To follow the translucent Chiefs organization, it is necessary to ascribe meaning to small signals, much as a Kremlinologist would analyze the seating charts at a Politburo meeting.

So when Adam Schefter's article on NFL.com suggests Tyler Thigpen may push Brodie Croyle for playing time (hat tip to the House of Georges blog), I can only offer two explanations of the motivation behind Chiefs president Carl Peterson and coach Herm Edwards:

a) They want to give a message to Croyle that his job is not secure so he will work hard in the off-season

b) They are assuring Croyle will start, as Tyler Thigpen is his only competition

So let's look at the participants in what shapes up as the lamest Chiefs quarterback battle since Todd Blackledge and Steve Fuller battled for playing time in the mid-80s.

Brodie Croyle starred at the University of Alabama, where he met his wife Kelli. A former Junior Miss winner, Kelli became an Internet sensation after displaying the poise and, um, physical attributes that Croyle frequently lacked in the pocket last year. Brodie landed Kelli with his sophistication, as evidenced bythis quote uttered on HBO's Hard Knocks documentary last year: "Camp should be a breeze after going through all the marriage stuff. Stressful time for the women folk."

Croyle was nicknamed "Blu-Ray" last yearby Priest Holmes for his laserlike arm, not for the additional speed he processes information. He looked lost and confused last year as a starter, compiling a 0-6 mark in 2007.

Tyler Thigpen starred at Coastal Carolina, whose mascot is a Chanticleer. A Chanticleer is a rooster that is a prominent character in a section of The Cantebury Tales as well the 1992 animated movie "Rock-A-Doodle" starring Glen Campbell and Charles Nelson Reilly. The chanticleer eludes a fox's capture in both stories, a relevant story for one protected by the Chiefs' porous offensive line.

According to Schefter's article, the performance in which Thigpen impressed Chiefs officials was a drive against the Chargers last season in which he completed two of six passes and ended in an interception in the endzone.

So expectations are low.

Some in the anti-abortion movement are not happy with Kansas U.S. Sen. Sam Brownback's endorsement of Steve Howe for Johnson County District Attorney.

In her World Net Daily column, Jill Stanek wonders if Brownback is betraying the anti-abortion movement and trading the Howe endorsement for support from moderate Republicans in his expected 2010 gubernatorial bid.

Anti-abortion types were so displeased with Brownback’s early support of Howe, Stanek writes, that they ambushed the senator at his D.C. office last week, asking him to rethink the endorsement. Brownback was noncommittal.

“Brownback needs to stand with [Phill] Kline,” Stanek writes, “who has been taking hits for five years straight like no other for simply trying to enforce Kansas abortion law.”

But how can Brownback support someone (Kline) who supposedly isn’t running? And why is

Kline and the family  

Last week, KMBC reported that anti-abortion groups are encouraging Kline to run for re-election. Kline hasn’t commented on a possible run since declaring last September that he would not seek re-election.

Kline will likely keep Johnson Countians in suspense until the filing deadline at noon on June 10. If he doesn't run, Kline could always continue his speaking career.

Trey Hillman gave the night off to two players last night.

1. Tony Peña Jr.

Stated reason for night off: in slump.

Possible alternative reason for night off: cannot hit, which is a good thing to do if you're a major-league position player.

2. Jose Guillen.

Stated reason for night off: some rest, as he is frustrated and pressing, according to Royals manager Trey Hillman.

Possible alternative reason for night off: apparently has given up the pretense of "trying hard." Guillen is getting booed at the stadium and is being killed on local radio due to his horrific start, his sizable contract and his alleged past use of performance-enhancing drugs.

And now he takes a night off against a team that he openly holds in contempt.

Guillen has an interesting history. He is on his ninth team in 11 years. After Angels manager Mike Scoscia suspended him during the 2004 playoff run, he called Scoscia a "piece of garbage." With the Nationals, he reportedly had heated exchanges with teammates Brad Wilkerson, Brian Schneider and Esteban Loaiza. Similar incidents have reportedly occurred in his previous stops at Cincinatti, Pittsburgh and Oakland.

So here's Guillen's tally so far: Thirty-six million dollars. Three years. Terrible start. One large temper.

Over at the other end of Missouri's portion of I-70, Monsanto is sort of a big deal, giving out money like they've figured out how to genetically modify soybean plants to make it.

The seed and herbicide maker, for instance, has its money in the St. Louis Science Center and the children's museum, making sure St. Louisans of the future think of Monsanto when they think of field trips.

But this article in May's Vanity Fair exposes the other side of Monsanto, the one that bullies farmers and seed dealers with a team of badass attorneys. The article is largely based in Missouri, and the piece begins with an anecdote from the Square Deal general store 100 miles north of Kansas City in Eagleville, Missouri. And here's how the story summarizes Monsanto's operations in the heartland:

Scenes like this are playing out in many parts of rural America these days as Monsanto goes after farmers, farmers’ co-ops, seed dealers—anyone it suspects may have infringed its patents of genetically modified seeds. As interviews and reams of court documents reveal, Monsanto relies on a shadowy army of private investigators and agents in the American heartland to strike fear into farm country. They fan out into fields and farm towns, where they secretly videotape and photograph farmers, store owners, and co-ops; infiltrate community meetings; and gather information from informants about farming activities. Farmers say that some Monsanto agents pretend to be surveyors. Others confront farmers on their land and try to pressure them to sign papers giving Monsanto access to their private records. Farmers call them the “seed police” and use words such as “Gestapo” and “Mafia” to describe their tactics.

The story also paints a bleak future for dairy farmers, who will be the next target of Monsanto, according to the piece. Monsanto wants dairy farmers to stop advertising that they don't use Monsanto products, a plug that's getting more popular with consumers. That's evident in the popularity of Shatto Milk Company, the Osborn, Missouri, dairy that's become much-loved as much for its no-growth-hormones promise as for those cool glass bottles it comes in.

The Royals have a new strategy in 2008: prayer, and not just when assembling the roster.

Both manager Trey Hillman and General Manager Dayton Moore appeared at the Midwest Baptist Theological Seminary Monday, speaking with humility concerning God's presence in their life.

At no point did they suggest that God cares about whether the Royals win. (Although the Bible passage cited by Hillman, "the greatest among you must be last," would have been a dandy radio jingle for last year's team). Hillman did state that he doubted that he would receive a job in baseball until praying to God and eventually receiving a minor league job from the Cleveland Indians in 1985. This proves, I suppose, that not only that God answers prayers but He has a terrific sense of irony.

Of course, some in professional sports claim to know God's will with even more specificity. Before the Colorado Rockies made their improbable run through last year's baseball post-season, their GM Dan O'Dowd stated that "God has definitely had a hand in this." While some theologians believe God has significantly better things to do than monitor an Angels-Royals game, I suppose it is also possible that when I watch a game that God is playing a very elaborate version of Strat-O-Matic Baseball.

So if He does care about baseball, how long must He make Royals fans suffer? What precisely did we do in 1985 to make Him forsake us?

Look at the cities He provides with World Series championships. Los Angeles? New York? Not exactly places of virtue. Miami? South Beach on a Tuesday night makes Sodom and Gomorrah look like Sunday School. Arizona? Why do they need a World Series? They already live in Arizona. Even Philadelphia makes playoff appearances and if God was announced by the PA announcer there, He would be booed unmercifully and met with a fusillade of batteries.

But us? The God-fearing denizens of Kansas City?

We are baseball's version of Job, endlessly tested by Him.