This has nothing to do with baseball. Instead, it has something to do with the travesty that is the apparently newly enshrined tradition of packets of hot sauce ripping off venerated sausages. I have yet to see any video/picture evidence of this travesty, but my imagination runs wild. So does Joe's, as this revelation last night it nearly caused him lose his delicious nachos. Nachos. That would have been a tragedy (full text after the jump).
I know that advertising revenues have likely yet to rebound, but hot sauce packets? But really?! Really?!
My proposal today is that instead of licking our wounds from the beating Tim Lincecum dealt us—or plotting to jump Barry Zito and his contract this evening—we pool our collective brain power to come up with something better. I will be embarrassed if the Astros allow the City of Houston to become associated with a cheap Mexican-food chain's crappy hot sauce and their varying levels of Scovilles. Near enraged, actually. Surely we can come up with something more fitting, and the hopefully incite a riotous enough protest to end this charade of crappy-cheap-condiment-competition.