Not feeling particularly thankful these days

A few times, I’ve seen memes about how dads in general often suffer depression in silence, primarily on account of the fact that nobody cares about their feelings or emotions.  Family, friends, the royal everyone, either people are too wrapped up in their own lives to concern themselves about the emotional/sanity state of some other men, or there’s some credence to the umbrella statement that nobody cares about the feelings of dads.  And occasionally, there are times where I kind of feel this, and I’m just to broke ass poor to afford therapy, and I try to find it in exercise and writing.

Here’s a transcription of what I vomited to my phone because I was having a shitty morning and I felt like I wanted to write about it but didn’t want to chance it to forget the things I was thinking because I was in the car and I always think well in the car, which of course I do, because it’s a place and time in which I am completely incapable of jotting down my thoughts, because life really loves to fuck around with me when I’m generally unavailable:

It’s one of those mornings where nothing is going right. I am thankful for nothing. Forgot to eat breakfast because my kids got up early because they’re sick because every time we send them out of town they come back sick which sucks.  Work sucks, family sucks. Technology doesn’t work.  It’s frustrating.  It’s raining, I’m not feeling very thankful, family in disarray.  I don’t have time to catch up on anything.  I have to clean my house but I live with slobs and kids.  I can’t Black Friday shop.  I can’t have time to watch wrestling or Pluribus or Peacemaker or Netflix.  I never have any time for myself.  I bend over backward for everybody, nothing is ever reciprocated.  My mind is in a dark place.  Everything is frustrating.  Venting to nobody is cheaper than therapy, gym and writing is my therapy.  Memes about dads who suffer in silence and nobody cares feels very poignant and true.  (My) Dad is being weird about his possible future home, ungrateful and lecturing me about my flaws.  BP is getting worse and not sure if it’s just medication or stress and it’s affecting shit like my vision and health

So yeah, a lot to have unpacked to my phone through diction, but at least I was able to more accurately get a lot of shit off my chest and be able to look at it and analyze the things that are eating at me, and it’s not lost on me the irony of complaining about not having any time to do certain things, and then prioritizing writing about complaining about not having any time when I could be doing something more leisurely and entertaining instead, but that’s just how eternally important writing is to me over just about anything else.

But yes, to the point of the subject of this post, I’m not feeling very thankful at the very moment.  Things are very volatile, draining, and not good for my levels of stress, and I’m sure which are contributing to my escalating blood pressure issues, which is its own chicken and egg situation, where I don’t know if the increased stress is causing my BP to increase, or if the increase in my BP is what’s causing me to feel like I’m falling apart physically at times, with headaches and degrading vision.

I have to clean my house up for Thanksgiving, which seems like an extremely daunting task because everyone I live with is a slob and the house is perpetually bordering on needing to contact Discovery to reboot Hoarders: Buried Alive, or at least it seems to me, and of course there’s only one day to do it, although I could be starting it now but it’s just so daunting and I’m depressed that I can’t bring myself to do it without giving myself at least a little bit of time to brog and vent first.

At the very top of the list of stressors though is my dad being down in Georgia testing out a facility that he could very well potentially move into, which in one hand seems like the best end of life option, but on the other hand it means he’s close and accessible to me, and he’s already been weird and a pain in my ass in just the first few days of spending a ton of time with him.  Honestly, I don’t think things were as daunting in my life until this shit started ramping up, and I feel like it’s a contributing factor; the straw that broke the camel’s back as far as my BP elevating, and probably necessitating an alteration in medication.

Everything else, like work pissing me off, my kids being sick, me being exasperated with technology, etc, that’s all just background noise.  It’s the bullshit that takes an annoyed mood and turns it into bad ones, ragey ones, and the over the top frustration which lead to limit break diction rants into my phone like the one up above.

All the same though, the timing of it all, while we’re on the cusp of Thanksgiving, has me feeling not very thankful for a whole lot right now, even though there very much is, I’m just not feeling it at this very specific moment in my life.

I get it, but I really really don’t like it

ICYMI: John Cena defeats Dominic Mysterio, wins the Intercontinental championship for the first time in his career, becoming a Grand Slam Champion with less than five appearances left in his career

Lord, I always heard that this was a possibility during the whole John Cena retirement tour, and it was always something that I had hoped really wouldn’t happen.  And with the clock winding down, I thought we had hit the point where it couldn’t possibly happen on account of the lack of time remaining on Cena’s tour in order to make the handoff of the IC title remotely meaningful.

But, the WWE is all about creating moments, and short-term bursts of dopamine for fans, and long gone are the days where openly outgoing talent would eat a shit ton of losses on the way out, including the last one, to really drive home the notion that nobody is bigger than the business, and to metaphorically pay back the industry by booting future stars by taking losses.

I’m not saying John Cena hasn’t been taking his share of L’s over the last calendar year, and for the most part, I’m of the opinion that the retirement tour has been handled pretty well and I’ve found a lot of it to be enjoyable, but I have to say that the most recent development in the tour is one part, that I absolutely disagree with and do not like, at all.

Dominic Mysterio has been so carefully curated all year long, protected and booked so brilliantly, winning the Intercontinental championship at Wrestlemania, and then Mexico’s AAA Mega Campeonato, all while navigating through Liv Morgan’s injury, the Judgment Day’s tumultuous camaraderie, and being chased by guys like AJ Styles, Rusev and Penta.

He has defeated all challengers throughout the year, and has shown tremendous growth in character, and honestly, has been one of the only male performers I really bother to keep tabs on.

Feeding him to John Cena, and losing the Intercontinental blet at this stage of the game is something that disappointed me tremendously as a fan, and really makes me wonder if E Creative™ really has a good idea where they’re going with this, or if they’re just eager to check off that very last feel good accolade for John Cena, as to make sure he has every single honor there could be, even if it meant coming at the expense of one of their most valuable long-term assets in Dominic Mysterio.

It also takes a big crap all over all of the guys who have been chasing Dominic Mysterio throughout the year, like AJ Styles, Rusev and Penta, because Dom has been going to war with them all year, cheating and beating them dirty, but then he takes a 10 minute loss to John Cena like it was 2013 all over again, and there’s something about the whole act that makes me feel like a year’s worth of booking has been disrespected and peed on just a little bit.

Like, the Intercontinental championship doesn’t benefit John Cena at all.  He literally has no time to boost it or elevate it beyond what Dom has done with it, because last time I checked, he has three appearances left.  And I doubt that his last match will also be for the Intercontinental championship, so that means he has to drop it within his next two appearances, and in my opinion, fewer things erode a title’s prestige than rapid changes, at least not without a good narrative behind it, and I feel like the E is really pigeon-holing themselves right now with this not-well thought out Cena IC run.

Basically, no way it’s going to any of the 16 guys in the Cena Last Match Tournament, because it defeats the purpose for having a tournament in the first place, if one of them is going to suddenly get to have a match, a title match, against him before the last match.  And outside of them, there’s really not a lot of names that are just spontaneously ready for the Intercontinental title much less worthy to get a win on John Cena, genuinely one of the greatest talents in the history of the industry, which is a topic I may touch on in a future post.

I feel like the only real option is to drop it back to Dominic Mysterio, where Dom will win on account of there being a metric fuckton of interference from the rest of The Judgment Day, the Americanos, and he’ll win dirty with an obvious foreign object, but at that point the question is why they had to have him drop the title in the first place, other than to placate a superficial career milestone?  They derail an extremely strong title run and snuff out its momentum.  Even if he wins it back, the mystique of his first run is completely reset, and it’ll feel like a holding pattern until the next contender is ready, instead of like the run Gunther had with it, where it just felt like nobody was ever going to beat him.

Either way, as much as I have enjoyed the John Cena retirement tour, I will die on this hill that him taking the Intercontinental title off of Dominic Mysterio was not the best idea, and smells more of pandering and fan service than being a careful and calculated choice that would be worthy of being in the next season of UNReal.

Daylight Savings blows, 2025 edition

At around 5:20 am, I heard #1 outside my bedroom door, panicking in the dark about how she couldn’t find her sister.  The fact that my child was out of her room in the pitch black of the morning was enough to get me to pop out of my bed, but upon hearing that my other child was allegedly missing immediately put me into a state of panic myself.

Worse off, for some reason there was a light on in my sunroom, which I knew wasn’t the case when I went to bed because I’m neurotic and always make sure all lights are off prior to going upstairs; I would later discover that there was a power surge during the night, and since that room’s lights are controlled via remote control, it light switch is usually in the on position permanently, and stuff like power surges or outages usually result in lights coming on upon reconnection.  However, I didn’t know this, and it immediately put the fear of god into me that #2 was in some sort of danger.

I walked #1 back into their (we let them sleep in the same room on weekends sometimes, on the unfolded futon) room to have her wait for me while I would investigate downstairs, but upon entering the room, there’s #2 snuggled up like a little taquito on the futon already, still sleeping.  Relieved, I set #1 back onto the futon as well, covered her, gave her a kiss on the head, reminded her that it was the middle of the night and hope she bought it, and implored her to go back to sleep; she didn’t need to know her circadian rhythm was correct at thinking it should be 6:20 am, when she’s normally up for school on weekdays, because obviously I really wanted to get some more fucking sleep.

Nope, by 5:30 am, I can hear activity on the baby monitor, both girls are now awake, and it’s only a matter of seconds before I hear doors opening and shutting, and #1 is marching back into my bedroom, with moments later, #2 freaking out in the darkness of the hallway, wondering where everyone is.  I bring them both into the master, and get them into our bed, in between mama and dada, hoping they might actually go the fuck back to sleep for a little bit longer.

Naturally, that doesn’t happen, and by 5:40, I give up, get out of bed, usher the kids downstairs, and concede that the day is now beginning.

The thing is, I actually had a tentative plan about this morning, because I figured there would be some monkey business with the time change, and the chances of me having breakfast ready for awakening kids wasn’t going to be high, which was that we were definitely, going to go to Waffle House because who doesn’t love Waffle House?

It’s just I was not anticipating them to be getting up within the 5 o’clock hour, but here we were.

It actually wasn’t that terrible, I got them dressed and we were at Waffle House by like 6:30 adjusted time, and I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that we were not the only customers there.  They were definitely the only kids there, and a part of me was hoping to have seen some other parents under similar circumstances having the same plan that I did, but alas, it was just me who was carting my kids out at this ungodly bullshit adjusted time.

But the point remains, daylight savings remains the antichrist, and it’s abundantly clear that the people in the BC years who came up with the idea were a bunch of selfish fucks who either did not have children, or had the privilege or were bad parents enough to not take into consideration the effects of the time change on parents who did have children.  And I hate them for all eternity and hope their descendants are wholly unimpressive pleebs who have nagging gastrointestinal issues.

I like to imagine that if the originators of daylight savings actually had any children, that they were obligated to actually care for, ranging from ages 0-7 years of age, they would think twice about the whole concept of rolling clocks back and fucking with their circadian rhythms and suddenly having to deal with them at ridiculously early AM hours, while people under most other circumstances would still be getting to sleep, regardless of what hour it actually was.

And as I’ve said before, I didn’t care much for it prior to children, but now that I do have kids, I fucking loathe it, and I like to think I’m pretty serious about sticking to my claim that I’d vote for absolutely anyone who prioritized the abolishment of this bullshit antiquated concept, including, those Somali pirates.

The complaining will likely happen yearly, until either this bullshit program is killed off, or my kids get to the age where they want to sleep in, and therefore my entire house can actually benefit from the rollback instead of bemoaning it.  Not going to bet on the former, though.

I can’t ever be mad about Freddie Freeman

Trust me, bro: Freddie Freeman becomes the only player in MLB history to have more than one walk-off homerun in the World Series.  That’s it.

When the day is over, I couldn’t give two shits over who wins the World Series.  Obviously, I would prefer it to be the Blue Jays, but as I’ve said before, the Dodgers are inevitable, and prior to the start of the series, I had flippantly predicted that it would be the Dodgers in five, and so far, my prediction is still in play.

Yoshinobu Yamamoto is pitching like a man possessed, with two straight complete games, playing like a man who was worth a $330M contract, and the golden boy Shohei Ohtani seems to have figured out playoff baseball, and over his last few games, has been hitting home runs in every single one and OPSing like 5.000 or so it feels.

Oh and make no mistake, the MLB media machine and all of its stage-six clingers are absolutely all the fuck over this Japanese invasion, and it’s getting to a point where I feel like I’m going to resent MLB so much I’d swear it off, by just how much weeb-worship they’re jizzing all over the internet like they’re watering a garden with a hose.  I get it, Yamamoto and Ohtani are playing phenomenally right now, but it’s not like nobody else in the history of Major League Baseball has ever caught fire in the midst of the playoffs and carried their teams to some hot streaks.

But MLB media has become more weeby than 76 anime conventions put together and they just can’t help themselves with how much spooging they’re doing over every little thing a Japanese player does, and there’s no length too great to stretch out in order to make all sorts of convoluted stats or combination of stats to fit the narrative that only Shohei Ohtani is the only person in history to accomplish, so they can cliché-ly end with “that’s it.”

Thankfully, last night was a reminder that there are stalwart baseball players in existence that aren’t from glorious Nippon, and that the Dodgers true captain is the one who bailed them out of an 18-inning purgatory with once again, calling game in the most dramatic of fashions, the walk-off home run.

Freddie Freeman became the ONLY PLAYER in MLB HISTORY to have multiple walk-off home runs in the World Series, now having done it in 2025 a year removed from when he walked off the Yankees last year. 

That’s it.

And I know that I’m rooting against the Dodgers just like the the vast majority of the world outside of Los Angeles and entire country of Japan, but there is no part of me that is capable of hating Freddie Freeman, even if he is on the team.  I am happy for his second walk-off homer in the World Series, and I’m happy for his family to have been able to witness him once again bail the entire team out and be Mr. Hero, the only one genuinely worthy of such, on a roster full of guys that MLB really wants to be Mr. Hero instead.

Despite the fact that he plays for the Dodgers, an act of heroism by Freddie Freeman, at least to me, is still kind of a big middle finger to MLB, their media machine and all Dodgers fans that overlook his own greatness because they’re all too busy drooling over Ohtani or Yamamoto or even Roki for no other reason than that they’re shiny Japanese imports.

Lest everyone forgets, Freddie, and Mookie Betts, were guys who had their own championship rings before last year, and knew how to win without a $1B payroll and malleable management to make a cultural shift to cater to players, and it’s not a far stretch to say that without their leadership and guidance, they wouldn’t have won last year, where Ohtani had to be carried across the finish line by Freddie Freeman who went gangbusters in mauling the Yankees all series long.

I still want the Dodgers to lose in the end, which doesn’t really seem like a likely possibility, but I’m at peace if Freddie Freeman snaps out of his general postseason underperformance, and it subsequently helps the Dodgers win, because like I said, it’s impossible for me to be mad about anything that Freddie Freeman does, because he’s just that good of a human being that even him playing on the most reviled of teams doesn’t change my appreciation of him one bit.

Dad Brog (#157): the shittiest morning possible

Full disclosure, I don’t write this with any sort of anger or festering rage about the morning that I had, but more with astonishment that such a morning could have been had that I have no other option than to write about it, primarily to one day be able to recall this to embarrass the ever-living snot out of my child.

But long story short, one of my kids absolutely pooped all over themselves this morning while sleeping, and naturally it was me who discovered it, me who had to deal with it, and me who had to clean everything up.

For real though, I wasn’t mad about it at all, because something like this happening, the first question was, and should be, is everything okay?  The answer was quickly discovered to be yes, but it was rather a child who was too afraid of monsters in the dark to get out of bed to take care of their bowels, probably compounded on top of being in a state of deep sleep, and instead just soiled their bed and slept in it.

Regardless, given the fact that on any given morning, cleaning up a ton of poop isn’t typically a part of the routine, I had to pivot and quickly resign myself to the fact that the morning was going to be delayed, and that the recovery of my child was priority.  I took them into my walk-in shower to use the flexible showerhead to give them a nice warm cleansing, got them dressed and started with breakfast before I had to go back upstairs to really survey the damage and get to work.

White people, would be quick to declare the sheets and comforter a complete loss at this point, but me, not being white, and knowing that I can rescue these things on account of the fact that I’m not a pussy and afraid to get children’s poop on my hands, took the soiled sheets also into the walk-in shower and gave them some good scrubs, and pretty much salvaged them.  I still need to give them a through spin through the washing machine, but by the day’s end, they should be ready to be back on my kid’s bed as if there was no Armageddon in the first place.

I coached my child that they should never be afraid to call out for me on the monitor in the middle of the night if they have to go potty, and that under no circumstances will I ever be mad at them for waking me up in the middle of the night to take care of business.  Quite the contrary, I would be super stoked and happy, and I mimicked the groggy, but rejoiceful reaction I would give them should they ever take my up on the offer, and hopefully they will in the future to avoid such similar mornings.

But good lord almighty, what a nightmare scenario of a morning to encounter.  I still feel like I can smell it in my brain to this very moment.  Truly a literal, top-3 shittiest mornings of all-time in my parenting career; and honestly I’m hard pressed to even recall two other poop nightmare mornings to round out a top-3, which means this might really have been the shittiest morning of all time, by default.

I look forward to this post circling back eventually on my On This Day plug-in, so I can troll remind them of the bullshit they put me through when they were but literal babies when they’re older, so they can really appreciate the kind of dad that I’m trying to be.

Seems kind of ironic to me

I was driving home one day, and I decided to take an alternate route, because it might be a little longer as far as street distance goes, but there are fewer lights, and I was in one of those moods where I was over all the red lights that I seemed to be hitting.  There’s a point on this route where there’s this farm, that I’ve come to know as being owned by some obvious hard-right-wing nutjobs, as indicative by all the hard-right-wing signs that they plaster all over their property.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN
PRAY FOR AMERICA
LET’S GO BRANDON
KEEP AMERICA GREAT
AMERICA FIRST

And the list goes on and on and on.  There’s pretty much no matter, no election or no opportunity missed by the people who live on this farm to spout their views or automatic support for whomever is repping the right.  In one hand, I kind of respect and wish that the not-left had such devout, obsessed and dedicated to voting and supporting their cause, and perhaps every single political arena wouldn’t be so fucking one-sided.  But in the other hand, fuck these shitheads and their support of just about everything I disagree in.

Anyway, as I was passing by today, there was a sign in their primary viewing sign space, that said: WE ARE CHARLIE.

I scrunched my brow at this one, and at the next red light I stopped at, I whipped out my phone to google it because I was curious.  Of course it had to do with the fairly recent assassination of some right-wing nutjob who had the same name, and I felt a microsecond of embarrassment at not realizing that sooner but on that same note I actively avoid politics as if discussing them will give me COVID.

Unsurprising, his death made him into a martyr to the right, and I guess saying WE ARE CHARLIE is some sort of defiant solidarity, and basically the white people version of everyone else saying that they are George Floyd, Sandra Bland, or any person that dare ever stood on the other side of the fence.

However, I couldn’t help but feel that there was some severe irony in the phrasing of WE ARE CHARLIE, because the very first thing that came to my mind is that “Charlie” was the nickname/slang/slur that US soldiers used to describe the opposing Vietcong forces during the Vietnam War.

Every skirmish was, against Charlie.  Charlie ambushing US forces.  Fuckin’ Charlie all over the place.  Spraying Agent Orange in the jungle to weed out Charlie.  Etcetera, etcetera.

Charlie is a term that has some hard negative connotation, especially for those who served, come from military backgrounds, or were impacted or affected by Vietnam in some way, shape or form.

And now we have white folks all over the American landscape who are now defiantly and proudly proclaiming to be, Charlie.  Okay

The ironic thing is that the Vietnam War more or less ended in 1975, which is just 50 years ago.  Across America and the rest of the world, there are still living people who fought in it; there are people who have killed, are widows and fatherless children from the conflict,  in the name of war, still alive today.  I can’t imagine that a lot of these people are all too thrilled to be seeing the word Charlie being used in such pro hard-right-wing propaganda, especially those who have and still suffer the effects of loss, death and PTSD.

Or perhaps I’m being presumptuous and giving too much credit to right-wing supporters to have the morals that would put something like this into question, and even they have no problem dropping their stigmas over the word Charlie and are more than happy to take it back if it supports their idiot beliefs.

Given the nature of modern politics, it’s probably the latter, unfortunately.

Because like I said, I saw this sign on a farm.  Farms are usually family joints passed down generations, and I’m going to go out on a limb and take a guess that if the owner of this farm didn’t fight in Vietnam, they’re probably descendants of someone who did, and because politics are unfortunately often times practically genetic at the success rate of offspring buying into their parents’ beliefs, I’d wager that through the 80s, 90s, 00s to up until a month ago, the name Charlie was probably something that was probably spit out, with some resentment, as opposed to being a phrase of solidarity and left-wing defiance.

One thing that I thought about though, that would be ironically funny, but not that funny because the loss of life isn’t really a laughing matter in most cases, but piggybacking onto the recent termination of AOL dial-up service, I’m imagining a scenario where the elderly final users of the service, now without any real internet service to brainwash them any further, have no idea about the whole Charlie situation, and have no clue that being Charlie is considered a good thing among their right-wing brethren.

And then ‘ol Hershel is going down the road in his 1957 Chevy pickup, and he drives past a house with a big ass WE ARE CHARLIE sign in their yard, triggering his PTSD.  Naturally he is packing, and he parks his truck, grabs his double barrel shotgun that’s on a mantle behind the driver’s seat, and storms into the house, and blows the fuck away out of some right-wing family.  Took care of that fuckin’ Charlie.

Right-on-right crime, just like the actual Charlie incident, from what I’ve heard.

Like I said, the loss of life in any case isn’t really that funny under most circumstances, but I’m just being honest here, if I were ever to catch wind that a scenario like this actually happened, I have to admit that I’d be kind of amused.

Good intentions, still kind of racist

When I saw this photograph of the Atlanta Falcons’ placekicker Koo Younghoe posing up with new Braves’ scrap-bin pickup Kim Ha-Seong where they did/were coerced into a jersey swap, my first reaction was that of a wince.

I understand what was going on, and I imagine both Koo and Kim were smart enough to just go with it for the sake of whitey and the rest of America; and as the title of this post says, I think most Koreans would probably get that the intentions of this obviously orchestrated connection were good, it still gives off a sense of ignorant microaggression, in my personal opinion.

It’s like there’s absolutely no chance that Koo Younghoe was planned in advance to happen to be at ScumTrust Truist Park on this particular day, even if the NFL season was right on the precipice of beginning.  If the Braves really wanted to tie into the start of the Falcons’ season, undoubtedly they would’ve gone after Michael Penix or any of their more popular skill position players, and not the placekicker, no matter how talented and generally likeable that Koo actually is. 

The choice to invite Koo to the ballpark stinks of white people exhibitionism, like when white people are trying to integrate a black person, gay person, or any other individual who classifies as not-straight white people, they go out of their way to dig out any other member of said demographic to help introduce them into the collective.  And I’m going to give benefit of the doubt that both Koo and Kim were aware of what was going on, but like I said, they’re probably smart enough to just go with it, as not to jeopardize their own careers by calling out bullshit when they see it.

I’d wager that Koo and Kim were amenable to each other during this forced interaction, and maybe they did become quick acquaintances from the connection.  Koo probably reinforced the likely things the white people on the Braves told Kim about life in Atlanta, about how Koreans are plentiful here, mostly the students around Georgia Tech, as well as Gwinnett County as a whole, and probably some recommendations on where to get some decent Korean food should Kim be jonesing for the flavors of the motherland.

But the thing is, Kim was born and raised in Korea, played ball in the KBO, and came to America barely five years ago.  Koo was born in Korea, but immigrated to America when he was 12; he went to high school, college and embarked on his NFL career all in America, and in spite of his origin, man has had plenty of time to more or less become a true American in terms of personality and quality of life. 

They really couldn’t be more different beyond their nationality of origin and the fact that they’re both professional athletes.  But that seemed to be good enough for the Braves to go out and invite Koo over to the ballpark to meet up with Kim, because, they’re both Korean, they probably already know each other, and their grandfathers probably had to have served together in the Korean War or some other bullshit assumption.

If the Braves were actually smart, they’d basically have just pointed Kim Ha-Seong straight to Jurickson Profar, since they were already familiar with each other, having been teammates on the Padres.  And they were tight enough to where they referred to themselves as Rush Hour, even as horribly racist as that name would be for a Korean and a black-skinned Venezuelan to compare themselves to Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker, it’s the kind of unity that only comes from actual friendships.

I mean, maybe they did, and they’d already reunited, but they still wanted to introduce Kim to another Korean Atlanta professional athlete, just to show him that more of you chinks are here playing professional sports here after all.

Either way, as well-intentioned as the whole thing was, I’mma just go ahead and declare the thing, racist.  Not necessarily a malicious racist, but still racist all the same.

They wouldn’t do this with a new Dominican pickup, or a black pickup.  But seeing as how Kim is the first Korean Braves player since Jung Bong, they may as well be back to square one with interacting with Korean culture.  I definitely hope Kim stays, because I’ve been following his journey since he posted out of the KBO and made his way to MLB where he was absolutely excellent in his first few years with the Padres, and I genuinely feel the Braves got an absolute steal of a gem in their typical modus operandi of picking through other teams’ scraps, and I think both the Padres and the Rays gave up on him too preemptively, mostly on account of typical Korean disrespect, but I’m hoping he finds success in Atlanta and the Braves can actually have a Korean player that hangs around for more than a split second.

Hopefully, microaggressions like forcing Koreans to interact don’t shy his opinion too much, and he forces Braves Country to realize who the fuck he is, and is a part of the hopeful 2026 re-do of this cesspool of a 2025 season.