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the return of minor league baseball

Golly. I awake from a lengthy hibernation to discover I have been comprehensively served in the comment section, both in the sense of "being outclassed" and also in the sense of "here, have this gigantic nacho." You guys rule.

(But will my attendant sense of shame and inadequacy at having let this space fall into disrepair prompt me to update as regularly as I should? Almost certainly not. And yet, living as close to Cleveland as I do, I am also aware that one must never underestimate the power of shame and inadequacy...)

Comments

Victory! Nacho for you!

Don't trust Danimal's nachos. He wouldn't know a nacho if one fell out of the sky, landed in his mouth, was promptly consumed and later gave him a brief, mild yet irritating bout of heartburn.

And so the cycle begins again, the Circle of Nacho, the Nacho of Life...

Dude, you are clamoring for a nacho cook-off. You wanna go? Name your time, name your place. I will nacho you back into your nacholess hole, post-haste.

The time: midnight.

The place: the steps of the Portland Oregon LDS Temple.

The date: TBA

Er, wait. They'll probably have the gate locked. Let me think of another place that will be appropriately epic for a nacho cook-off but comical all the same.

Shit, we'll also need an oven. Who knew arranging a nacho cook-off would be so tough?

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