Looking for help from some cool software

We love speech-to-text software. Say it here, it goes into print there. Talk, edit, post. Sweet gig. Except tonight. We had a one-sided chat about Jake Peavy's performance, something guaranteed to leave us talking to ourselves anyway, then went to editing.

After the expletives were deleted, we had  exactly 37 words -- and that was after expanding all of the contractions.

Yeah, we understand the screaming. We do it,too.

If you've made any kind of regular visit among our previous 75 or so missives, you've run across the idea that we don't think much of Mr. Scream. Actually, we'd like to see him get the William Wallace treatment. After tonight, can you blame us? It was a record-setting night for futility. The first game of a six-game roadie started with a 13-1 demolition of the Giants pitching staff at the hands, bats, hearts, minds a lower intestines of the New York Mets.

If you're looking for a bright side, you can scan the scoreboard. Los Angeles dropped a 5-1 decision to San Diego so the Giants and Dodgers remain tied atop the NL West at 12-12. That's right, two .500 teams head this Motley Crew.

Calling the evening a disaster does a disservice to disasters, kinda like calling Peavy a Major League pitcher is a disservice to, well, you get the idea.

Peavy (1-2) surrendered the first six runs in a 12-run third inning, the largest frame by a Giants opponent since 1997 and the biggest ever by the Mets.

Peavy didn't get an out in the third. By the time he left he'd given up four runs and was responsible for two men still on base, who obviously scored. 

Mike Broadway, the 13th man on what should be a 12-man staff, did the rest. A Broadway bomb in New York? Even without advanced software, sometimes this stuff writes itself.

Peavy gave up four hits and walked five. He left the game with an ERA of 8,61, a WHIP of 2.0 and .... a vote of confidence from Bruce Bochy?

The title of a recent Tina Fey movie comes to mind.

Now we won't detail the game; you can read the box below if you're that much of a masochist or Yoenis Cespedes fan This kind of game is better suited to erasure by alcohol or shock therapy or continued exposure to Justin Beiber music -- anything that helps summon a more-powerful pain. 

We're Kylo Ren pounding on that lightsaber wound trying to overload the nerves and blot out the agony.

Jake Peavy has no business in a Major League clubhouse. Okay, he can be there to take  out the trash. Actually, that would be a trick worth watching because he'd have to take himself out. Peavy is pure garbage.

Now it wasn't always this way. At one time he was one of the game's premiere hurlers. Then he got hurt, got old, and got pounded. Forty-six base runners in 23 innings isn't a blip on the EKG. This patient is terminal. It's a coronary incident guaranteed to strike every fifth day. Bypass time.

The Giants, either through blind loyalty or because they signed him for way too much money, keep sending Peavy out there. No amount of goodwill, earned or not, is worth this.  There wasn't enough goodwill to save Kirk Reuter midseason or extend Tim Lincecum but this guy gets $12 mil?

It's reached a point where the team guarantees no win streak, regardless of how well the my might play or how hit the my might get, will surpass four games because ever fifth day this guy gets the ball.  

Nice career. It's over. Enough is enough.

(box)