The Braves Go To Art Class

When I was a little kid, art class was definitely the highlight of my school day.  This was mostly because I spent a lot of time in my own head growing up, and it was the one opportunity throughout the grind of elementary school where you weren't required to focus on anyone or anything other than your own task.  Sure, occasionally you had to work with other students on a project, but it was mostly everyone making their own Thingy Of The Day.  No listening to the teachers, no interacting with the other horrible little shits that many 1st-5th graders so often are.  It was a blissful, brief period of isolation, and I loved it.

 I was, roughly speaking, a little above average at art.  My clay pots were admittedly just as lumpy and misshapen as the next kid's, but I was really good at drawing and painting, and better than most at building stuff with wood and/or metal.  But oh, I had a nemesis in the art room, a tool whose very existence seemed to mock me every time we were compelled to utilize it.  That's right: your garden-variety, crappy art class pair of scissors.  This was partly due to the era in which I grew up.  I'm a lefty, and our other-handed needs just weren't seen as important back then, so every pair of scissors was a battle from jump with their inherent righty prejudice.  The other thing is that the motor skills necessary to wield scissors with precision and effectiveness are simply not in my DNA.  (Feel free to verify this with anyone who's ever opened a gift from me and seen the sad, jagged tatters of wrapping paper on the bottom of the box.)  As a result, every project that involved cutting shapes out of construction paper or making picture collages came out as pretty much a complete disaster.  Sure, if you squinted hard, you could make out a vague resemblance to what the thing was SUPPOSED to be, but it was mostly just a mess.

The Atlanta Braves' front office is second-grade me with a pair of scissors.

Just look at this heap of garbage:

That's our Opening Day roster for the 2016 season.  Much like my scissors-based art output, it sorta-kinda resembles the thing it's supposed to be (i.e. a major league roster), but is mostly a poorly-constructed, nonsensical approximation thereof.  There is no logic or forethought, no skill or smarts or vision,  evident anywhere in that list. 

The Braves went to art class.  They snipped and snipped away the soul of the team, took the mangled remains, pasted some other raggedy cutouts on a moldy piece of poster board they found in the very back of the supply cabinet, and now we all have to live with the result.  Sigh.  Happy almost-Opening Day, y'all.  Don't let me near the scissors.  I've been drinking.