Weekend Round-Up. California Angels at Twins.
Friday. Angels 3, Twins 2.
Saturday. Twins 5, Angels 4.
Sunday. Angels 2, Twins 1.

These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives everything its value.

So says Tom Paine, but the truth is, Tom Paine was a big weenie. He might have rallied the populace during war time, but he never fell twelve games back of the tyrannous Bitch Sox. Sure, the Continental Army may have sucked it up big time for the first few months of the War Against the British, but I don't think they ever committed two errors in one inning to allow three earned runs.

Yeah, British rule blew; I don't want to take anything away from our Founding Fathers and what they fought for. But, really, could some high-priced tea and a little billeting here and there be nearly as bad as facing Bitch Sox rule of the AL Central for the whole freakin' season?

I think not. In the last couple seasons, the Twins have governed the Central, but they haven't been obnoxious about it. They haven't been grabby. We liked to exercise a kinder, gentler leadership. We never seized hold of the division like some kind of power-mad pinstriped generalissimos—no, we asked nicely. We gave everyone else a chance.

But the Bitch Sox—no, no. They don't falter. They don't slump. They don't lose. Ever. And I'm here to say it's not nice. It's not just bitchy, it's fascist. And fascists are bad.

Now, I'm lashing out a bit. The tragic events of this series were not entirely the fault of the Bitch Sox. We did manage to lose three of four to the Angels, not due to the crushing weight of the yoke of oppression, but by skill alone. I mean, when your pitchers only give up eight earned runs over four games to one of the best offensive teams in the game and you still lose three of four, well, that takes some serious talent. There should be a monument built to that performance. We could dig a giant hole in the middle of the Metrodome Plaza and dedicate it to this weekend. Tim Pawlenty could call a special legislative session and leaders of both parties could come together and work day and night to move the Holy Crap That Sucked Monument Bill through as quickly as possible, for the good of the whole state, and when they announce the success of the bill, they'll hold hands and afterwards have a nice snuggle. There could be a band, and a ribbon cutting ceremony, and free cake, and everyone will come and gape at the giant hole we dug for ourselves.

Oh and Team Batgirl will be there, because they love their Twins and they also love free cake. They will hold hands and move in awed silence toward the hole, they will stand over the rim and gape into the endless blackness.

"I never knew a hole could be so deep," Jeb will exclaim.

"Or so dark!" Sooz will marvel.

"Or so very, very cold," Goober will say.

And Batgirl will peer into the hole, frantically looking for some bit of light therein, she will get down on her hands and knees, and push her head into the hole trying to find a little bit of meaning, she will lean so far forward in her desperate search that she will tumble into the hole and begin her slow plummet through eternity.

And Team Batgirl will stand over the hole, shaking their heads, listening as Batgirl's screams slowly fade, growing softer and softer until they, too, vanish into blackness.

"Well," Goober will say, "that sucked."

And Jeb will shake his head. "Only the Twins can help her now."

Will they, Twins fans? Stay tuned.