No Post Unfitting

Jim Bowden, our endlessly interim general manager, has a way of setting people off. The Post's Barry Svrluga revealed on Tuesday that the Reds' recently-departed front office refused to deal with Bodes, which must have stung him deeply, given his near-refusal to pursue non-Reds. San Diego GM Kevin Towers has something against Bowden as well (I can't find the story, so you'll have to take my word for it -- what, I don't look trustworthy?). And while the scorn of his fellow executives is certainly more telling than anything a bunch of dudes on the internet could say about him, the Natmosphere has had a few things to say about the Bowden regime, and not all of them have been complimentary. Bowden's interest in Sammy Sosa pleased almost no one, and his seemingly random pursuit of unneeded spare parts has only made people angrier.

Just as eras of war and civil strife produce great literature, so do times of turbulence elicit great blog posts. The Athenian playwright Aristophanes responded to the carnage of the Pelopennesian War by calling the politicians responsible a bunch of homos. Nate at Nats Triple Play demonstrates a similarly comedic touch, taking an apt metaphor and extending it like it's Stretch Armstrong.

Jim Bowden is not housebroken. You have to keep an eye on him, or he will ruin all your nice things, like starting pitching depth. . .

By now we should recognize the look in Jim Bowden's eyes. It the look that says, "I'm about to make a mess, and you're not going to be able to get me outside in time to prevent it." Sure, he says all the right things about non-guaranteed contracts and Spring Training invites, but Sammy Sosa is a brand new squeaky toy for Jim, and if somebody else makes a move for him, you just know Bowden's gonna lunge. Without an owner to take JimBo to obedience school, teach him to heel and clean up the big messy piles he creates, he's living on borrowed time. Nobody faults him for his enthusiasm, but he has yet to prove that he can distinguish between motion and progress.

That last sentence is something I've been trying to say for months, but I've never managed to put it that well.

Du Fu's melancholy poetry, inspired by the devastation of the An Lushan Rebellion, finds its Natmopheric counterpart at Oleanders and Morning Glories, where Harper sounds resigned to his and our fate.

The article mentions that the team hopes to catch “lightning in a bottle”. That’s Bowden’s philosophy in a nutshell. Grab as many mediocre players as you can and hope the right ones have the career years at the right time. If not, release and reload. It’ll get you a winner now and then, but only now and then. And the frustration it builds as you watch decent players get passed around and passed over to give new projects time…I don’t know if its worth it.

Brandon at Curly W's viciously ironic reaction to the loss of his innocence mirrors that of World War I poet Siegfried Sassoon.

Alright, that's enough. I have completely had it with Jim Bowden's bullshit. I'm so fed up, in fact, that I'm willing to eat the inevitable crow that will be served to me in the comments of this post. You remember me, right? I'm the guy that wasted 824 words defending Bowden in October and another 475 words re-defending him in November. Enough is enough. Jim Bowden is wearing out his welcome in Washington by making move after pointless move with no real plan in sight. . .

. . . after finding out that Bowden is looking to sign ***Ugueth Urbina***. You know, good ol' Ugie, who is currently being held in a Venezuelan prison on murder charges. Murder! With all that is amiss with the Nationals franchise today, the last thing we need is to acquire an accused murderer as a set-up man for Chad Cordero. Imagine the possibilities for Charlie Slowes: "Urbina killed 'em in the 8th and Cordero disposed of the carcass in the 9th!"

This phenomenon has yet to spread to this blog. Maybe I'm not mad enough yet.