After one day, my mendacious gaggle of foaming farts actually tried to convince me they are professional baseball players. I have 1) a junta of mediocre starting "pitchers" who trip so hard on their dicks when the lineup turns over that they piss out of their earholes, 2) Vlad Guerrero Jr., 3) a remaining series of "hitters" so allergic to contact they have recurring nightmares of playing tag when they were 6 and can't ride the subway, and 4) a series of "relievers" who are of top quality as long as you don't want saves, wins, holds, strikeouts, double plays, inherited runners not to score, outs, functional neurons, or a pulse. I wanna line these bums up down the third base line and beat them with a waffle iron until they go away.