He heard things. He heard some things.

“The appeal of the rescue is that it’s a happy ending,”

the Anaheim Ducks (is every day Halloween?)

I like my racism like a like my women: with a thick veil.

What does it matter whether the fouls smell good or not?

“Ped-ant, ped-ant
Ped-ant, ped-ant, ped-ant, ped-ant
Ped-annnnnnnnnnnt”

The Angels have a guy who yells, “Who wants a bag of my nuts? Hot, salty nuts!”

“Somebody get me a map!”

Gabagool?

Not one mention of egg salad? I know it tends to be polarizing as hell, but that seems surprising.

“Meh, there’s really no proof Coyle wasn’t asking for a stick in the face.”

Man, a lot of messenger-killing happening below, amiright?

He actually wrote “my friends” in the fucking story. He actually did that.

Smartest fans, dumbest players. I love baseball, but man, they sure don’t make it easy.

Wait, that’s it? I came prepared to defend him for at least waiting to celebrate until he got to home plate (because he practically sprinted out of the box and around the bases, much to my surprise), but he barely did anything even when he got there. Jesus, this is so stupid.

Anyone else think we should just go ahead and change the spelling to “kunt?”

Seems from the video that the batter was someone named White, not Reed.

I bet that other bird was happy it decided to take the high road.

That tee is gonna drill his ass next time he comes up.

“In the future, women will take my quotes out of context to justify their bitchy personalities.” — Marilyn Monroe