharing my spouse, much less for procreation purposes, but, if it works for them, it works.

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The end of an NBA era

Impetus: Tim Duncan announces his retirement after playing 19 years in the NBA

I wax poetic about professionals occasionally, in the spirit of writing about professions.  Chris Benoit was a wrestler I loved to watch.  David Ross is a baseball player that I love.  Kobe Bryant was the successful successor to Michael Jordan.  Etcetera, etcetera.

In the right context, I can appreciate damn near anyone.  I’m under the belief that under the right context, anyone can appreciate anyone if glazed in the appropriate words and descriptions.

Tim Duncan was one of my all-time favorite players, ever.  Full stop, period.

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I AM THE BURRITO KING

me with THE Willy of Willy’s

On July 1, the Willy’s Road Trip promotion began.  I knocked out eight locations off the bat.  On July 2, I knocked out ten Willy’s, including the daunting Athens location.  On July 3, I visited eight more Willy’s and on July 4th, I visited the last Willy’s and didn’t hesitate when I got to my computer to submit the photos of all my receipts.

I got notification that I was the first one in on July 5, but a brief explanation that my submission would have to be verified and confirmed before I was officially anointed the first winner of the Willy’s Road Trip.  I figured, eh, no big deal, this shouldn’t take long, and that I had nothing to worry about because I followed the rules and stayed within parameters the entire way.

But then the waiting began.  I didn’t hear back throughout the remainder of the July 5.  Did something go awry?  I didn’t hear back on July 6.  Did they dislike my tactic of getting a cheapo item at most of the locations?  I didn’t hear back on July 7.  Did they not like the fact that I didn’t blow up Twitter or social media with their hashtag?

I was getting anxious.  Why was it taking Willy’s longer to verify my handful of receipts than it took me to drive nearly 300 miles in four days to visit?

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Oh look, moar proof

Bloomberg: The Braves Play Taxpayers Better Than They Play Baseball

For all the words I’ve spent talking about how the Atlanta Braves are a bunch of money-grubbing immoral crooks in regards to the covert planning and execution of the construction of ScumTrust Park, I’ve neglected the other branches of the Braves organization, namely the minor leagues.  And despite the fact that I far prefer minor league ball over the trash at the major league level, as far as the Braves are concerned, it turns out that they’re no less despicable in other towns too.

Now I knew about the swindling of the people done in Lawrenceville, when it came to bringing the Triple-A Braves to Gwinnett, since I know people who live up there, who don’t like baseball, who are less than impressed with the idea of having to pony up extra pennies on their daily purchases, to finance a ballpark.

However, it turns out that both the Low-A Rome Braves and the Double-A Mississippi Braves are also instances where the Braves moved teams to their current homes, after basically strong-arming their previous residences, giving them a tiny window to meet gargantuan demands, and when they predictably fail, pulling the teams and moving them to towns that had been prearranged to build ballparks at the cost of taxpayers, with hopeless promises of local financial stimulation, and a benefit to all parties, but then failed and saddled debts on the public, while the Braves and conspirators are last money in, first money out.

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Oh, Mets fans

Why you so dumb?  Accused wife beater, Jose Reyes, given standing ovation and warm reception by fans at Citi Field in his first game back with the Mets.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand fully why there are Mets fans that love Jose Reyes.  Between 2006-2012, he was easily the most frighteningly good shortstop in the game.  He hit .300 from both sides of the plate, he was always a threat for extra-bases, and if he got on base, stolen bases weren’t a threat, they were expected.  His speed was unmatched, and his range at shortstop was maddening as an opposing fan, when Reyes managed to somehow be absolutely anywhere the ball was hit.

Jose Reyes was unmistakably the most exciting player in baseball for a great part of his time with the Mets.  It’s easily understandable why Mets fans loved, and still have positive connotations with him.

However it’s been a long time since 2012, when Jose Reyes won the batting title while on the Mets, before proclaiming his love for New York and then immediately signed a deal with the Miami Marlins, took his talents to South Beach, got traded to Toronto before getting traded to Colorado.  Along that journey, he (allegedly but really did) beat the shit out of his wife in Hawaii, which ultimately led to him getting suspended by Major League Baseball, and cut by the Rockies. And since the Mets have no faith in crybaby Wilmer Flores and are reliant on Asdrubal Cabrera to play shortstop, and David Wright hasn’t been close to healthy since 2014, they decided to bring the prodigal son back to where his career started.

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