The Wild Card: To Do List For 2016

There is still a month plus left in the season, and while the Diamondbacks are in the hunt by the minimal dictionary definition (They're usually on the graphic of NL Wild Card contenders that TV networks pull out, near the bottom), the team is more of a 2016/2017 project in terms of contention. That's fine, good things come to those who wait. Until then, the team has many on and off the field things to accomplished to raise itself in the ranks of Major League Baseabll Teams. Things such as:

• Possibly extend A.J. Pollock or Paul Goldschmidt, or don't, or one or the other, or send one of them to a dimension of nothing but extensions for miles, just do something about it. Or don't.
• Set E-Mail filters for when Ken Kendrick wants to tell everyone about all the Aleister Crowley he's been reading over the offseason. Send anything with the word "Magic" in it straight to the trash.
• Investigate the claims by Norbert, the night watchman, that Kevin Towers has been snooping around the premises again. Set traps if needed.
• Acquire a top-flight starting pitcher. Failing that, a starting pitcher with a corner office. Failing *that*, a ranch level starting pitcher. Failing that, a handful of rat-infested apartment building starting pitchers will probably be fine.
• See if you can get Aaron Hill off of the books. Maybe floating a prospect for a salary dump trade will do it. Nobody would have any problem with that idea, right?
• Introduce the Bacon-Wrapped Mound Of Bacon, which are strips of crispy bacon with strips of crispy bacon wrapped around it, for the next big-ticket concession item. The internet, which has a Pavlovian love of all things bacon without considering the context, loves it.
• Do things that will make the comment section on this website break out into arguments that boil down to pedantry and make the Admins/Moderators wanna chug cheap rum.
• Seriously, have you ever chugged cheap rum?
• The emphasis is on the cheap part.
• You'll get the worst headache, not just hangover, of your life after waking up in Jamaica in a bed of Jimmy Buffett CDs with no recollection as to how you got there.