When it comes to blogging about the Nationals, I have three basic moods: 1) Annoyed interest 2) Annoyed disinterest and 3) Cheerful not giving a shit. Annoyed interest results in a lot tedious, self-righteous nonsense from me about how bad -- as a manager and possibly as a person -- Frank Robinson is. Cheerful not giving a shit can be recognized by my reliance on Giant Baba and Professor Bacon. Annoyed disinterest is marked by frequent muttering under my breath and no posts, and that's where I'm headed now.
There is a part of me that's happy when Bowden makes a boneheaded trade or Frank alienates another player. I like writing about that stuff. I get to fling my invective and call Boswell a homer and just generally feel better about myself. This ownership situation, however, offers no such enjoyment. There are degrees of bullshit, and as bummed as I was when Tomo Ohka was traded, another lost offseason is too depressing to dwell on. I've resigned myself to the worst: no owner, no Theo Epstein, Randy St. Claire gets a job with the Mets or something, and Bodes exerts his interim authority by getting rid of Brad Wilkerson and handing Frank a five year contract. I liked it better when we could call Peter Angelos a bastard and get on with our lives.