Dad Brog (#156): I am a better parent than you

…at the park, at least.

With the weather getting nicer (read: not balls sticking to your leg hot anymore), I’ve really wanted to capitalize and let my kids play outside more, before it starts getting to be too chilly for outdoor play.  That said, usually on weekends where there’s really nothing on the agenda, I’ll take my kids to one of the numerous parks in my area where they can run around and play on a playground, burn some energy, and interact with other kids.

It’s not at all surprising, but it’s still a little disappointing for me to see, but whenever we go to most any park, it’s almost always the same scene; kids running around and being kids, and their parents usually posted up on a park bench, aimlessly looking at their phones.

Obviously I get it, and sometimes there’s little else I’d rather be doing than doing the same thing and indulging in mindless content and memes and games as opposed to having to be on in dad-mode as if I’m not already in dad-mode for the other 90% of my life when I’m not working.  And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t occasionally look at my phone myself when at the park with my kids, or if I’m lucky enough to be there with another trusted adult, indulging a little bit myself.

However the thing is that my phone is absolutely not the primary thing I’m paying attention to while at the park at my kids, because my kids are what I’m paying the most attention to while at the park.  Making sure they stay safe, making sure they’re getting along well with other kids or each other, and making sure nobody else’s little shits are bullying my kids.  And of course, I’ll play with my kids as well, whether they want me to chase them and play tag, push them on swings, or if they want my assistance at doing some of the things that they’re apprehensive about, like monkey bars, rope bridges, or climbing higher things.

Not that any of my fellow parents who have resigned themselves to phone zombie status would even notice, but it’s like I kind of make a point to be more active, more present and more focused on my children, because even at 5 and 4 years old, I already feel like time has zipped by, my kids are enormous, and the next time I blink, they’ll be teenagers too cool to be with their parents, and will outwardly resent and hate everything I do despite remembering they still love me.  I love watching their faces when they come down a slide, or hearing their laughter when they’re playing with each other or other kids, because I know this isn’t forever.

And I’ll even indulge other parents’ kids, if they’re playing with mine, and I’m typically happy to engage them in tag, or push them on swings or see-saws or merry-go-rounds.  Occasionally I’ll look up to see if other parents are cool with such, only to see them face-buried in their phones, completely checked out and handed off, which I find to be kind of sad.

Yeah, this does make me feel like I have a right to say that I’m a better parent than those who don’t do close to what I do, and are completely at peace with handing their kids off to the park so they can get some phone time in.  Your kids will be grown in the blink of an eye too, and if you don’t have any memories of casually playing outside with your own kids, then that’s your regret to hold and lament about, not mine. 

I typically save my phone time to when we’re at home, and I’m letting my kids get some screen time in; this is usually the time in which I indulge in my phone, while they’re watching Little Einsteins or Superkitties for the 250th time.  But when I’m outside with my kids, it’s important to me to be vigilant and be active and be participating in the things that they’re doing, and yes I do judge all the other parents who don’t and feel bad for the disingenuous memories that they’ll have for the future where they won’t be able to remember the sheer jubilation or excitement on their kids’ faces when they’re having fun, because they didn’t see them.

It’s never too late to become better.

I kind of have to respect Mercedes’ game

I didn’t mention it because life has a tendency to get all up in the way, but a little before Labor Day, I made a small trip, and my first destination was Philadelphia, where I met up with some friends so we could watch AEW live, on account of a childhood friend we have who is on their payroll and could hook us up with some tickets.  However, it wasn’t just watching AEW live, it was watching AEW live at the, now 2300 Arena, formerly known as the notorious ECW Arena, known for being the home to, Extreme Championship Wrestling.

This was very much as case of being more interested in seeing my friends and the venue itself as opposed to the actual product being shown, but honestly, it wasn’t that bad of a show, since the narrative of the whole night was leaning hard into the fact that they were at the ECW Arena.

It also didn’t hurt that our seats were front row.

Anyway, there really was no point to mentioning all that other than to just mentioned that I went to see the ECW Arena for the first time which I really enjoyed, and the whole point of this post is to, once again, talk about Mercedes Moné, seeing as how she’s hoovered up a 12th blet, and has been proclaiming herself to be better than Ultimo Dragon, and apparently, I’m not sure what prompted it, but also better than Bret Hart.

Little does she probably realize that kayfabe or not, by bringing up Bret Hart’s name in such a manner will embark her on a personal beef with the Excellence of Execution for the better part of the next three decades, but that’s neither here nor there.

Loosely tying back into my experience at the ECW Arena, I did get to see Mercedes live, in an in-ring promo where she was glorifying some new backyard promotion’s title win.  Despite being in the front row, nobody could really hear anything, because whether it’s AEW’s equipment being shitty, or the acoustics of the ratty old ECW Arena, nobody was getting any audio, but it didn’t really matter because in spite of the backhanded praise I have planned for this post, it doesn’t change the fact that she still gives really shitty promos, and on the trading card talent scale, her promos are probably at like a 2 out of 7, primarily on account of the fact that she’s not afraid to speak, it’s just she sucks at it.

But that was back on Labor Day, and as of now, Mercedes now holds 12 different blets, and finally lots of the internet are finally beginning to acknowledge that in spite of the number of blets, only nine of them are actually titles, considering the number of asterisks surrounding several of them, like the Owen Hart Tournament blet being a trophy and not an actual title, the Queen of Southside blet being technically retired and not an active blet, and I’m guessing the recently won Ring of Honor Women’s Television blet has an asterisk on account of it being an interim title, despite the fact that Red Velvet wouldn’t have a chance against Mercedes in a clean bout.

I’ve said it before, on account of some of them being not actual titles, and many of them being titles for a bunch of backyard promotions nobody had ever heard of, this whole blet collector arc for her is mostly meaningless, and if that makes me a hater to say such things, so be it, but it’s my version of the truth as far as I can see it.

I could argue with troglodytes on the internet about this topic, but I really do not want to, which is why it ends up being a brog post on a brog that nobody reads, but I have to say that I think I’m beginning to see what her large scale scope game is in doing all of what she’s doing, and if such really is the case, I think I do feel that I should respect her in this regard, because when the day is over in the wrestling business, it’s better to be hated and analyzed and criticized over being respected, heroic, but otherwise invisible.

And Mercedes is doing a masterclass job of doing what she’s doing, and getting people noticing and getting people talking.  Shit, as much criticism I have for what her character is doing, this is like my fourth or fifth post about specifically her, so whatever she’s doing is working, and in that regard, she has my respect.

And what she’s doing specifically, I would say is ragefarming, because between being the cockiest heel since prime Ric Flair, Mercedes is also taking her arrogance to the internet, dropping quotes and sound bytes, saying shit that is deliberately and tactfully setting wrestling fans off and getting them talking and interacting and engaging with her, with websites and groups and other outlets that are all scrambling to monetize the exposure.

Speaking of Flair, he used to explain that the point of being a good heel is to be so disliked and hated, that people start getting antsy and itching to see you lose, and one of the true arts of the business is being such to where they will be willing to pay money to see it happen, and I think Mercedes is doing an outstanding job of fulfilling that first part, but me personally I don’t like paying to watch wrestling other than live, but I am going to be excited if and when she starts having to drop all these blets back to their respective promotions.

In the grand spectrum of her career, it will be easier for her to parlay being a legendary heel back into a respectable face, as opposed someone who has to build up their fame and resume, and when the day comes, which I predict might be around next Thanksgiving, when Mercedes goes back to the WWE and becomes Sasha Banks again, she’s going to get a real needle-moving reaction, one way or the other, so the Four Horsewomen can have a massive blowup program with Asuka’s Team Japan with Iyo Sky, Kairi Sane and Giulia in a passing of the torch.

However, I still think the most defining period of Mercedes’s journey right now will be when it comes time for her to start returning the favor to all these companies whose blets she has right now.  My general scrutiny is that she may have stretched herself too thin to it almost being a no-win situation; if she bleeds her titles back piece meal, nobody will notice, but if she goes on a big tour of dropping titles in a sequence, a long string of L’s is going to make her look weak, and history has shown that Mercedes is not a fan of taking too many L’s in general.

If she pulls the losing her smile card, and starts relinquishing titles without having to take any defeats, it effectively kills whomever she does it to, and that’s just not good business at the end of the day, but I wouldn’t put it past Mercedes to keep this in mind if the thought of taking some losses starts to make her lose sleep.

Frankly, the only viable solutions are that a lot of companies will have to have some horsey, multi-women matches where Mercedes can drop blets without always having to take any pins or submissions, or she needs to start a feud with someone in AEW that reaches the level of hate that AJ Styles has reached in feuds with Dominic Mysterio or LA Knight, where they will be willing to cross seas and oceans in order to interfere in their matches and cost them in title defenses, thus keeping her somewhat strong in requiring interference in order to lose.

But anyways, because I’ve clearly got Mercedes unfortunately living rent-free in my head, and I’ve made yet another lengthy post overanalyzing what she’s doing, I’m wrap this up.  I think I’ve said everything that I’ve wanted to say this time, and normally I’d say I hope to not touch on this subject again, but there’s too much wrestling fandom and likely mileage in the Moné-train to not.

However, credit to where it’s due, Mercedes the Ragefarmer is holding a masterclass at ensuring people are noticing and people are talking, and in the wrestling industry such does require talent, and knowledge to parlay such reactions into positive, profitable careers.

The James Gunn Superman: Not bad, DCU

Perhaps it was the sporadic clips of the film I’d catch occasionally on theFacebook algorithm, but I finally broke down and decided to actually watch the James Gunn variant of Superman.  And I have to say that the general takeaway from the experience was that it wasn’t a DC comics flim that left me wondering why DC even bothers trying to compete in the comic book film space in the first place.

Considering how low the bar is for DCU films, I do have to admit that JG Superman was pretty decent.  For starters, they jump right into the film without any sort of lore-building for Superman, because at this point in existence, it’s a safe bet that anyone who is taking the time to watch this film more than likely already knows the general nuts and bolts about the character without needing to expend 30 minutes of build-up.

That being said, that’s one of the endearing things about the film, is the fact that they don’t really treat the viewer like they’re idiots.  That, and occasionally injecting some moments of levity and humor, like the MCU had been doing over the last few decades was a good touch to help give brief reprieves and passive reminders that this was still a comic movie and comics are supposed to be entertaining and sometimes humorous.

Mr. Terrific was probably my favorite character in the film, and I’ll be honest I have no idea who he was prior to this, but after watching the film, I’m more inclined to Google him and learn more about him, and potentially be excited to see him again if he ever pops up in a future DCU production in the future.

But I think what made the film better than most other Superman films in the past, is the fact that this was a very vulnerable and generally nerfed edition of Superman.  As the comics have demonstrated throughout history, when Superman is too overpowered, he gets old, really, really quickly.  Like it’s no fun at all if every adversary is a finger flick away from defeat, and there are all sorts of plot holes that can emerge from an over-reliance on Kryptonite in order to create any modicum of adversity to ‘ol Kal-el.

However, JG Superman starts off the flick by getting his ass beat, and throughout the duration of the film, without giving too much away, Supes definitely gets his ass beat up quite a few times, and actually faces hardship and difficulty throughout the film, and although we the viewers all know he’ll prevail in the end, at least we might actually feel like he’s earning it, instead of just spamming his god-like power minutely and winning decisively.

That’s really all this post is about, the JG Superman was a DCU film that didn’t suck.  I don’t feel compelled to blurt out hater-iffic bullshit like, stick to animation, why does DCU even try, and things that thousands of other nerds on the internet have probably already said before.  Sure, it is mostly on account of it following a lot of MCU tropes, but if something works and you’re not utilizing it, that’s on you.

It will be interesting to see if the DCU can actually parlay this variant of Superman into an actually decent overarching DCU universe, much like Marvel did, and if they can built up a streak of positive equity, or if it will crash and burn like a lot of their previous attempts to world-build.

The Dodgers are inevitable

Here’s the thing about writing about baseball playoffs: if you don’t write for a living and are financially obligated to have the time necessary to write about baseball at a moment’s notice, you’re probably not going to do so until you have available time to do so.  Which then makes you me, where I never have any time to write about things on a moment’s notice no matter how much I might think I have something that will read remotely readable, so you get to it when you can get to it.

However, the baseball playoffs go at such a rapid pace, if it takes me about 5-7 days to get to something, literally two rounds of the playoffs could have ended by then, which is sort of what did happen to me in this case.

At first, I wanted to write about Balakey Snell, and add onto how he clearly saves all of his effort for second half of the year, after he absolutely shut down the Reds in the Wild Card round.  The man has made a career of dodging work in the first halves of the seasons, with the two exceptions being the two years where he played with his balls on fire in order to win Cy Young Awards, which coincidentally aligned up with upcoming arbitration and free agent payday, to which once he got a contract, he’d loaf the first half of every year, faking injuries and suppressing his talent, and then going gangbusters the second halves of every year like clockwork.

But then the Dodgers won two games immediately to advance out of the Wild Card round, and onto the Phillies, where I wanted to write about the joys of watching two teams I dislike having to duke it out amongst each other, and when push came to shove, I’d have to support the Phillies over the Dodgers because frankly I don’t give a shit who wins the World Series – as long as it’s not the Dodgers.

Unfortunately, the Dodgers breezed through the first two games of the series, and put the Phillies on the brink of elimination, and mythical wife put game 4 on television as background noise, leading me to passively watch as I witnessed players on both teams flailing away pitifully as if it were me playing a video game, racking up strikeout after strikeout, and I actually found the game to be almost unwatchable, at how place discipline has clearly eroded tremendously over the last decade in which I’d gradually reduced how much baseball I watched.

I got triggered over how the TBS broadcasters, one of which turned out to be former Brave Jeff Francoeur, whom I’d had a contentious opinion of over the years, but the two of them just could not stop fellating themselves over Japanese rookie, Roki Sasaki, whom the Dodgers had decided to stash away entirely, unleashing him as their tentative playoff closer, which was working to great effect.

To Roki’s credit, he did pitch masterfully, pitching three perfect innings in relief, but at the same time the Phillies would have swung at kickballs being rolled on the ground by virtue of their complete lack of plate discipline, but it was obnoxious as fuck listening to the commentary of two dorks with the same gigantic weeb fetishes that MLB really loves  to push.

But then the Phillies were eliminated and it was onto the NLCS, in the blink of an eye.  In the first game, Balakey Snell pitched another gem, going eight, near-perfect innings, adding to the ridiculous talent suppression narrative, but before I could write about that, game 2 happened the following night where Yoshinobu Yamamoto pitches a complete game, the Dodgers win, and the sports world is jizzing all over the place at A Glorious Nippon baseball player demonstrating such brilliant mastery in the playoffs, much to my annoyance.

Meanwhile, golden boy Shohei Ohtani has been completely invisible for the second October in row, going 1-for his last like 20 or so at-bats, but nobody wants to dare hear ill about their demi-god.

I had a great analogy for a writing topic about how MLB feels like the League of Legends LCS scene where every team in every region came to the collective conclusion that they need to import as many Korean players onto their teams as they could, leading to a few years of hilarity where teams all over North America, Europe, China and even teams in Brazil, all had two Korean players on their rosters. 

And how MLB feels like it’s headed in that direction where teams are going to be scrambling to gobble up Japanese players because they’ll all buy into the notion that they need them in order to compete, and that the Dodgers are just one of the earliest teams to really exploit the system, much like teams like Fnatic, LMQ and G2 were early adopters of hoarding Koreans in LCS, before all teams eventually picked up on it and began poaching Koreans left and right.

But that brings us to the present, where the Dodgers won game 3 of the NLCS, where they now have a near-lock to make the World Series because no team except 2004 Boston Red Sox had ever come back from an 0-3 series deficit to win four in a row, and everything I wanted to make dedicated posts about are already in the past and not worth dedicating entire posts about anymore.

And all I really have to say at this point is the subject of this post – the Dodgers are inevitable.  They didn’t just buy themselves a loaded roster, they bought themselves a loaded roster, intelligently.  That’s the one major separator from them and every other team in baseball history that has thrown cash around like they were at a strip club, but resulted in no positive results.  Sure, some of them were victimized by the hot team, but this era of Dodgers has appeared to be hot team-proof.  No hot team or higher seed really makes a difference when they get loaded up into a short series with a team that has this much pitching depth, amassed effective relievers from other teams, and has this many available bats on their roster, all of which seem to be drunk enough on the Kool-Aid to not be letting any toxic egos into the equation.

I doubt I’m the only one who came into the playoffs with this sense of dread at seeing the Dodgers in, because most anyone who follows the game knows that they’re the team to beat, no matter where they were seeded going into it.  And sure enough, the Dodgers did what they were built to do, which is that they decimated the Reds and the Phillies, and have decimated the Brewers and by the time this day is over, could very well be en route to the World Series, yet again.

Like I said, I really don’t care who ultimately wins the World Series, but I really hope it’s not the Dodgers.  The fact that I would have preferred the Phillies over the Dodgers speaks volumes for those who know me.  If I had a preference, it’s the Seattle Mariners I’d rather see become champions for the first time in their franchise history, but I have no beef with the Blue Jays either.

But regardless of who comes out of the AL, I don’t like either of their chances against the amount of ammunition the Dodgers have, and they’re currently playing in a dominant manner that’s giving me some serious 2005 White Sox vibe, where their starters are just on another planet right now, delivering dominating performance one right after the other after another.  Even if they got completely bodied by the Angels all year.

This is most definitely one of those cases where I’d love to be wrong, and being right about an inevitable fucking Dodgers victory, will bring no joy whatsoever.

I think I’m entering that stage of life

Actually, there’s no thinking that I’m entering it, the reality is that I’ve already entered it, it’s just that there’s a part of me that has been kind of in denial about it, and the reality is that we’re like at, phase 2 or 3 of it now instead of just entering it.

I’m talking about the point in our lives where a parent(s) begin to lose their independence, and for lack of a better term, we’re entering the end game phase of life.  It’s been going on with my dad for the better part of the last two years, with an increase of health ailments and incidents, loss of balance and falls, and an increase of medications, doctor appointments as well as just general concern for well-being from my sister and I.

My dad is getting up there in age, and it’s a tough pill to swallow that with every single medical incident, he’s getting closer and closer to the exit, than rebounding back to the independent and capable hard-working dad that’s been in my life.

Naturally, this is nothing out of the ordinary for most kids who care about their parents, and I’ve bore witness already to many close confidants in my life to have gone through this stage of life themselves.  I’ve been to more funerals over the years than I care to admit, but at the same time, such seems to be one of those rites of passage that simply exists on the passage of time, and if we’re being honest here, it’s probably only going to increase as time progresses.

However, it’s different in the sense that it’s now in progress with my own parent now, seeing him gradually deteriorating from the effects of Father Time, he who is undefeated and undefeatable.  It’s not just a sense of sadness and melancholy at it being my turn, as much it’s a whole lot of increasing stress at working with my sister to make sure that he’s not being preyed upon by predatory service providers, from home repairs, realtors, to any crook  out there hoping to take advantage of vulnerable seniors.

It’s frustrating, because my sister and I are constantly skating around this line where my dad is struggling with losing his independence and facing his own mortality and making a lot of questionable decisions independently, but then there are times in which the man won’t make a decision to save his life, and is waiting on my sister or I to make them for him, before he inevitably doesn’t like it and then protests it.  It’s like dealing with my 4-year old sometimes.

In his perfect world, he’s able to tie up all loose ends, sell his home and seamlessly transition into some sort of senior/assisted living to where he can live out the remainder of his life comfortably.  Obviously, seldom is life that accommodating, so in my perfect world, my sister and I are able to get him out of his house where he’s one really bad slip trip or fall from dying discreetly, into a good senior/assisted living facility, and then we can close up shop on our own, retroactively.  It’s just that we’re dealing with his abrupt changes of mind and quick trigger when it comes to deviating from any sort of plans that have already put into motion, mostly on account of his all-too Korean tendency to listen to friends and peers above his own children.

Honestly, I’m trying to get my dad down to Georgia, to get a clean slate and live out the remainder of his life down here closer to me.  I have a place in mind that I think would be very ideal, and unlike the money-driven cesspool that Northern Virginia is, rent is not asset-based flexible (read: flexes based on how much liquidity you have), and my dad would probably be able to comfortably sustain his living conditions on his SSI and retirement income without bleeding out financially.

But the clock is definitely ticking, in that we have to move expediently to get him out of isolated living, and into a facility where he can at least get daily wellness checks to make sure that he doesn’t fall and there’s nobody remotely close to help out with.

All the same though, I feel as if I’m in end game, and I hope to make the best of the time that I do have left with my dad, and bringing him down to Georgia would be a very positive initial step.

Happy Trails, Roy Hobbs

AP: Actor and activist, Robert Redford dies at the age of 89

Throughout the long history of the brog, I’ve been saddened by the passing of many notable figures and shared my words and thoughts for those whom have meant the most to my general existence.  I’ve stated numerous names, of individuals who really had massive imprints on my general state of life, those whom help mold, shape or have a permanent residence at the forefront of my brain.

Guys like Sonny Chiba, Dikembe Mutombo, Kevin Conroy emerge quickly, as people for whatever reason or contributions to the shit I’ve seen in my life, always maintained permanent resident status in my head, and even to this day, guys whom I’ll make references to or think about when it comes to the countless analogies and metaphors and comparisons that I make when thinking about things around the world.

Well, Robert Redford is up there on that echelon of individuals in the world that left an indelible mark in my life, and I’m feeling melancholy about hearing about his passing.  I can’t really say that I’m so much sad about it considering he was 89 years old and had clearly lived a full and prosperous life, but for those that will miss him the most, my heart goes out to.

However, I should be more specific, that my general fandom and appreciation for Robert Redford stems from a role he played in a film, based on a book that also left an indelible impression in my life, which is The Natural by Bernard Malamud.  After falling in love with the book, the movie was enjoyable, which really opened my eyes to who Robert Redford was, as he was portraying the intrepid Roy Hobbs, the former pitcher turned old rookie wunderkind, crushing home runs all over the place with this homemade baseball bat.

And although the film didn’t portray it like the book did, Roy Hobbs was a human vacuum cleaner of a legendary eater, prompting one of my oldest friend groups and I to use his name as inspiration for whenever we wanted to destroy buffets all across Northern Virginia and eat like Roy Hobbs was trying to fill the void left in his heart from the early baseball career he never had.

Furthermore, Roy Hobbs became something of a pseudonym for me through a variety of online endeavors, like the pen name I wrote through on Talking Chop and a variety of other Vox websites, and was usually my go-to when it came to utilizing an online handle on gaming platforms like Xbox Live or League of Legends.

Regardless, through Roy Hobbs I learned Robert Redford, and although Roy Hobbs was but just a single role played in a legendary career, whenever the thought of Roy Hobbs emerges in my brain, it’s Robert Redford that I see, and for that alone, made me a fan of Robert Redford.

It’s funny, because as learned of his existence was I made aware of just how much work he’s done in Hollywood, for Hollywood, and the film industry in general, but it wasn’t until really reading several obituaries and tributes to the man did I realize just how much more he did, as far as his support for independents beyond just Sundance, as well as his activism, trying to make the world a lesser pile of shit than it is on the regular.

Robert Redford was truly an extraordinary human being, and it’s like I discovered him in a reverse order sort of fashion; gravitating towards him on account of a singular role, but then learning more about him after the fact, as opposed to the other way around.

It’s a sad day in Hollywood, film and even literature to hear about the passing of Robert Redford, but at least as far as I’m concerned, he’ll always be relevant and worth mentioning, if for anything at all, being the guy who was Roy Hobbs.

I always knew Ken Rosenthal was a little prick off-camera

Yahoo: FOX sports reporter, Ken Rosenthal, getting dragged on the internet for his behavior of inadvertently knocking over a photographer and giving him a death stare instead of any sort of apology or help getting up

I’d be willing to wager that lots of baseball fans whom might have a shred of similar thinking to I might, probably all agree that there’s something about Ken Rosenthal that probably gives off this air of potential dick.  And then seeing video evidence of him accidentally trucking some poor Brewers photographer, and then instead of any sort of offering to help or motion of remorse, he just stands glaring down at a prone person on their back, uncomfortably long, before returning to conduct an on-field post-game interview; that’s all the internet needed, to race to the conclusion that most of us probably already hypothesized – Ken Rosenthal is a douche.

I mean just look at him, with his vast collection of dorky bow ties and his spray tans and bleached teeth.  Always ready with an artificial smile for the camera.  I get that he’s in media, and he’s trying to cultivate a brand for himself, so that he’ll always remain employed and not lose his job to some hotties working their way up in sports journalism.  But there’s always been this air of arrogance and inflated sense of entitlement that he belongs in MLB reporting or something that I can’t really capture in writing, but just trust me bro, it’s there kind of feelings.

Like, if you were to ask him about baseball in general, I bet he wouldn’t be able to name all 30 MLB squads, or be able to snap back with a favorite player if asked.  There’s just something about his whole presentation and existence that seems fake and artificial and just like this dorky little brother syndrome of clinging to MLB coverage that nobody would really miss if he were gone,

And then he has to go and get caught on video, reacting abruptly and as genuine as a quick reaction makes us do, and of course he gets a pass for running into a person, everyone in existence has done that before.  But it’s the death stare, and the disrespect, and the sheer lack of regard for another human being that has gotten the internet up in arms, and I am here for the Ken Rosenthal dragging, because the Braves suck, and it’s shit like this and all the Dodgers’ close no-hitters getting fucked that sustain my interest in a fledgling baseball season.

Seriously, the way Rosenthal was glaring down at this poor photographer, the closest thing I could liken it to was when Scottie Pippen dunked all over Patrick Ewing in the 94 playoffs, and then stood over him and glared down.  That’s the level of disrespect I gathered from this five second moment of him, and it entertains me tremendously seeing how such did not go unnoticed from the rest of the internet as well, and the ensuing reactions from all over the internet.

Especially funny are all the other rando people on the internet all basically saying the same shit I am of, I knew he was a [pejorative] all along, and then they cite the same shit that I did, most notably the bow ties.

Either way, I’m sure some calculated and hackneyed apology that nobody is going to buy is on the way, but as far as blunders of the 2025 MLB season, as entertained as I was by asshole Ken Rosenthal, I don’t think he’s going to have a snowball’s chance in hell at toppling Philly Karen.