Nuts, hot nuts, you get 'em from the Peanut Man

Our D.C. bureau chief has been doing some late night digging and has come up with some fresh (well, somewhat fresh) information on the man of mystery, he who passes for Vincent Schiavelli, but can execute the forward (peanut) pass better than any Seahawk QB on record (except of course Kelly Stouffer). We are of course talking about Rich Kaminski, god of the goober.

Nut Case

The revelations here are that he apparently lives, or lived, in Kent. Also that he may have a college degree and that he was an A-Rod fan. Also, that he loves board games:

It's like that board game LIFE, where players get stars, hearts and dollars. Well, I've got a tall stack of hearts, a dwindling stack of stars and a very small stack of dollars.

This is good stuff. Good understand the man and you'll understand America stuff. But then comes this, and we begin to question, as we so often have, the evil doers who drive the bus:

Read Down, Because the Top Part is Boring

The drove the Peanut "Guy" and the Program "Guy" out of the stadium? This isn't Communist Russia! This isn't The Bolshevik Mariners. How could they do that to these geniuses of their craft?

(note bene: I think this is as good a time as any to disclose that I worked at the Kingdome, a contract hire by Ogden food services. The leakiest ship I've ever had the pleasure of serving on. I think I worked a total of six shifts before I got my first promotion. Worked six more and I was promoted again. Meanwhile there was an Australian backpacker type working in the bag boiling and bagging hot dogs and he would eat one of every four dogs he plucked out of the water. Avoided King Dogs altogether on the theory that he ran less of a risk of choking as he tried to swallow down the sausage in five seconds or less. Meanwhile (pt. II) the old guy at the register next to mine would routinely come out $100 or more under his till.)

Back to the subject at hand. Please help me find Rich Kaminski. HBO wants to do a TV series based on him.

Everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned

This is deeply troubling to me. So much so that I will go beyond the Seattle sports pages, reaching into the bracking dreck that is Oosatoday to bring you, brim beating fans, very bad news indeed:

Say Adieu to Laine, Bonjour to Synthetic Doo Doo

Here's some photo evidence of the shitstorm that is brewing in the minds of the evildoers who run baseball.


To break this down in terms you can understand, one of these kids is doing his own thing; one of these kids is not the same (on a side note, F the A's). It's the one on the left, which is made out of Play-Doh, used Pakistani truck tires, malaria laden mosquito netting and also a barrel or two of pure saccharine sweet Saudi Arabian crude, so rich, so thick, you have to spoon it up. On the right, we have something we all love, because it's renewable and adorable: sheep hair.

I think the message is pretty clear here, folks. Major League Baseball is somewhere to the right of Exxon when it comes to putting the planet first. MLB brought in astroturf, it brought in air conditioned domed stadiums, it brought in plastic beer cups rather than the waxed cardbord of yore (see previous post for more thoughts on beer and baseball) and now plastic hats. Rex Tillerson is a happy, happy man, and all I want to know is if Halliburton got the New Era contract.

P.S. if anyone has the video of Vlad Guerrero winning the All Star MVP a few years ago and losing his shit when he finds out he gets a free car, I'd be most most happy and would definitely put it up for all to enjoy.

BEERMAN, R.I.P.

A moment of silence for a man who could sell a cold frosty one. We lost a good one this week.

The silver lining in this dark cloud is that the secret identity of the world's greatest peanut vendor, the man who can throw a bag on a dime (and quite frankly could have helped out on the mound a lot better than Billy Swift ever did), has been outed. It is none other than Richard Kaminski, and we have photographic evidence to prove it. That's him in the background:


We learned his name because he was in the caption of the photo:

Bill Scott, left, aka the Beerman, and Richard Kaminski, aka the Peanut Man, worked crowds at the Kingdome when the items they sold were far cheaper than today.

I mainly remember those little plastic saran wrap like lids they stretched over the beers. Guaranteed mess. But at a buck fitty, who cares?

UPDATE: loyal reader and master of fundies fundies, it's all about the fundies, Isham "Raicilla Sunrise" Randolph writes with this passionate cry for clarity and better understanding of what matters here:

Kaminski was the greatest. never got the attention he deserved, playing in the shadow of Beerman. And he stayed loyal to the dome, something the Beerman never did. you could say that at the end of his career, beerman was as waterdowned/overplayed/whored out as the San Diego Chicken. Traveling fool that he was.

Ish-Didog takes a big breath, and then he goes on:

Some people are saying that dying at the tender age of 65 (58?) is just another example of how the vengeful god that watches over Seattle treats those that betray the Jet City. You want another example: Hendrix. You want another: Bob Whitsitt.

And I would add to that list:

Keith Godchaux -- taken by the Grateful Dead piano curse
Ron Santo -- dared to play for the Cubbies

Jeff Weaver is who we thought he was!

Little known fact: Jeff Weaver's contract with the Seattle Mariners is actually really an innovative step forward, based on derivative options trading. Complex formula and in fact the M's hired a Sorbonne mathematics PhD to help structure the deal, as it's believed to be the first ever quant-based guaranteed contract in baseball, and apparently has muni bonds and subprime mortgages securitized along with it and is combined with some interesting risk-based incentives. It's so cutting edge, they decided to only try it as a one year affair to see how it works. Complex? Yes. Wildly imaginative? Absolutely. But in essence, in layman's terms, the contract works like this: for every basis point of ERA, Weaver gets $10,000. I hear he's shooting for an eight figure deal.

From the Seattle Times:

Weaver, on a one-year, $8.3-million contract with Seattle, had been 0-2 with an 8.31 earned-run average and four home runs allowed in four outings this spring.

This reminds me of a similar deal the M's worked out with some of the bars around the Dome (RIP) back in the days when Big Dave Valle caught Fassero and the like: domestic beers priced at Valle's batting average. I remember the furious dash to FX McRory's when Dave dropped the old BA to .147 or thereabouts. Now that's a cheap pint of beer.

Zen Godhead or Slap Hitting Regular?

You decide:

Jose Guillen and cars

It's top-of-the-line drives for Guillen

There are so many things wrong with this article, I don't even know where to start. First of all, I would like to know that our rightfielder gets giddy about playing baseball, not driving cars. Seems like that's his problem, he's at the plate dreaming about when he gets to drive away from the stadium.

Second, how can this writer claim that Guillen doesn't like talking about cars when he clearly told him all the cars he owns, how he likes driving them and even what his garage situation is? Also, Guillen is such a dumbass that he basically admits that he shows up for the season just for the paycheck to buy new cars, with no regard for his play or the team's.

Lastly, Guillen saying he doesn't care much for spring training can only sit well with me if he goes out and has a great regular season. Essentially, he's too lazy to do the preparation, no?