Looking Back at a Monday Night

Last night, I came home to settle in for what I thought would be refreshing evening of entertainment.  I even had one last leftover slab of my famed lasagna to start the ball rolling.   The TV got flipped on for background noise.

And then everything fell apart.   Annoyances would be thrown at me every five minutes.

First off, the news was on and it was all aghast with something something Trump and Putin.  Since I have been pretty good at burying my head in the sand, I knew nothing of this alleged meeting yesterday.   But the liberal journalists (are there really any other kind?) were charging Trumpski with treason and duplicity as charges that our last Presidential election were rigged.

And I began to think about all this sanctimonious hand wringing and caterwauling I was hearing on TV and from some loony friends on social media.  How the hell could we allow this happen in our history?

Um, you fucking dumbbells, let's understand something.   The United States has been rigging elections in countries all over the globe for years.   South America.  Africa.   Bumfuk near the Equator.   We have been installing our favorite leaders in these disaster areas since World War II.   

God, my friends are so damn stupid.

I click the remote.

Ah, the annual Home Run Derby prior to the All Star Game.   I have always found this a dopey event that frequently destroys the abilities of its participants.   I am pretty sure that all of the Mets' David Wright's medical issues started with the Home Run Derby.   But I linger because the Dodgers' Max Muncy is going to hit.

But then I heard the voice.

One more time, ESPN trucks out its baseball color commentator, Jessica Mendoza, who has this job for two reasons.   She's a woman and she's got a Z in her last name.   Perhaps one of the most annoying people ever to call the sport.  Her qualification?  She played softball.   

Now I'm not against a female color commentator for baseball.   The Yankees' Suzyn Waldman has been working there for years and she's damn good at this.  But, every time Mendoza opens her mouth...well, she knows so little about the game of baseball.   Let's say that, if knowledge was liquid, you could pour hers into a thimble without spilling a drop.   

When she gets miked up to shag flies in the outfield, I go to wash my dinner dishes.

I come back to find the Derby has morphed into an episode of "I Love Bryce."  Harper, that is.   The Washington National is playing in the Derby and dressed like Rhoda Morgenstern on the Fourth of July.

As the ESPN gasbags bloviate over his greatness, I wonder if anybody of them saw the games over the weekend where the Nats were playing the Mets in Citi Field.   As a potential free agent looking for a new contract, Harper's play was lackadaisical and sloppy.   Buyer beware.   The Met announcers saw what I did.  I guess the ESPN idiots did not.

In the short space of one hour, I was completely annoyed.   I looked for a comfort zone and popped in a DVD for its annual viewing.

Ah, that's better.

Adults.   I don't know what's wrong with these adults today.

Dinner last night:  Lasagna...like I told you.