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Archive for the ‘little tilde’ Category

Hair’s getting a little long there, Jeff Larish. I understand the need to fill the Big Tilde void by any means necessary, but c’mon, man. You’re a first baseman. And besides, that .356 slugging isn’t fooling anyone.

All right, fine. Just be on your best behavior. You’re new here. Maybe you’re a fan like the rest of us. Just don’t blow it.

By the way, did ANYBODY AT ALL see that Fox/Detroit clip of Tilde jogging in the outfield before Wednesday’s game? FSN showed it in super slo-mo, those curls flying in the breeze in a classic “Moving In Stereo” moment. MLB.tv has no recollection of it, they had blackout commercials rolling at the time. My God, what a sight.

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Heavens.

Miguel Cabrera and the Detroit Tigers reached a preliminary agreement Saturday on an eight-year, $153.3 million contract extension, a source close to Cabrera told ESPNdeportes.com on condition of anonymity.

Big Tilde, meet your running mate for MVP ’08 and the VP of your administration for the next two terms.

Also, in case anyone in the AL was curious: PIZZA PIZZA MOTHER&#@*ERS.

(Thanks, Mr. AP Photo/Paul Sancya)

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Spirit of Detroit

A New Spring Approaches

Son of Grander stepped from his home in Greater Chitown on a brutal February day and let the snow pelt his skin. His long winter’s nap had been necessary, true, but it had numbed his body to the world. Winter’s Breath stabbed through him and made him feel alive again. After a brief time, it was mostly just really damned cold, so he went inside.

The pain reminded him of the battle. He had healed during his hibernation, thankfully. It no longer caused him to wince to lift his arm. He spun his arm around to celebrate this fact. The first sign of the famous Son of Grander smile creeps across his face. However, his joy led to carelessness and he knocked something to the floor.

Son of Grander kneeled down to pick up the item and the smile disappeared. The tomahawk pulled from his side still bore his mortal signature upon its rough blade. Son of Grander touched his side where the scar remained. The battle rushed back from his memory and overwhelmed him for a moment. He sat on the plain wooden floor and digested the past. Then he stood up and began to digest a huge breakfast; hibernation takes a lot out of a man.

As he picked at the scraps that remained of twin hunks of dried and salted beast, he considered his next move. It was hard to believe the battle would be upon him again so soon, relentless like the seasons.

Soon, it was time. Son of Grander packed his warrior’s bag, put on his best walking cleats, and thrust into the sharp cold to walk the land and gather his mates for the next battle. (more…)

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Big and Little Tilde

A third-year French student trying to impress a random buxom young co-ed at a frat party will often break out some obscure bit of the language with an unnecessary flourish of his accent. He’ll start by mentioning that he did a study abroad semester in Paris.

Of course, by ‘Paris’ he means ’45 km from Paris’ and by ‘study abroad’ he means ‘did a lot of pot and hung out with all the other study abroad students, barely speaking a word of French the whole trip’.

Still, if she’s already shown a mild interest in him by twisting her flimsy blouse a bit, wiggling her finger at him, or making accidental eye contact, he knows he can break out the litmus test that will tell him to use one roofie or two in her Natty Light.

“Did you know,” he leers, “what the French call an orgasm?”

“No,” she’ll giggle. (She’s always giggling.)

“La petite mort. Do you know what that means?” She doesn’t, of course. He only asks to assert his mental superiority by making her admit her ignorance.

He leans in close in a conspiratorial manner. She leans in to hear his whisper. This helps him see down her blouse so he can prepare for a front clasp or a back hook. “It means, ‘the little death’. You see, Bridget, the French think you die a little every time you orgasm. That’s why your face looks like that when you… you know.”

Hand goes down on thigh; blushing (from booze and guilt) commences; deal is done. If she doesn’t find that impressive, move on to a more impressionable subject until you settle for the one that thinks France is near Russia. After all, Napoleon seemed to share this opinion and he got laid a lot, too.

Tonight, Timo Perez made another bid to become Los Tilde Pequeño with a two-run single in the sixth to deliver another little death to the fading Twins and put Tigers up for good, leading to the 4-2 final margin. He had three total RBIs on three hits. A win by the Indians and a win by the Yankees leave the Tigers 3.5 games out of the AL wild card spot and mumble mumble games out of the AL Central lead.

Still, the Very Large and Original Tilde is the only MVP candidate in this Tigers organization. Let’s peek at Los Tilde Grande’s night, shall we?

The Big Tilde’s day: 1-4
Season to date: .357/.428/.593, 27 HR, 132 RBI

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