Six More Months!

This morning I took my usual spin around the message boards at Paul Wall World, where I go to keep my finger on the pulse of the Paul Wall fan community.

Above: Paul Wall, the People's Champ. In his mouth: what a college education looks like portrayed into some in ice.

The first thing that caught my eye was this topic: Paul Wall: Worst Rapper Since Chingy? After I got over my shock that everything in the question was spelled correctly and that only one punctuation mark was used, I was outraged. First off, I'm not entirely sure who Chingy is, but no reasonable person could argue that Paul Wall is the worst rapper since him. I'm far worse, for instance, and Needham's flow is even lamer than mine. It's clear that topic starter F2theN is interested in no more than creating a negative atmosphere in what had once been a place of peaceful, jovial contemplation of Paul Wall, his collaborations with hip-hop's brightest stars, and the shiny crap on his teeth.

I don't mean to single out F2theN; I'm merely using him as an example of a widespread phenomenon: teh internet turns people into jerks. This was most most succintly described in Penny Arcade's justly classic "Shitcock" cartoon (more work safe than it sounds), and, though the friendly video game-enthusiasts at PA are talking about the effect of online competition on otherwise reasonable people, no corner of teh internet is safe from the Shitcock Effect, least of all this one. Over the months, I've called Bud Selig a corpse, Bill Collins a failure, Will Carroll a buffoon, and Dayn Perry an asshole. As a Wikipedia-recognized online journalist, I consider myself something of an ambassador of teh internet, and Google agrees with me. As such, I decided that I would try to set a good example by not being such a dick all the time. Hence the two weeks with no posts. If I couldn't make fun of Will Carroll's lapdog for sharing his favorite porn links with us and not knowing what "jingoistic" means, or even point out that Basil is sharing real estate with an unfortunate fellow who was literally struck retarded by the ALCS, what could I do? So I just shut up for a while and tried not to think about it.

But now I'm faced with a challenge I can't ignore.

General manager Jim Bowden was given a six-month contract extension by the Washington Nationals on Thursday, a deal that allows him to oversee offseason moves while new ownership is pending.

The old me would have mocked Jim Bowden's performance as GM and his track suits. He would have said something that rhymes with "pluck goo, Pud Knee-dig" or "row to smell, Barry Feinsblorf" or "Blaine Terry is a mass-hole." But I promised myself -- and the children -- I wouldn't do that anymore, so let's force ourselves to look at the bright side. Fortunately, some of the more diligent bloggers out there have already started. Needham points out that a crappy GM is better than no GM, and even the old me probably would have agreed with that. Furthermore, given the organizational rift that Tony Tavares made awesomely clear a couple weeks ago, this could mean the end of Frank Robinson as Nats manager. The old me would have mentioned that although a GM can do more damage to team than a field manager, Frank was worse at his job than Bodes was at his and worthier of a shit-canning. The new me wants only the best for Frank and that which is most important to him -- his golf game -- so both mes would be thrilled by this eventuality.

So, in conclusion, yay Bodes! The good thing about giving Bodes a six-month deal is that he doesn't feel at all constrained by the inherent interimosity of his position. Whether it's giving a four-year contract to our shortstop of the future, getting rid of the Nats scouting director when there was only half a month left on his own contract, or possibly making a deal to finally get rid of that clubhouse cancer Brad Wilkerson, JimBo is going to attack this just like he's a real GM.