...Chimpanzees make everything better:
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Fag Hags: Why Quitting Smoking is So Hard for Women
Hello, boys and girls. Cartola is back in the building! Due to a long, extended abscence directly proportional to the fact that no one ever reads this shit and, surprisingly, the rise in my malpractice suits, it turns out removing molars because they are just plain dirty is not legitmate dental practice, I have been blogging less than usual (read: not at all). Yet Cartola, is back in business. And he has some cultural musings.
I see a lot of smokers come into my dental practice everyday. Their mouths are horrid and most of them are women that I have affectionately termed "buttermouths." (Go ahead and steal my term blogosphere!) I have found that these women are extremely hot, but have a mouth like a fifteen-year-old unclean sewer pipe that has to be snaked with a metal rod. Hence, a buttermouth defined, although often-times extremely hot and doable by Cartola standards, can be ruled out for various unclean and probing sexy times in the dental chair.
So what accounts for this confluence of smoking among women and why do they find it so hard to quit? I pondered this thought on this beautiful, slightly cloudy day off as I went for my daily smoking jog, my smog; that's right Cartola is nothing if not despicably hypocritical. According to Kristyn Kusek Lewis in her article "How four women quit smoking -- and you can too" in Health, "... women, it turns out, have an even harder time quitting than men: They seem to experience stronger withdrawal symptoms, perhaps because of hormones or the bigger nicotine dose delivered to smaller female bodies." I call bullshit on this because Lewis is a woman and I am always right, being a man with a larger male body.
Smoking, it turns out, is bad for both men and women. Deal with it. If you are going to make excuses for smoking, don't use the whole glass ceiling, gender argument. Hillary Clinton is a cunt by the way who should have left her husband and his cigar smoking to the oval office. Smoking is largely mental, if I wanted to quit I could quit. There would be three or four days of withdrawal symptoms and then I would be so fresh and so clean, clean. I just choose to be dirty and unhealthy like these women with oral fixations and too, too high standards. Boo-hoo I can't find a man. Maybe if you stopped phellating guys named "Top Gun" that hang out at the White Eagle on Green Street, you could land a decent, respectable man.
In conclusion, stop smoking if you want to or maybe just so your dentist doesn't have to scrape off years of yellow tar from your teeth with a sharp, scrapy metal instrument. What the hell is that thing called anyways, a pain stick? Ugh. Unsexy. Fucking buttermouths. Fucking fag hags. Fucking women.
Time for a smoke. Cartola out.
An Open Letter to Obama Haters (Especially Lex)
Second in the presidential race, but first in constipation.Poor, poor Lex. It's ok, let it all out now. Barring a terrorist attack, assassination, or the Large Hadron Collider ending the world between now and January 20, Barack Obama is going to be the next president of the United States.
Artist's rendition. Seal subject to change. There's very little doubt now. He's up big in all the polls, even the ones that usually lean to the right, and he's still gaining. There may be the usual cusp-of-Election-Night tightening, if it's not superceded by state budget difficulties leading to cutbacks of programs that people care about, something that conservatives have a long history of being unsympathetic to, or a weakened stock market. And the McCain campaign is only making things worse for themselves, ratcheting up the negative attacks that seem to turn voters off, which makes the attacks more negative, which turns more voters off, leading to more negative attacks... love those negative feedback loops!
So the nightmare scenario is upon you. You've spent the 10 months since the Iowa caucus cultivating the hate for Obama, and now he (to the ectasy of his slobbering devotees) is going to be front and center in American life for the next four-to-eight years.
Despite my obvious disagreement with your political philosophy, and our many run-ins on policy and philosophical issues, I feel your pain. You see, my fellow liberals and I have lived out the same nightmare. Actually, our nightmare is probably more horrific than anything you can experience in the next three weeks - you won't see an apparent McCain win stripped away by butterfly ballots, senile Florida snowbirds, a corrupt state government run by Obama's brother, and a highly politicized Supreme Court... only to watch four years of incompetence and fear-mongering be rewarded with another four-year contract, one that the majority of the population regretted almost immediately.
Still, we know where you're coming from. You'll undoubtedly have the same reactions to this election that we had:
- You'll threaten to move to another country. This was easy for us - we have an allegedly socialistic paradise right next door that even speaks the same language. Finding a country that loves the free market, hates minorities, and encourages caring only about "getting yours" is going to be a bit tougher. Better start shopping for prime real estate in Estonia now before the big rush. (Michael Phelps recommends Rosetta Stone for all your language-learning needs.)
- You'll blame third party candidates. This will probably be irrational; it's not like adding Bob Barr or Lyndon Larouche's supporters to your totals will really make the difference, even in the close states. (Though this has been know to happen before.) But it's not like anyone's going to come to the defense of those wackos. Fish, barrel, BANG.
Cheney says, We must waterboard LaRouche.- You'll sue. Sue everyone! Challenge the registration system! Find the proverbial needle in the voting haystack (and it will help if he's black, for obvious reasons) and claim that this is representative behavior. They're stealing our election! (It helps if, seven years later after all those wounds heal, you make a ridiculously one-sided movie that rips off those scars all over again. There's two hours of needless anger I'll never get back.)
And that's why I now subscribe to Showtime. - You'll throw off your flag pins and root for bad things to happen. Recessions! Stock market plunges! The collapse of the dollar! Threats to the sanctity of capitalism! (Wait, what? Already? But I thought we arranged that for after the elec.... Damn minorities, you can't even fail correctly!)
- You'll blame yourselves for not doing all the things that would have actually made things worse. We should have gone negative sooner and with more energy! We should have tried to connect to redneck dropouts and trust fund babes! We should have chosen a running mate from a more inconsequential state! (Note: this is already starting.)
(HT: Because I Said So.)- With what little power you retain, you'll take out your anger on swing voter blocs. College-educated single women? No more birth control coverage! Latinos? Deported! (Even if you were born here.) Coastal men? Rising sea levels!
- Finally, when you get to acceptance, you'll start up depressing websites where you apologize to all the people around the world that were counting on you to make the right decision. Sorry Georgia! And... uh... Cuba?.... hmmm.... really, Israel said no?.... McCain was born in Panama.... no, I think that's pretty much it.
Hmm. Well, Mondale's blowout loss must have made things better!
Oh. Yikes.
Regardless, it's won't be long until America tires of the Democrats. It's like clockwork - every six years or so, the whole structure is overturned for no good reason, and it doesn't really matter because both sides believe in pretty much the same things. So wait patiently, keep up the bitching and the independent counsel investigations, and you'll get your power back.
Besides, he's black. It's not like America can deal with that forever.
Resurrection
You shouldn't get to see this stuff more than once or twice a lifetime. But between Trot's ALDS homer, Lowe's HUGE strikeout of Terrence Long, Papi's walkoff series clincher against the Angels, Roberts' steal, Papi's two consecutive walkoffs, Johnny's grannie, Manny's walkoff against the Angels, Beckett's titanium balls against the Tribe, Pedroia's nail in the coffin, Ellsbury's catch against the wall in the 9th inning of Game 4 of the Series, Drew's homer against the Angels, Bay's slide while getting spiked to clinch....
And now...
Pedroia's single,
Papi's homer,
Drew's homer,
Coco's legend-making at-bat, followed by that single,
and then Drew putting one over Gross' head....
Let it never be said, ever again, that God doesn't love Boston. We are the luckiest sonsofbitches that have ever rooted for sports teams, and let us never forget it, no matter what happens Saturday and/or Sunday.
Take a gander at this chart, and how it bottoms out, right around the time I was naming B.J. Upton the ALCS MVP. And then, redemption, revelation, resurrection. Greatest comeback ever.
The defense rests... on your face. Greatest comeback ever.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Life in Ann Arbor (first in a continuing series)
Alternate title: Things White People Like #1242: Crying Over Roadkill
This is the archetypal Ann Arbor story, because it contains three key elements:
1) Idiotic, oblivious Michigan drivers
2) Our giant fucking squirrels
3) Over-the-top lefties
All that was missing was if this had happened on a Football Saturday (instead of just now, a random Tuesday), and the squirrel had been wearing a maize-and-blue Steve & Barry's $5 t-shirt under a North Face jacket. But I still feel like this is better than anything my uncreative brain could have come up with.
I'm walking home from my office, chatting on the phone with Mrs. Tomasi, when all of a sudden this squirrel darts across the road, toward the side I'm walking along. It doesn't quite make it - the front right tire of a dark-colored sedan crushes its body, and I can tell right away this squirrel is done-for. In my four-plus years here I've grown accustomed to seeing brazen squirrels the size of ocelots doing whatever they please, including playing in traffic, but this is the first time I've actually seen one get hit. To say I was traumatized would be too strong a descriptor (I'm no PETA member), but it definitely shocked me and made me feel bad for a local squirrel for the first time in a while.
Unsure of what to do, I stopped walking, and just watched the squirrel writhe and wriggle its way to the curb, leaving a small pool of blood in the middle of the road where the accident had occurred. It's a tall curb, with the sidewalk raised a few feet off the road (coincidentally, this all happened in front of a cemetery), so once it got to the side there was nowhere for the squirrel to go. I wasn't about to approach the squirrel and either try to help it (rabies!) or put it out of its misery (squeamish!), so I just stood there watching.
Meanwhile, the offending car (the crime: accidental squirrelslaughter) had slowed down and thought about stopping, but must have realized it's a squirrel and there was no sense getting out. The next car in line, right up against the assassin's bumper (of course - this is Michigan, the state which makes Masshole drivers look like a flock of Safety Steves), also drove off, probably oblivious to the rapidly-escaping life just to the passenger side. But the third car came to a dead stop, despite the presence of another car immediately behind it. After about 30 seconds, a middle-aged woman, wearing large round tinted glasses and an extra-short haircut, emerged from this third car, an old Plymouth, and immediately began wailing. She bent over where the squirrel was still writhing and started bawling, then stood up and yelled hysterically in the direction of the dark sedan, which had long-since disappeared around the bend.
Oh, did I mention that the Plymouth was covered in bumper stickers, including a two-foot diameter Obama decal on the passenger side door? (I'm sure you just assumed, based on her behavior.) Now, I've made clear that I'm a good progressive/liberal, and the other writers of this blog have surprisingly shifted to the left recently (thanks, John McCain!). I'm happy to see fellow Obama voters, especially in a state that until recently was considered a dangerous swing state, but now seems to be a blue lock. I'm also heartened to see liberals concerned with living creatures, following our party's caring philosophy rather than avoiding (like I was) the gruesome scene.
But still... this was a squirrel. A rough estimate is that there are thirteen squirrels per person in Washtenaw County (source: Council on Statistical Exaggeration), with a life expectancy of maybe another couple of years. It also wasn't the case that the dark sedan was aiming for the squirrel, nor did it have any chance of avoiding the soon-to-be deceased without swerving into the raised sidewalk or oncoming traffic on the one-lane-per-side road. While I joined the crazy liberal woman in feeling sad about another senseless tragic squirrelcide, her reaction was above and beyond the appropriate level of pathos.
I hightailed it out of there (is that a pun?), not wanting to be yelled at for gawking idly while one of God's (or perhaps the Triple Goddess') creatures suffered. As I walked away, I could hear the woman, still cursing the sky, or perhaps the impatient driver behind her. I sent "get a grip" vibes her way, my sympathy for the squirrel worn away by the PETA-types who value the life of a small animal over the safety of humans.
Just another day in Ann Arbor.
(No animals were harmed in the making of this blog post. At least, none that weren't already hurt.)
This is the archetypal Ann Arbor story, because it contains three key elements:
1) Idiotic, oblivious Michigan drivers
2) Our giant fucking squirrels
3) Over-the-top lefties
All that was missing was if this had happened on a Football Saturday (instead of just now, a random Tuesday), and the squirrel had been wearing a maize-and-blue Steve & Barry's $5 t-shirt under a North Face jacket. But I still feel like this is better than anything my uncreative brain could have come up with.
I'm walking home from my office, chatting on the phone with Mrs. Tomasi, when all of a sudden this squirrel darts across the road, toward the side I'm walking along. It doesn't quite make it - the front right tire of a dark-colored sedan crushes its body, and I can tell right away this squirrel is done-for. In my four-plus years here I've grown accustomed to seeing brazen squirrels the size of ocelots doing whatever they please, including playing in traffic, but this is the first time I've actually seen one get hit. To say I was traumatized would be too strong a descriptor (I'm no PETA member), but it definitely shocked me and made me feel bad for a local squirrel for the first time in a while.
Unsure of what to do, I stopped walking, and just watched the squirrel writhe and wriggle its way to the curb, leaving a small pool of blood in the middle of the road where the accident had occurred. It's a tall curb, with the sidewalk raised a few feet off the road (coincidentally, this all happened in front of a cemetery), so once it got to the side there was nowhere for the squirrel to go. I wasn't about to approach the squirrel and either try to help it (rabies!) or put it out of its misery (squeamish!), so I just stood there watching.
Meanwhile, the offending car (the crime: accidental squirrelslaughter) had slowed down and thought about stopping, but must have realized it's a squirrel and there was no sense getting out. The next car in line, right up against the assassin's bumper (of course - this is Michigan, the state which makes Masshole drivers look like a flock of Safety Steves), also drove off, probably oblivious to the rapidly-escaping life just to the passenger side. But the third car came to a dead stop, despite the presence of another car immediately behind it. After about 30 seconds, a middle-aged woman, wearing large round tinted glasses and an extra-short haircut, emerged from this third car, an old Plymouth, and immediately began wailing. She bent over where the squirrel was still writhing and started bawling, then stood up and yelled hysterically in the direction of the dark sedan, which had long-since disappeared around the bend.
Oh, did I mention that the Plymouth was covered in bumper stickers, including a two-foot diameter Obama decal on the passenger side door? (I'm sure you just assumed, based on her behavior.) Now, I've made clear that I'm a good progressive/liberal, and the other writers of this blog have surprisingly shifted to the left recently (thanks, John McCain!). I'm happy to see fellow Obama voters, especially in a state that until recently was considered a dangerous swing state, but now seems to be a blue lock. I'm also heartened to see liberals concerned with living creatures, following our party's caring philosophy rather than avoiding (like I was) the gruesome scene.
But still... this was a squirrel. A rough estimate is that there are thirteen squirrels per person in Washtenaw County (source: Council on Statistical Exaggeration), with a life expectancy of maybe another couple of years. It also wasn't the case that the dark sedan was aiming for the squirrel, nor did it have any chance of avoiding the soon-to-be deceased without swerving into the raised sidewalk or oncoming traffic on the one-lane-per-side road. While I joined the crazy liberal woman in feeling sad about another senseless tragic squirrelcide, her reaction was above and beyond the appropriate level of pathos.
I hightailed it out of there (is that a pun?), not wanting to be yelled at for gawking idly while one of God's (or perhaps the Triple Goddess') creatures suffered. As I walked away, I could hear the woman, still cursing the sky, or perhaps the impatient driver behind her. I sent "get a grip" vibes her way, my sympathy for the squirrel worn away by the PETA-types who value the life of a small animal over the safety of humans.
Just another day in Ann Arbor.
(No animals were harmed in the making of this blog post. At least, none that weren't already hurt.)
Friday, October 3, 2008
Live Blogging Game 2: Red Sox vs. Gayngels
Top of the first and 2/3 of the bottom of the first:
Shit, I missed the most important first inning in two games. Fucking internet. Fucking cybersex. Seriously, who asks to cyber-cuddle after I cyber-asspound you? Ugh. I cyber-snuck out when she "fell asleep" (cyber-strangled).
Red Sox 4
Angels 1
Top of the Second: Aybar, you traitor. You field like Alex Rodriguez and hit like Mark Bellhorn. Thanks for the error. You just validated Alex Cora. Imagine that? The balding utility man, Cora. You may as well just hang yourself. 1 man on.
Ellsbury -- the force-out master. He's probably the most consistent force-out hitter in the league. If I had a stat slave, I'd have her confirm that. (My stat girl would absolutely be a chick...with jugs...of stats.) Way to go Ellsbury, now steal second and point in to the dugout at Cora and call him a bald utility guy. Man on first, one out.
Pedro--you scrappy little bastard. That ball could have been out of here...if the Angels weren't playing their positions and you hit it a little farther. Man on first, two outs. (Steal second, Jacoby)
Ortiz -- Here's the pitch...big swing from Big Papi! Ground ball, three outs. Cora chumped Aybar.
Bottom of the Second: Daisuke!...I yelled loudly out the window at a woman with a stroller... I called his lackadaisickal first inning. I knew he was going to give up a run. There's something about a four run lead that makes a starting pitcher feel dominant before they even step on the mound.
This time around, the Diceman looked better. Two good strike outs--the kind that makes the batter look like a chump for even swinging--and a fly ball to JD Drew. JD, bad back (from carrying around such a huge bag of money) and all, is looking good.
Top of the third: Out hitting the Angels 5 to 3...and more men just came out and admitted they are "Gay for Bay"...including Rollo's ex-boyfriend, who also blogs. How ironic eh? A gay man coming out AGAIN for Jason Bay....By the way, he's also "Live blogging" the game, you should read his play by play for actual real baseball. I'm a one trick expletive-laden pony.
Youk: Sorry I missed you in the first. Show me something. Fly out. Dammit. 1 out
JD: Thought flow of JD Drew this at bat: "Is it a contract year? No, not yet? Fuck it, I like this team. Hmm, hey, this bat is cupped. That's odd. Are they all like that? I wonder what Sean's bat looks like. Fuck! I'm out! Stop thinking about Sean Casey's dick, JD!" Strike out 2-down
Kotsay: 3and1 ground out to Chone...that should be the past tense form of "chine", which is what a clean choad does. 3outs
Bottom of the third: The Angels have to be jinxing the shit out of themselves in the dugout. How do you just not think about losing TEN TIMES IN A ROW IN THE PLAYOFFS TO THE RED SOX and YOU ARE LOSING AGAIN...someone put a uniform on the Rally Monkey and get him out there.
Chone, massaging his taint.
My boy, Chine: Stole 34bases and three cars this year. Fly out. 1 down.
Garret Anderson: I like this guy. Good player. Normal name. Ground out. That's my boy. 2 gone.
Teixeira: One of many strange Mexican-ish names. Base hit. Slapped faggily to center field. Man on first, 1 out.
Guerrero: If anarchy played baseball, it would bat like Vlad. Base hit to center field. You see? The Angels are repeating the first inning for me since I missed it. Nice guys. Now stop it. Honestly...how did Vlad just hit that pitch?
*Ugh, who gave the thunder sticks back to the fans? Californians are so fucking annoying...and it shows in their stupid toys. I heard a rumor that they use those things because their hands are so soft from never working a fucking day in their lives.
Toriiiiiiiii Hunter: Ohhh, a shitty groundball and a close play. He's out! Oh my god! In a typical Hunter freak out, he started to argue the call before he stopped running....knee twisted! The Blame whitey racist has some Godly smiting. I hope you tore your ACL and can't play for two years...in fact, I hope the only way they can fix you is if they cut out your tongue and use it for a replacement muscle. Shit, you're ok. Fuck you. 3outs.
Red Sox 4
Angels 1
Top of the Fourth: Toriiiiiiiiiiiii is gimping around in the outfield. Awww.
Kotsay: Fly out. Blah. C'mon Mark, make me write something snarky. 1out
Tek: Ground Out. That was quick. 2down
Cora: A double to center right! Should have been a single, but the Cartola look-alike takes second! Man on second, 2down
Ellsbury: Holy shit....a double over the head of Rivera! Nice play, dude! Cora scores.
Sox 5
Angels 1
Pedro: 0 for 3 now. Ground out to Choad. 3 out.
Well, the Sox added another on. Let's see if Daisuke stays in the groove.
Bottom of the 4th: Here we go!
Rivera: Let's see if he sucks at batting as much as he sucks in the field, eh? An infamous Daisuke walk. Free pass. Man on first.
Howie Kendrick: Strikeout. This is good. I like Matsuzaka strike outs. 1on 1out
Mathis: Chops a shot to left field. Bay coming on...and he realizes he can't catch with his shoulder! Man on 1st, man on 2nd. 1out
Ayiaaaiaiabar!: A double play is in his reach. Can he pull it off? Let's wait and see! Damn. Ground out to Kotsay at first. Runners advance. Men on 2nd and 3rd with 2 outs.
Friggins: Strike out like a man, man.
*Interlude* I love it when announcers tell us that so-and-so "takes it". That always makes me chuckle.
Back to Chone: Hanging in there. Three balls and two strikes. The ultimate duel. A base hit to left field. Chone responds to the Red Sox one run top. Men on 1st and 3rd with two outs.
Red Sox 5
Angels 2
Daisuke, nothing is on your hat. You just got Punk'd by Garret Anderson. Hah!
Anderson: Two quick strikes. Don't tease our Asians, please. They get all sorts of crazy. A long drawn out at bat. Lots of time outs. High fly to Bay in foul territory...slid too late. Still batting. Chone doesn't seem to be too interested in second base. Garret gets back in the box. He looks a little aprehensive. He's unsure of the next pitch...Struck him out! 3 down
Red Sox 5
Angels 2
Top of five: I'm going to make myself another vodka drink. I'm running out of catchy baseball terms and I feel sober.
Ok, here's a recap of that sucky 5th inning. The Sox did nothing. Papi struck out after a long at bad with some bat drama and then Youk and Drew flew out. The bottom of the fifth started out pretty shaky. Daisuke looks determined to walk 8 people in this inning if he can. It's weird to see Vlad not swing...he swings at everything. That is a barometer for Dice's game.
Back again. I'm starting to feel loose. Profanity is only four keys away. I like it. Daisuke looks like shit. He's allowed men to advance to 2nd and 1st and a run has already scored. He's thrown 100 pitches. It's the 5th inning, dude! Learn how to throw a fucking strike!
Matsuzaka is lucky that Rivera sucks ass and swung at that breaking ball. 1out.
Sox 5
Fags 3
Kendrick: He flies to center and Vlad moves up to third. Guerro is a tough looking motherfucker. I would love to see him on the East Coast in Boston. 2out Men on 1st and 3rd.
Daisuke to 105.
Ahhh, an "offensive substitution"...the Angels make a pretty odd choice of swapping out their catcher. Why the hell do you do that? Morales isn't THAT good. Hmm.
Morales: Looking like a strike out and a catching replacement. High pop. Fly out. One run only. Holy crap on a cracker.
Sox 5
Fags 3
Top of the Sixth!!! (I'm exclaiming everything I type like a Barack Obama supporter! Ahhh! Ahh! Mavericks!):
The Sox look very solid, but Daisuke just barely avoided an absolute implosion. What's crazy is that as shitty as he has looked at some points of the season, he holds the Sox record for Away wins without a loss in a season, going 9-0. At home he was 9-3. Maybe that 50million dollar "phone call" is affecting how we think this guy should pitch. Hell, in my mind, 50million should only be given to a man that can throw a pitch using only his mind and/or dominate an Umpire's mind with ESP to make him call contentious strikes.
Bay: A quick fly out. Somewhere a straight man just defended his manhood for declaring his love for Bay. 1out
Kotsay: Ohhh you just made Hunter look like a dick! Misplay...probably still thinking about his out at first and gimpy knee. Get this: This is Hunter's first error of the season! Sweet! 1 on.
Tek: 0 for 2. I think Tek's good for 1 for 3. Bam! I rule! Sally drive to left. Varitek skips to first with a gay smile on his rosy face. Men on 1st and 2nd. 1out
Pitching change...nice game, Ervin. 5 1/3 innings, 8 hits, 5 runs, 5ERs, 3SOs, 1HR, 8.44ERA. Hey, with an ERA like that, you could easily replace Mike Timlin!
Alex Cora: Cora's trying to prove to Terry that he is a better choice than Jed and Julio. Who knows...he's definitely less sketchy than Julio...who's down in the Caribbean having drug dealers that stole money from him killed. Cora works a walk off the Angels newest: Arredondo. Bases Loaded with 1Out.
Ellsbury: Don't hit in to a double play. Arredondo is looking a little wild. Struck out Ellsbury. That's fine. He didn't double play. Bases loaded 2outs
Pedro: 0-6 in the series. Possible MVP choice. This is a fucked up year. We're going to elect either a Socialist black man or a moose hunting white woman in to the highest offices of the US...and a midget might get the MLB MVP. Pedro grounds out with the bases loaded. You know, this may come back to haunt the Sox. The Angels are fighting and the Sox are just trying to coast in to a win.
MVP says "Whiskey is a Vegetable. Always Eat Your Vegetables!"
Sox 5
Monkeys 3
Bottom 6:
Daisuke is out and his Japanese comrade is up. Okajima comes in. You know, I polled a bunch of asian hookers and the majority find Okajima to be more attractive than Matsuzaka. Isn't that weird? They all look the same to me!
Aybar: Grounds out to Cora, who looks really good actually. It's nice to see utility players step up when they have to and to be so consistent with it. 1out
Figgins: Faking bunts. You know what "bunt" rhymes with, Chone? That's right, punt....you cunt. He flies out to Jacoby. 2outs
Anderson: He's 0for3, but he's usually good for a hit. Here's hoping for 0for4. Ohhh what a catch by JD Drew! Holy shit! That ball was so gone! 3outs!
Sox 5
Angels 3
Top of the 7th:
Sox are putting their bats on the ball, but nothing is landing. The Sox need a couple more runs to solidify a win.
JD: Up to bat with 2outs. He's playing a great game. Beats out an infield hit. He's 2 for 4 tonight. Not too shabby, Drew! 1on 2outs.
Bay: Hooray! Here he is! Our knight in shining armor. Here to replace the dreadlocked latin lover! A clean Timothy McVeigh look-a-like! A single to right field! 2on 2out
Kotsay: Shitty pop out to right field. Stranded two more. We're playing like the Angels now.
Sox 5
Angels 3
Bottom of the Seventh: Starting to feel a little drunk. Sweet. Oki is back in. What a sexy little Japanese man.
Texieoraeja: He's 2 for 2. If I close my eyes, he's wearing a yellow shirt with doilies on the shoulder pads and he has a sombrero and a pencil thin moustache....oh and another fucking single to centerfield. This guy is consistent. Man on. Sin out-oes.
Vlad: Another 2fer. It's amazing this dude doesn't have more strike outs with his funky swing. Hard hit liner to left field. Two on. No outs. Sox make a change.
Goodbye Japan, hello Sur del Americano! Back after the switch!
Justin Masterson is in. A solid righty. He looked pretty good in his first year.
He gives up a pop out to Hunter to left and Texerfeaef moves up to 3rd. Man on 3rd and 1st. 1out
Rivera: No hits tonight and playing shitty. Fucking walked him. Are you serious? Bases Loaded 1out.
Goddamn it, Sox. Don't give this game to Angels.
Kendrick: Strikes out. Phew.
Napoli: Walks! A run is forced in. You FUCKING TOOLS! 2out Bases Loaded Sox 5 Angels 4
Masterson is flustered. I feel like a tard for saying he looked good.
Aybar: Struck out. Angels have left 11 on and trail by one. I feel our lead is a little shaky.
I have a charter group going out fishing tomorrow on my boat. I may murder them at sea if the Sox lose.
Sox 5
Angels 4
Top o' tha 8: Sox need to answer the last couple runs here. A few base hits would be nice.
Tek fags a ball to first and Cora decides that now is the time to strike out. It would be nice to see Ellsbury get on base.
Ellsbury walks. 2outs
Pitching change for the Angels. Good night, Scot (reducing his carbon footprint by removing one 't' from his first name) Shields.
Here comes K-Rod. "This guy threw at his own son a father-son game."
Pedro is the first to face him. Oh look, Ellsbury stole 2nd! Heh....and then Pedro grounds out. He's 0 for 5 on the night . No hits in the series. What a little douchebag.
Bottom of the 8th:
Chone: A fucking triple. Masterson should have been pulled. Man on 3rd.
Oh great, here comes fucking Riverdancer. The totally unpredictable one-pitch super hero.
Anderson is salivating. He knows it's a fast ball. Pops out. He got greedy. 1down Man on 3rd.
Next up Texwoertgifewosdc: He's on fire. A flamer, if you will. First pitch almost took his manhood and he spun away lithely like Michael Jackson. High fly ball to center. Chone tags and ties the game. 2outs
Sox 5
Angels 5
Guerro is back up now. 1 for 9 against Papelbon. Daisuke doesn't get a win. Pap throws another pop out. Pedro has it, but the Angels are officially off of my Christmas list. They are now on my shit list. In fact, I just shit in to a paper bag and I am working out a way to ship it to Angel Stadium and make it catch on fire upon delivery.
Tie-fucking-game.
Top of the 9: What a whirlwind of mindless typing this has been. I can really see the "enjoyment" people get out of doing it. By "enjoyment" I mean, a tedious blog entry that I will never do again unless I am forced to. Writing about a live baseball game is about as much fun as writing about Jesus.
Papi: Doubles. Too bad it couldn't get out. He's getting Coco to pinch for him. Nice hit David. Man on 2nd.
Youk: Grounds out. Fuck. 1out
No contest on the pickoff attempt at 2nd. Safe all the way.
Drew: At bat is looking bad. He's swinging like a sissy. Wait! What is this!?!! A big ass fly ball to right. It's just frigging going! Gone! AHAHAHAHAH! 2-run bomb by the anti-effusive JD Drew!
Sox 7
Bad Guy 5
Bay: This just in, radio guy announces that "Bay takes it". Bwahahahaha. And he "beats out" an infield hit! Man on 1st 1out
Kotsay: Line drive base hit to right! K-rod has given up...wait...counting....4 hits! That has to be a record...and isn't he a free agent this year? Future Yankee closer as Mariano retires? 1st and 2nd 1out
Nevermind, Tek continues to show off his .220 average and grounds in to a double play. How many more years until this shell of a hitter retires? FYI: Lex has never bought in to the whole Tek is God shit...it's as embarassing as brainwashing children to sign songs about Dear Leader Obama.
I think we all figured the dude out when it turned out he's been fucking a Sox reporter. In his defense, I'd fuck the shit out of her too. I think Rollo might go straight for a night with her too. Though he'd probably be more interested in taking her out for a coffee and a mani-pedi...typical elitist leftie prick.
Bottom of the ninth: Let's get through this using our brains. Don't throw for strikes, throw for ground balls.
Or bunts! Shit, Youk played that awesome. Hunter is fast. Good attempt, but a better fielding display. 1down
Gary Matthews Jr. - I like Jrs. such as Carls' Jrs. Jalepeno Burgers are awesome and colon distressing. Ass fire. My butthole just shivered thinking about it. Speaking of which. Matthews pops up...to Youk....he's moving out of bounds.....reaching....ahahahah! What the fuck kind of catch was that off the photographer? Hahaha. That play describes this whole series. Upsidedown backhand catch off a photographer...while Tek is getting blown by Heidi.
Tek...you dog.
Kendrick: He battles...and strikes out. Game over.
Crazy motherfucker gets the win!
Sox 7
Angels 5
The Sox are one game away from sweeping this 5-game series. Wow. I want to thank this blog for totally ruining that game for me. I've never paid attention to stats so much as I did tonight.
See?
Sox 7runs on 14hits
Angels 5runs on 11hits with 2errors
I wrote every hit down on paper.
You all suck. I'm going to prank call Cartola's dad and tell him I want to have sex with him.
Lex out.
Shit, I missed the most important first inning in two games. Fucking internet. Fucking cybersex. Seriously, who asks to cyber-cuddle after I cyber-asspound you? Ugh. I cyber-snuck out when she "fell asleep" (cyber-strangled).
Red Sox 4
Angels 1
Top of the Second: Aybar, you traitor. You field like Alex Rodriguez and hit like Mark Bellhorn. Thanks for the error. You just validated Alex Cora. Imagine that? The balding utility man, Cora. You may as well just hang yourself. 1 man on.
Ellsbury -- the force-out master. He's probably the most consistent force-out hitter in the league. If I had a stat slave, I'd have her confirm that. (My stat girl would absolutely be a chick...with jugs...of stats.) Way to go Ellsbury, now steal second and point in to the dugout at Cora and call him a bald utility guy. Man on first, one out.
Pedro--you scrappy little bastard. That ball could have been out of here...if the Angels weren't playing their positions and you hit it a little farther. Man on first, two outs. (Steal second, Jacoby)
Ortiz -- Here's the pitch...big swing from Big Papi! Ground ball, three outs. Cora chumped Aybar.
Bottom of the Second: Daisuke!...I yelled loudly out the window at a woman with a stroller... I called his lackadaisickal first inning. I knew he was going to give up a run. There's something about a four run lead that makes a starting pitcher feel dominant before they even step on the mound.
This time around, the Diceman looked better. Two good strike outs--the kind that makes the batter look like a chump for even swinging--and a fly ball to JD Drew. JD, bad back (from carrying around such a huge bag of money) and all, is looking good.
Top of the third: Out hitting the Angels 5 to 3...and more men just came out and admitted they are "Gay for Bay"...including Rollo's ex-boyfriend, who also blogs. How ironic eh? A gay man coming out AGAIN for Jason Bay....By the way, he's also "Live blogging" the game, you should read his play by play for actual real baseball. I'm a one trick expletive-laden pony.
Youk: Sorry I missed you in the first. Show me something. Fly out. Dammit. 1 out
JD: Thought flow of JD Drew this at bat: "Is it a contract year? No, not yet? Fuck it, I like this team. Hmm, hey, this bat is cupped. That's odd. Are they all like that? I wonder what Sean's bat looks like. Fuck! I'm out! Stop thinking about Sean Casey's dick, JD!" Strike out 2-down
Kotsay: 3and1 ground out to Chone...that should be the past tense form of "chine", which is what a clean choad does. 3outs
Bottom of the third: The Angels have to be jinxing the shit out of themselves in the dugout. How do you just not think about losing TEN TIMES IN A ROW IN THE PLAYOFFS TO THE RED SOX and YOU ARE LOSING AGAIN...someone put a uniform on the Rally Monkey and get him out there.
Chone, massaging his taint.
My boy, Chine: Stole 34bases and three cars this year. Fly out. 1 down.
Garret Anderson: I like this guy. Good player. Normal name. Ground out. That's my boy. 2 gone.
Teixeira: One of many strange Mexican-ish names. Base hit. Slapped faggily to center field. Man on first, 1 out.
Guerrero: If anarchy played baseball, it would bat like Vlad. Base hit to center field. You see? The Angels are repeating the first inning for me since I missed it. Nice guys. Now stop it. Honestly...how did Vlad just hit that pitch?
*Ugh, who gave the thunder sticks back to the fans? Californians are so fucking annoying...and it shows in their stupid toys. I heard a rumor that they use those things because their hands are so soft from never working a fucking day in their lives.
Toriiiiiiiii Hunter: Ohhh, a shitty groundball and a close play. He's out! Oh my god! In a typical Hunter freak out, he started to argue the call before he stopped running....knee twisted! The Blame whitey racist has some Godly smiting. I hope you tore your ACL and can't play for two years...in fact, I hope the only way they can fix you is if they cut out your tongue and use it for a replacement muscle. Shit, you're ok. Fuck you. 3outs.
Red Sox 4
Angels 1
Top of the Fourth: Toriiiiiiiiiiiii is gimping around in the outfield. Awww.
Kotsay: Fly out. Blah. C'mon Mark, make me write something snarky. 1out
Tek: Ground Out. That was quick. 2down
Cora: A double to center right! Should have been a single, but the Cartola look-alike takes second! Man on second, 2down
Ellsbury: Holy shit....a double over the head of Rivera! Nice play, dude! Cora scores.
Sox 5
Angels 1
Pedro: 0 for 3 now. Ground out to Choad. 3 out.
Well, the Sox added another on. Let's see if Daisuke stays in the groove.
Bottom of the 4th: Here we go!
Rivera: Let's see if he sucks at batting as much as he sucks in the field, eh? An infamous Daisuke walk. Free pass. Man on first.
Howie Kendrick: Strikeout. This is good. I like Matsuzaka strike outs. 1on 1out
Mathis: Chops a shot to left field. Bay coming on...and he realizes he can't catch with his shoulder! Man on 1st, man on 2nd. 1out
Ayiaaaiaiabar!: A double play is in his reach. Can he pull it off? Let's wait and see! Damn. Ground out to Kotsay at first. Runners advance. Men on 2nd and 3rd with 2 outs.
Friggins: Strike out like a man, man.
*Interlude* I love it when announcers tell us that so-and-so "takes it". That always makes me chuckle.
Back to Chone: Hanging in there. Three balls and two strikes. The ultimate duel. A base hit to left field. Chone responds to the Red Sox one run top. Men on 1st and 3rd with two outs.
Red Sox 5
Angels 2
Daisuke, nothing is on your hat. You just got Punk'd by Garret Anderson. Hah!
Anderson: Two quick strikes. Don't tease our Asians, please. They get all sorts of crazy. A long drawn out at bat. Lots of time outs. High fly to Bay in foul territory...slid too late. Still batting. Chone doesn't seem to be too interested in second base. Garret gets back in the box. He looks a little aprehensive. He's unsure of the next pitch...Struck him out! 3 down
Red Sox 5
Angels 2
Top of five: I'm going to make myself another vodka drink. I'm running out of catchy baseball terms and I feel sober.
Ok, here's a recap of that sucky 5th inning. The Sox did nothing. Papi struck out after a long at bad with some bat drama and then Youk and Drew flew out. The bottom of the fifth started out pretty shaky. Daisuke looks determined to walk 8 people in this inning if he can. It's weird to see Vlad not swing...he swings at everything. That is a barometer for Dice's game.
Back again. I'm starting to feel loose. Profanity is only four keys away. I like it. Daisuke looks like shit. He's allowed men to advance to 2nd and 1st and a run has already scored. He's thrown 100 pitches. It's the 5th inning, dude! Learn how to throw a fucking strike!
Matsuzaka is lucky that Rivera sucks ass and swung at that breaking ball. 1out.
Sox 5
Fags 3
Kendrick: He flies to center and Vlad moves up to third. Guerro is a tough looking motherfucker. I would love to see him on the East Coast in Boston. 2out Men on 1st and 3rd.
Daisuke to 105.
Ahhh, an "offensive substitution"...the Angels make a pretty odd choice of swapping out their catcher. Why the hell do you do that? Morales isn't THAT good. Hmm.
Morales: Looking like a strike out and a catching replacement. High pop. Fly out. One run only. Holy crap on a cracker.
Sox 5
Fags 3
Top of the Sixth!!! (I'm exclaiming everything I type like a Barack Obama supporter! Ahhh! Ahh! Mavericks!):
The Sox look very solid, but Daisuke just barely avoided an absolute implosion. What's crazy is that as shitty as he has looked at some points of the season, he holds the Sox record for Away wins without a loss in a season, going 9-0. At home he was 9-3. Maybe that 50million dollar "phone call" is affecting how we think this guy should pitch. Hell, in my mind, 50million should only be given to a man that can throw a pitch using only his mind and/or dominate an Umpire's mind with ESP to make him call contentious strikes.
Bay: A quick fly out. Somewhere a straight man just defended his manhood for declaring his love for Bay. 1out
Kotsay: Ohhh you just made Hunter look like a dick! Misplay...probably still thinking about his out at first and gimpy knee. Get this: This is Hunter's first error of the season! Sweet! 1 on.
Tek: 0 for 2. I think Tek's good for 1 for 3. Bam! I rule! Sally drive to left. Varitek skips to first with a gay smile on his rosy face. Men on 1st and 2nd. 1out
Pitching change...nice game, Ervin. 5 1/3 innings, 8 hits, 5 runs, 5ERs, 3SOs, 1HR, 8.44ERA. Hey, with an ERA like that, you could easily replace Mike Timlin!
Alex Cora: Cora's trying to prove to Terry that he is a better choice than Jed and Julio. Who knows...he's definitely less sketchy than Julio...who's down in the Caribbean having drug dealers that stole money from him killed. Cora works a walk off the Angels newest: Arredondo. Bases Loaded with 1Out.
Ellsbury: Don't hit in to a double play. Arredondo is looking a little wild. Struck out Ellsbury. That's fine. He didn't double play. Bases loaded 2outs
Pedro: 0-6 in the series. Possible MVP choice. This is a fucked up year. We're going to elect either a Socialist black man or a moose hunting white woman in to the highest offices of the US...and a midget might get the MLB MVP. Pedro grounds out with the bases loaded. You know, this may come back to haunt the Sox. The Angels are fighting and the Sox are just trying to coast in to a win.
MVP says "Whiskey is a Vegetable. Always Eat Your Vegetables!"
Sox 5
Monkeys 3
Bottom 6:
Daisuke is out and his Japanese comrade is up. Okajima comes in. You know, I polled a bunch of asian hookers and the majority find Okajima to be more attractive than Matsuzaka. Isn't that weird? They all look the same to me!
Aybar: Grounds out to Cora, who looks really good actually. It's nice to see utility players step up when they have to and to be so consistent with it. 1out
Figgins: Faking bunts. You know what "bunt" rhymes with, Chone? That's right, punt....you cunt. He flies out to Jacoby. 2outs
Anderson: He's 0for3, but he's usually good for a hit. Here's hoping for 0for4. Ohhh what a catch by JD Drew! Holy shit! That ball was so gone! 3outs!
Sox 5
Angels 3
Top of the 7th:
Sox are putting their bats on the ball, but nothing is landing. The Sox need a couple more runs to solidify a win.
JD: Up to bat with 2outs. He's playing a great game. Beats out an infield hit. He's 2 for 4 tonight. Not too shabby, Drew! 1on 2outs.
Bay: Hooray! Here he is! Our knight in shining armor. Here to replace the dreadlocked latin lover! A clean Timothy McVeigh look-a-like! A single to right field! 2on 2out
Kotsay: Shitty pop out to right field. Stranded two more. We're playing like the Angels now.
Sox 5
Angels 3
Bottom of the Seventh: Starting to feel a little drunk. Sweet. Oki is back in. What a sexy little Japanese man.
Texieoraeja: He's 2 for 2. If I close my eyes, he's wearing a yellow shirt with doilies on the shoulder pads and he has a sombrero and a pencil thin moustache....oh and another fucking single to centerfield. This guy is consistent. Man on. Sin out-oes.
Vlad: Another 2fer. It's amazing this dude doesn't have more strike outs with his funky swing. Hard hit liner to left field. Two on. No outs. Sox make a change.
Goodbye Japan, hello Sur del Americano! Back after the switch!
Justin Masterson is in. A solid righty. He looked pretty good in his first year.
He gives up a pop out to Hunter to left and Texerfeaef moves up to 3rd. Man on 3rd and 1st. 1out
Rivera: No hits tonight and playing shitty. Fucking walked him. Are you serious? Bases Loaded 1out.
Goddamn it, Sox. Don't give this game to Angels.
Kendrick: Strikes out. Phew.
Napoli: Walks! A run is forced in. You FUCKING TOOLS! 2out Bases Loaded Sox 5 Angels 4
Masterson is flustered. I feel like a tard for saying he looked good.
Aybar: Struck out. Angels have left 11 on and trail by one. I feel our lead is a little shaky.
I have a charter group going out fishing tomorrow on my boat. I may murder them at sea if the Sox lose.
Sox 5
Angels 4
Top o' tha 8: Sox need to answer the last couple runs here. A few base hits would be nice.
Tek fags a ball to first and Cora decides that now is the time to strike out. It would be nice to see Ellsbury get on base.
Ellsbury walks. 2outs
Pitching change for the Angels. Good night, Scot (reducing his carbon footprint by removing one 't' from his first name) Shields.
Here comes K-Rod. "This guy threw at his own son a father-son game."
Pedro is the first to face him. Oh look, Ellsbury stole 2nd! Heh....and then Pedro grounds out. He's 0 for 5 on the night . No hits in the series. What a little douchebag.
Bottom of the 8th:
Chone: A fucking triple. Masterson should have been pulled. Man on 3rd.
Oh great, here comes fucking Riverdancer. The totally unpredictable one-pitch super hero.
Anderson is salivating. He knows it's a fast ball. Pops out. He got greedy. 1down Man on 3rd.
Next up Texwoertgifewosdc: He's on fire. A flamer, if you will. First pitch almost took his manhood and he spun away lithely like Michael Jackson. High fly ball to center. Chone tags and ties the game. 2outs
Sox 5
Angels 5
Guerro is back up now. 1 for 9 against Papelbon. Daisuke doesn't get a win. Pap throws another pop out. Pedro has it, but the Angels are officially off of my Christmas list. They are now on my shit list. In fact, I just shit in to a paper bag and I am working out a way to ship it to Angel Stadium and make it catch on fire upon delivery.
Tie-fucking-game.
Top of the 9: What a whirlwind of mindless typing this has been. I can really see the "enjoyment" people get out of doing it. By "enjoyment" I mean, a tedious blog entry that I will never do again unless I am forced to. Writing about a live baseball game is about as much fun as writing about Jesus.
Papi: Doubles. Too bad it couldn't get out. He's getting Coco to pinch for him. Nice hit David. Man on 2nd.
Youk: Grounds out. Fuck. 1out
No contest on the pickoff attempt at 2nd. Safe all the way.
Drew: At bat is looking bad. He's swinging like a sissy. Wait! What is this!?!! A big ass fly ball to right. It's just frigging going! Gone! AHAHAHAHAH! 2-run bomb by the anti-effusive JD Drew!
Sox 7
Bad Guy 5
Bay: This just in, radio guy announces that "Bay takes it". Bwahahahaha. And he "beats out" an infield hit! Man on 1st 1out
Kotsay: Line drive base hit to right! K-rod has given up...wait...counting....4 hits! That has to be a record...and isn't he a free agent this year? Future Yankee closer as Mariano retires? 1st and 2nd 1out
Nevermind, Tek continues to show off his .220 average and grounds in to a double play. How many more years until this shell of a hitter retires? FYI: Lex has never bought in to the whole Tek is God shit...it's as embarassing as brainwashing children to sign songs about Dear Leader Obama.
I think we all figured the dude out when it turned out he's been fucking a Sox reporter. In his defense, I'd fuck the shit out of her too. I think Rollo might go straight for a night with her too. Though he'd probably be more interested in taking her out for a coffee and a mani-pedi...typical elitist leftie prick.
Bottom of the ninth: Let's get through this using our brains. Don't throw for strikes, throw for ground balls.
Or bunts! Shit, Youk played that awesome. Hunter is fast. Good attempt, but a better fielding display. 1down
Gary Matthews Jr. - I like Jrs. such as Carls' Jrs. Jalepeno Burgers are awesome and colon distressing. Ass fire. My butthole just shivered thinking about it. Speaking of which. Matthews pops up...to Youk....he's moving out of bounds.....reaching....ahahahah! What the fuck kind of catch was that off the photographer? Hahaha. That play describes this whole series. Upsidedown backhand catch off a photographer...while Tek is getting blown by Heidi.
Tek...you dog.
Kendrick: He battles...and strikes out. Game over.
Crazy motherfucker gets the win!
Sox 7
Angels 5
The Sox are one game away from sweeping this 5-game series. Wow. I want to thank this blog for totally ruining that game for me. I've never paid attention to stats so much as I did tonight.
See?
Sox 7runs on 14hits
Angels 5runs on 11hits with 2errors
I wrote every hit down on paper.
You all suck. I'm going to prank call Cartola's dad and tell him I want to have sex with him.
Lex out.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Toilet talk: Those crazy fauxbians and their retarded parents
Let me just start by saying that I am a man that shits and browses at the same time. They say our best ideas come while we are shitting. I agree with this, which is why I am about to talk about a couple of lesbians. Lesbianism must have been invented by a chick shitting, because it's fantastic!
Anyway, so I was browsing online and came across a bizarre headline. Note: I am not a celebrity fan by any stretch of the word. In fact, I can't even say I'd like to watch these two dike out. The "man" of this relationship looks suspiciously like an old friend of mine from grade school. He was a funny looking dude.
So browsing, I read this: LINDSAY'S GAL PAL SAYS THEY'LL GET MARRIED THIS YEAR
I was very curious about this. No last names and all capital letters. This double whammy headline is code for "Celebrity whoring" and "Our newspaper is failing". Never the less, I clicked it. Nothing like two chicks kissing while I'm deucing.
Turns out, it's Lindsay Lohan. I don't know much about her past her greasy vag having more paparazzi photos than her busted face. I honestly thought this girl had overdosed already and made the world just that much better. I was horribly wrong. She's been licking the carpet of a DJ Samantha Ronson. How cute! A dike DJ! Butch lesbians fall in to a very narrow band of professions: DJs, motorcycle enthusiasts, carnies, hot dog cart vendors, or LPGA golfers. Most of them are alcoholics (probably due to stressing out waiting for a set of testicles to descend), drug addicts, possessive bitches, or acoustic guitar players. I don't understand the last one anymore than I understand actually having breasts and still praying for a penis. I mean hey, you already got what every penis wants. Don't be fucking greedy.
Here's a photo of Lohan and Ron's son:
Lohan:
Sam:
Perfect. My entire vision of beautiful girl on girl has been shattered. The only thing that could completely neuter me would be witnessing Rosie O'Donnell riding Blair's (Facts of Life) retarded cousin Geri's face like a pommel horse.
So, now that I have taken you on a journey of the mind, let me get back to what I was thinking about: Being a responsible parent is very important. Thankfully, Lex here was raised well. Rollo's mom breast fed him until he was 18...that was a little weird. Moving on!
Most celebutards have equally retarded parents. Surprise, surprise. There are only so many parents that take pride in watching their offspring do sexually explicit things. Half of those people we call pedophiles. Lindsay Lohan's parents are no different. I wasn't shocked to hear that this woman:
Approved of her daughter testing out the waters of Gay Bay.
Lindsay's father may have had his second moment of clarity in his life. He disapproved of the whole thing and get this....unlike everything else Lindsay has done to get attention and otherwise be a strung out crackwhore....he thinks this whole make believe homosexual thing is just "the pair seeking fame and attention." If you were wondering, Mr. Lohan's first moment of clarity occured just after he shot a load semen in to that wreck of a woman above and thought to himself "Dear baby Jesus, what have I just done? I better not have just fathered a drug-addict, whore, make-believe-lesbian knuckle-dragger whom I will name Lindsay and who will go on to become a celebutard."
There are so many bad parents in the world. In fact, the sheer number of terrible parents out there is one of the only reasons I support abortion. I think it is much less cruel to vacuum a fetus before it turns in to a Lohan.
Now to wax psychological: One can only assume that Lindsay is the way she is because her parents were never there when she needed them. They were probably getting drunk and high after they put her to bed at night. They probably took vacations together and left Lindsay with her grand parents. Etc, etc, etc. And look at them now! Riding the coattails of their trainwreck daughter! (Google turns up 143,000 hits for "lohan trainwreck"). Bottom line is that they were self-centered, greedy, unaware, and emotionally detached from their daughter. Is anyone actually surprised that Lindsay turned out the way she did? She's an amplification of two complete assholes. It's so perfectly clear I could shit...
So, all being said thanks for letting me vent. That extra bit of tension I gave myself, because I truly loathe these fucking Hollywood types, helped me push out a few brownies. Time to wipe up and sign off.
Lex, out.
Anyway, so I was browsing online and came across a bizarre headline. Note: I am not a celebrity fan by any stretch of the word. In fact, I can't even say I'd like to watch these two dike out. The "man" of this relationship looks suspiciously like an old friend of mine from grade school. He was a funny looking dude.
So browsing, I read this: LINDSAY'S GAL PAL SAYS THEY'LL GET MARRIED THIS YEAR
I was very curious about this. No last names and all capital letters. This double whammy headline is code for "Celebrity whoring" and "Our newspaper is failing". Never the less, I clicked it. Nothing like two chicks kissing while I'm deucing.
Turns out, it's Lindsay Lohan. I don't know much about her past her greasy vag having more paparazzi photos than her busted face. I honestly thought this girl had overdosed already and made the world just that much better. I was horribly wrong. She's been licking the carpet of a DJ Samantha Ronson. How cute! A dike DJ! Butch lesbians fall in to a very narrow band of professions: DJs, motorcycle enthusiasts, carnies, hot dog cart vendors, or LPGA golfers. Most of them are alcoholics (probably due to stressing out waiting for a set of testicles to descend), drug addicts, possessive bitches, or acoustic guitar players. I don't understand the last one anymore than I understand actually having breasts and still praying for a penis. I mean hey, you already got what every penis wants. Don't be fucking greedy.
Here's a photo of Lohan and Ron's son:
Lohan:
Sam:
Perfect. My entire vision of beautiful girl on girl has been shattered. The only thing that could completely neuter me would be witnessing Rosie O'Donnell riding Blair's (Facts of Life) retarded cousin Geri's face like a pommel horse.
So, now that I have taken you on a journey of the mind, let me get back to what I was thinking about: Being a responsible parent is very important. Thankfully, Lex here was raised well. Rollo's mom breast fed him until he was 18...that was a little weird. Moving on!
Most celebutards have equally retarded parents. Surprise, surprise. There are only so many parents that take pride in watching their offspring do sexually explicit things. Half of those people we call pedophiles. Lindsay Lohan's parents are no different. I wasn't shocked to hear that this woman:
Approved of her daughter testing out the waters of Gay Bay.
Lindsay's father may have had his second moment of clarity in his life. He disapproved of the whole thing and get this....unlike everything else Lindsay has done to get attention and otherwise be a strung out crackwhore....he thinks this whole make believe homosexual thing is just "the pair seeking fame and attention." If you were wondering, Mr. Lohan's first moment of clarity occured just after he shot a load semen in to that wreck of a woman above and thought to himself "Dear baby Jesus, what have I just done? I better not have just fathered a drug-addict, whore, make-believe-lesbian knuckle-dragger whom I will name Lindsay and who will go on to become a celebutard."
There are so many bad parents in the world. In fact, the sheer number of terrible parents out there is one of the only reasons I support abortion. I think it is much less cruel to vacuum a fetus before it turns in to a Lohan.
Now to wax psychological: One can only assume that Lindsay is the way she is because her parents were never there when she needed them. They were probably getting drunk and high after they put her to bed at night. They probably took vacations together and left Lindsay with her grand parents. Etc, etc, etc. And look at them now! Riding the coattails of their trainwreck daughter! (Google turns up 143,000 hits for "lohan trainwreck"). Bottom line is that they were self-centered, greedy, unaware, and emotionally detached from their daughter. Is anyone actually surprised that Lindsay turned out the way she did? She's an amplification of two complete assholes. It's so perfectly clear I could shit...
So, all being said thanks for letting me vent. That extra bit of tension I gave myself, because I truly loathe these fucking Hollywood types, helped me push out a few brownies. Time to wipe up and sign off.
Lex, out.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Rollie Being Manny Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love My Championship
Normally, I think that people that talk about their slow-pitch softball games are of the same degenerate ilk as the people who will bend your ear about their fantasy team even when you're not in their league. But last Thursday's events were so bizarre, inexplicable, stupid, ultimately awesome, and, considering what occurred just before 4pm that day, oddly appropriate, that I just have to pass this story along.
It's our men's intramural softball championship, the bottom of the seventh (last) inning, just before midnight of a long day. I've just walked with the bases loaded, capping off a three-run comeback to tie the game, and there are still no outs. Just before my at bat, I looked around and felt confident that, pretty much no matter what, my unreliable baserunning (I'm the slowest able-bodied, less-than-obese, under-30 runner in America today) was not going to make the difference. If only that were true.
The next hitter, Daniel, does one thing and one thing only, and he does it well: every time, he (a righty) takes a step towards right and slaps the ball over the head of the first baseman. Positive that this is what's about to happen, I say to the first base coach, "With no outs, I am not moving from this base until the ball hits the ground. I don't want to get doubled up on a line drive." True to form, Daniel slaps one to right, but because of the situation, both the infielders and outfielders are playing way in. When the ball enters the glove of the right fielder on the fly, two steps into the outfield grass, my foot is still planted on first.
Even moments later, I don't recall anything about the next three or four seconds.
When my brain turns back on, I'm about two steps from second base and running full bore, and Nick, the runner on second, is looking at me incredulously. I'm equally surprised to see him. Oh my God, I realize, I've tagged up! On a soft liner to right! What have I done?! I turn around to look at first, expecting that I'm already out (forgetting that I've tagged up and they need to do a bit more than just touch first base), but I see that the right fielder still has the ball. I take a couple of steps back toward first. The right fielder and I are maybe 20 feet apart, staring at each other, the theme from "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" playing in our heads. Then, he takes a step toward me, like he's going to try to catch me in a rundown. This was unwise - there's nowhere for me to go, as Nick is standing on second and wisely not going anywhere, so all he has to do is walk the ball to second and tag one of us (where I would have volunteered myself, as Nick is a former track star, and my footspeed could best be described as "glacial"). But there he is, thinking "rundown." I'm thinking, "dead meat."
By now, all 20 or so players, two umpires, and the handful of wives and girlfriends (Mrs. Tomasi says later that as soon as she saw me leave first, she stood up and turned around, unable to watch) are all yelling, not one person saying the same thing. In the confusion, Dmitry, the runner on third, has gone about a third of the way toward home, but hesitantly. Just as the right fielder is getting ready to run me down, he sees this, and suddenly I'm no longer the center of attention, as Dmitry is the winning run. As the right fielder cocks to throw, Dmitry makes a break for home. The throw sails up, hits off the outstretched glove of the catcher, and trickles away. Dmitry triumphantly stomps on home and our bench empties to celebrate an undefeated season and our second straight championship.
Meanwhile, I'm still halfway between second and first, doubled over like I'm going to wretch. The rest of the team makes its way over to me, happily laughing and calling me a hero and asking me if I'd planned that, which I most certainly hadn't. If I'd remained on first like nearly any little leaguer would, we still have just one out and the bases loaded, and our one professor (one of my dissertation advisors, of course) would have had the chance to be a hero with one of his patented right-down-the-foul-line line drives. Of course, it would have been no sure thing, and you have to score when given the opportunity. Ironically, my boneheaded decision to run forced the events that led to the winning run scoring when it did ("pulling a Homer," if you will). But I think I can safely say I'll never do that again.
While all that is quite grand and possibly legendary, there's one delicious morsel left. Our team doesn't have uniforms, so what was I wearing during this game? My Manny Ramirez jersey t-shirt. Godspeed, Manuel Aristides Onelcida Ramirez. Your childlike wonder and inexplicable decisions infect us all.
It's our men's intramural softball championship, the bottom of the seventh (last) inning, just before midnight of a long day. I've just walked with the bases loaded, capping off a three-run comeback to tie the game, and there are still no outs. Just before my at bat, I looked around and felt confident that, pretty much no matter what, my unreliable baserunning (I'm the slowest able-bodied, less-than-obese, under-30 runner in America today) was not going to make the difference. If only that were true.
The next hitter, Daniel, does one thing and one thing only, and he does it well: every time, he (a righty) takes a step towards right and slaps the ball over the head of the first baseman. Positive that this is what's about to happen, I say to the first base coach, "With no outs, I am not moving from this base until the ball hits the ground. I don't want to get doubled up on a line drive." True to form, Daniel slaps one to right, but because of the situation, both the infielders and outfielders are playing way in. When the ball enters the glove of the right fielder on the fly, two steps into the outfield grass, my foot is still planted on first.
Even moments later, I don't recall anything about the next three or four seconds.
When my brain turns back on, I'm about two steps from second base and running full bore, and Nick, the runner on second, is looking at me incredulously. I'm equally surprised to see him. Oh my God, I realize, I've tagged up! On a soft liner to right! What have I done?! I turn around to look at first, expecting that I'm already out (forgetting that I've tagged up and they need to do a bit more than just touch first base), but I see that the right fielder still has the ball. I take a couple of steps back toward first. The right fielder and I are maybe 20 feet apart, staring at each other, the theme from "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" playing in our heads. Then, he takes a step toward me, like he's going to try to catch me in a rundown. This was unwise - there's nowhere for me to go, as Nick is standing on second and wisely not going anywhere, so all he has to do is walk the ball to second and tag one of us (where I would have volunteered myself, as Nick is a former track star, and my footspeed could best be described as "glacial"). But there he is, thinking "rundown." I'm thinking, "dead meat."
By now, all 20 or so players, two umpires, and the handful of wives and girlfriends (Mrs. Tomasi says later that as soon as she saw me leave first, she stood up and turned around, unable to watch) are all yelling, not one person saying the same thing. In the confusion, Dmitry, the runner on third, has gone about a third of the way toward home, but hesitantly. Just as the right fielder is getting ready to run me down, he sees this, and suddenly I'm no longer the center of attention, as Dmitry is the winning run. As the right fielder cocks to throw, Dmitry makes a break for home. The throw sails up, hits off the outstretched glove of the catcher, and trickles away. Dmitry triumphantly stomps on home and our bench empties to celebrate an undefeated season and our second straight championship.
Meanwhile, I'm still halfway between second and first, doubled over like I'm going to wretch. The rest of the team makes its way over to me, happily laughing and calling me a hero and asking me if I'd planned that, which I most certainly hadn't. If I'd remained on first like nearly any little leaguer would, we still have just one out and the bases loaded, and our one professor (one of my dissertation advisors, of course) would have had the chance to be a hero with one of his patented right-down-the-foul-line line drives. Of course, it would have been no sure thing, and you have to score when given the opportunity. Ironically, my boneheaded decision to run forced the events that led to the winning run scoring when it did ("pulling a Homer," if you will). But I think I can safely say I'll never do that again.
While all that is quite grand and possibly legendary, there's one delicious morsel left. Our team doesn't have uniforms, so what was I wearing during this game? My Manny Ramirez jersey t-shirt. Godspeed, Manuel Aristides Onelcida Ramirez. Your childlike wonder and inexplicable decisions infect us all.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Sometimes, YouTube ruins everything
Yesterday I forwarded this news story to the other lads from this site. It sure seemed to be the best story ever. You have all the ingredients - dorky British youths, random acts of violence with unusual weapons, catchphrases ("DARTH VADER!"), and religious persecution. (And a follow-up note: don't you think, of all the fates that could befall the Jedi Church, that one thing they'd be ready for is an attack by Lord Vader?) In fact, so that I could post this story to our blog, as part of my trimonthly effort to update this blog, I went back to the BBC News link.
Then I saw the video. (I would post it, but it's so lame. Just read the story and stick with my vision.)
Wow, that was far less exciting that I had hoped. I was picturing an actual church building, maybe some old Anglican building ticketed for demolition but in which a couple of nerds could live out their fantasies in the meantime. I was picturing full-on ComiCon regalia, complete with fake lightsabers, and an attack by a crazed drunken man in the full-length Vader outfit. I was also picturing blood. For a country whose drunken violence is legend around the world, this is about the most disappointing display I've ever seen.
I was really trying to bring the funny back to this blog, because Lex has gotten more than a little preachy, but I failed. Thanks a bunch, BBC.
Then I saw the video. (I would post it, but it's so lame. Just read the story and stick with my vision.)
Wow, that was far less exciting that I had hoped. I was picturing an actual church building, maybe some old Anglican building ticketed for demolition but in which a couple of nerds could live out their fantasies in the meantime. I was picturing full-on ComiCon regalia, complete with fake lightsabers, and an attack by a crazed drunken man in the full-length Vader outfit. I was also picturing blood. For a country whose drunken violence is legend around the world, this is about the most disappointing display I've ever seen.
I was really trying to bring the funny back to this blog, because Lex has gotten more than a little preachy, but I failed. Thanks a bunch, BBC.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Steve Martin's, The Jerk - Iraq War "5 Years To Many" Version
Who does the liberal left attract as its base? Followers. Kids who grew up without books but with "graphic novels". Kids who don't try to discover the truth for themselves but instead rely on people like Barack Obama (he speaks so well! What an orator!) to tell them what they should think.
Rick Cartola is voting Obama. He said he doesn't know why. He's just following his "gut", he says.
Listen, Field of Dreams was a movie and Kevin Costner is allowed to tear down his entire livelyhood at the risk of destroying his family, killing his daughter, and having to live off welfare to build his dream...because IT'S A FUCKING MOVIE and not real life. Obama is that voice in the cornfield, and no, I'm not saying that he's a field working negro slave of Howard Dean. Obama represents imaginary hopes and dreams that will never be realized. He's selling dick-growing cream out of the trunk of his car using his own as proof it works, and no I'm not saying that all black people have giant penises, just look at Rollo. Cartola, you'd be better off hanging a car battery off your dick every night to stretch it out. Obama's cream isn't even good to masturbate to once you realize how filthy and unregulated it is. Obama is telling us that he will tear down Comiskey Park and build up a new park that is bound to get everyone in to the home team. What he's doing is selling us out. He wants to build a big money sucking US Cellular Field. I don't like it.
For you locals, this is like knocking down the Galleria and putting in a bigger shittier mall. It did nothing except waste money that could have been better spent killing Worcester's homeless.
Cartola also states that he thinks that putting your hand over your heart during the Pledge of Allegiance is "gay". His words. Folks, that is your liberal base. Turning the country gay since 1978.
Michelle Obama was actually right when she said "[our] country is full of lazy do-nothing sloths". It's easy to see that when she hangs out at her husbands rallies and all the people are retarded.
This post is to dishonor that moonbat bitch America hater and terror lover Cindy "the cunt" Sheehan and her grammatically challenged cohorts.
I give you my version of one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite movies:
I know we've only been at war in Iraq five years and one day, but to me it seems like 11 years and 241 days. The first year seemed like three years and the second year seemed like two years and 146 days. The third year seemed like three years again And the fourth year, when we killed al-Zarqawi, that seemed just like 85 days, and then the Democrats starting complaining, so that started seeming like two years. So in February 2007, it seemed like two years and 85 days spilling over into March and that started seeming like 192 days, so at the end of the fourth year on into the fifth year, it seemed like a total of two years and 277 days. And the fifth year, because of the surge, it seemed like only half a year.
I have it written down, but I can show it to you tomorrow if you want to see it.
Rick Cartola is voting Obama. He said he doesn't know why. He's just following his "gut", he says.
Listen, Field of Dreams was a movie and Kevin Costner is allowed to tear down his entire livelyhood at the risk of destroying his family, killing his daughter, and having to live off welfare to build his dream...because IT'S A FUCKING MOVIE and not real life. Obama is that voice in the cornfield, and no, I'm not saying that he's a field working negro slave of Howard Dean. Obama represents imaginary hopes and dreams that will never be realized. He's selling dick-growing cream out of the trunk of his car using his own as proof it works, and no I'm not saying that all black people have giant penises, just look at Rollo. Cartola, you'd be better off hanging a car battery off your dick every night to stretch it out. Obama's cream isn't even good to masturbate to once you realize how filthy and unregulated it is. Obama is telling us that he will tear down Comiskey Park and build up a new park that is bound to get everyone in to the home team. What he's doing is selling us out. He wants to build a big money sucking US Cellular Field. I don't like it.
For you locals, this is like knocking down the Galleria and putting in a bigger shittier mall. It did nothing except waste money that could have been better spent killing Worcester's homeless.
Cartola also states that he thinks that putting your hand over your heart during the Pledge of Allegiance is "gay". His words. Folks, that is your liberal base. Turning the country gay since 1978.
Michelle Obama was actually right when she said "[our] country is full of lazy do-nothing sloths". It's easy to see that when she hangs out at her husbands rallies and all the people are retarded.
This post is to dishonor that moonbat bitch America hater and terror lover Cindy "the cunt" Sheehan and her grammatically challenged cohorts.
I give you my version of one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite movies:
I know we've only been at war in Iraq five years and one day, but to me it seems like 11 years and 241 days. The first year seemed like three years and the second year seemed like two years and 146 days. The third year seemed like three years again And the fourth year, when we killed al-Zarqawi, that seemed just like 85 days, and then the Democrats starting complaining, so that started seeming like two years. So in February 2007, it seemed like two years and 85 days spilling over into March and that started seeming like 192 days, so at the end of the fourth year on into the fifth year, it seemed like a total of two years and 277 days. And the fifth year, because of the surge, it seemed like only half a year.
I have it written down, but I can show it to you tomorrow if you want to see it.
Friday, March 7, 2008
The Diary of Frank Ann
Well, you've lost a few pounds since New Year's. You didn't live up to your resolution to gain more weight. What's next? Wearing heavy boots and six layers of sweat pants? What do I know, I'm just a dentist, but a patient of mine left behind his own secrets to success in a little black book of dreams. He came in the other day and asked if he left anything behind, but he broke my nice green dental chair and when I checked his gumline there was bacon stuck in it so I am releasing it all to the public. I will post more of Frank Ann's diary in the future, but for now use these entries to help you in your own trials with weight gain:
Day 1: So Thin, So Depressed
My name is Frank. I only weigh 180 lbs. soaking wet. Why am I so thin?! I hate myself. Why can't I live in Africa or have a heroin habit? Well, I've had it. Fuck this, I'm eating alfredo sauce on my pasta tonight. If I can gain 2 lbs a week for two and half months, I will gain 20 pounds! I can do this world! I will fight the good fight! I feel fatter in my soul already!
Day 3: Gained 5 Pounds!
185!!! Today I ate a fucking ham lambasted in barbeque sauce on a stick. Then after breakfast I weighed in for the first time. I gained 5 pounds in three days! But I think I'm going to hit a wall soon. There's only so much weight a person can gain in a certain finite time. I just need to keep this up. Live the dream. Eat the dream.
Day 17: Kind of Down, Only Gained 15 Pounds Since I Started
Why have I reached this plateau? 195. I'm sticking to the system. I brush my teeth with milkshakes. I'm eating entire loaves of bread and drinking hard. Maybe I should switch from Bacardi and Diet Coke to PBR. Why is this so hard! I'm not stressed enough, damn it. I think I'll take up smoking.
Day 23: Dreams Can Come True
203 pounds of beefcake. I knew if I started chain smoking and eating the old donuts out of the dumpster behind Dunkins' that I'd start to meet my goals. I can be fat world! I can be a fucking lard ass!!! I have surpassed my goal of twenty pounds in record time. Fuck you Mom for saying I couldn't be as obese as you.
Day 24: No Pain, No Weight Gain
My chest hurts. I need to work through the pain. Eat. Just eat. You can do it. That rotisserie hot dog at 7-11 was just the beginning. Baby steps.
Day 32: Evacuation Routes
Why do I have to shit so much? The shit leaving my body feels so wrong. That weight just goes away forever. I feel so useless, so non-obese. I've gained 35 pounds, but I feel so empty inside.
Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. What? Shut up Mom, I'm writing my hopes and dreams! I will too weigh as much as you!!
Day 45: Moving Too Much
I realized today that if I just sit on the couch for eight more hours a day, I can rapidly gain more poundage than ever! I shall sit and be proud. My scale doesn't work anymore.
Day 1: So Thin, So Depressed
My name is Frank. I only weigh 180 lbs. soaking wet. Why am I so thin?! I hate myself. Why can't I live in Africa or have a heroin habit? Well, I've had it. Fuck this, I'm eating alfredo sauce on my pasta tonight. If I can gain 2 lbs a week for two and half months, I will gain 20 pounds! I can do this world! I will fight the good fight! I feel fatter in my soul already!
Day 3: Gained 5 Pounds!
185!!! Today I ate a fucking ham lambasted in barbeque sauce on a stick. Then after breakfast I weighed in for the first time. I gained 5 pounds in three days! But I think I'm going to hit a wall soon. There's only so much weight a person can gain in a certain finite time. I just need to keep this up. Live the dream. Eat the dream.
Day 17: Kind of Down, Only Gained 15 Pounds Since I Started
Why have I reached this plateau? 195. I'm sticking to the system. I brush my teeth with milkshakes. I'm eating entire loaves of bread and drinking hard. Maybe I should switch from Bacardi and Diet Coke to PBR. Why is this so hard! I'm not stressed enough, damn it. I think I'll take up smoking.
Day 23: Dreams Can Come True
203 pounds of beefcake. I knew if I started chain smoking and eating the old donuts out of the dumpster behind Dunkins' that I'd start to meet my goals. I can be fat world! I can be a fucking lard ass!!! I have surpassed my goal of twenty pounds in record time. Fuck you Mom for saying I couldn't be as obese as you.
Day 24: No Pain, No Weight Gain
My chest hurts. I need to work through the pain. Eat. Just eat. You can do it. That rotisserie hot dog at 7-11 was just the beginning. Baby steps.
Day 32: Evacuation Routes
Why do I have to shit so much? The shit leaving my body feels so wrong. That weight just goes away forever. I feel so useless, so non-obese. I've gained 35 pounds, but I feel so empty inside.
Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. What? Shut up Mom, I'm writing my hopes and dreams! I will too weigh as much as you!!
Day 45: Moving Too Much
I realized today that if I just sit on the couch for eight more hours a day, I can rapidly gain more poundage than ever! I shall sit and be proud. My scale doesn't work anymore.
Political genetics (Real democrats are a dying breed)
Let me start this by declaring my affiliation:
You may be thinking, "Lex, what the hell does a half-shaved pygmy horse with a cock like a gas pump led by a midget cowboy in a flashy red hat and a wife beater have to do with political afilliation?"
Well, everything, gentle reader. You see, horses and donkeys are scientifically the same right up to their genus (Equus). This beneficial classification means that horses and donkeys can fuck, but the offspring are usually sterile. The combination of donkeys and horses produce two things: mules and hinnies. Mules, we know are stubborn and stupid. Hinnies, on the other hand, are known to be smarter than horses and more agreeable than donkeys. Unfortunately, only mules have a chance to breed. I won't get into that, because I'm a fisherman not a geneticist. I'll just say that like most normal non-retarded offspring of any species, horses and donkeys have 64 chromosomes, and like most Republicans south of Philadelphia and between Louisana and Charleston, NC, incorrectly bred offspring will contain 62 or 63 chromasomes. Only 63 chromosome offspring will be able to breed again for one generation...because then their offspring go sterile 62s. I want to actually make it official now that a 6-2 hand in poker is called "pocket mule", "Ozarktarded", or simply "Pocket sterile".
Any way, I'm a Democrat. I was born and raised Democrat in the wonderful state of Massachusetts. In fact, I was born with 64 chromosomes as well. Unfortunately, lots of Democrats of my generation were the products of half-Democrat half-Republican parents.
This means that there is a good chance many of my friends are gay and will never reproduce, hate children altogether and if anything they'll abort all their kids, or we'll have one more generation of true Democrats...then all our future offspring will be hybrids of a broken two party system in which we can't tell the difference in either party except that half of the people will be smart and agreeable (centrists Dems and Repubs) and the other half will be stubborn and stupid (far-right conservative Dems and Repubs). Of course, we'll also have those few outsiders with the 62 chromosomes (Green, Rainbow, Communist, and far-left-going-to-die-off-because-they-hate-all people).
So let's go back to that small horse and it's likeable little trainer. Our current generation of democrats are growing up believing the myth of Global Warming without any hard evidence, attending universities that have a terrible liberal agenda that destroys your child's will to think, and possibly meeting older transgendered bed-mates intent on making sterile hinnies out of them. That little trainer is all those ideas that destroy your kids. He may be cute, well-dressed, and employed, but this isn't always a good thing.
Bottom line: Encourage your kids to think for themselves. Don't make it easy for them to follow the guy with the most bling, the largest vagina, or the most wrinkles until they can tell you what each stands for. Our generation is truly at a crossroads. Trouble is, we all have a Garmin we thinks gives the right directions, but most of the time we know it's going to be the long way around.
Don't be afraid to ask tough questions of people who are supposed to lead you. Asking Mr. Obama directions to the Mexican-Canadian TransAmerican Superhighway shouldn't get you called a racist. Asking Mr. McCain when the last time he had an erection on his own shouldn't get you called a euthanasiast. Asking Mrs. Clinton why you think her vagina probably smells like a mix of feet and bengay shouldn't make you a sexist.
You may be thinking, "Lex, what the hell does a half-shaved pygmy horse with a cock like a gas pump led by a midget cowboy in a flashy red hat and a wife beater have to do with political afilliation?"
Well, everything, gentle reader. You see, horses and donkeys are scientifically the same right up to their genus (Equus). This beneficial classification means that horses and donkeys can fuck, but the offspring are usually sterile. The combination of donkeys and horses produce two things: mules and hinnies. Mules, we know are stubborn and stupid. Hinnies, on the other hand, are known to be smarter than horses and more agreeable than donkeys. Unfortunately, only mules have a chance to breed. I won't get into that, because I'm a fisherman not a geneticist. I'll just say that like most normal non-retarded offspring of any species, horses and donkeys have 64 chromosomes, and like most Republicans south of Philadelphia and between Louisana and Charleston, NC, incorrectly bred offspring will contain 62 or 63 chromasomes. Only 63 chromosome offspring will be able to breed again for one generation...because then their offspring go sterile 62s. I want to actually make it official now that a 6-2 hand in poker is called "pocket mule", "Ozarktarded", or simply "Pocket sterile".
Any way, I'm a Democrat. I was born and raised Democrat in the wonderful state of Massachusetts. In fact, I was born with 64 chromosomes as well. Unfortunately, lots of Democrats of my generation were the products of half-Democrat half-Republican parents.
This means that there is a good chance many of my friends are gay and will never reproduce, hate children altogether and if anything they'll abort all their kids, or we'll have one more generation of true Democrats...then all our future offspring will be hybrids of a broken two party system in which we can't tell the difference in either party except that half of the people will be smart and agreeable (centrists Dems and Repubs) and the other half will be stubborn and stupid (far-right conservative Dems and Repubs). Of course, we'll also have those few outsiders with the 62 chromosomes (Green, Rainbow, Communist, and far-left-going-to-die-off-because-they-hate-all people).
So let's go back to that small horse and it's likeable little trainer. Our current generation of democrats are growing up believing the myth of Global Warming without any hard evidence, attending universities that have a terrible liberal agenda that destroys your child's will to think, and possibly meeting older transgendered bed-mates intent on making sterile hinnies out of them. That little trainer is all those ideas that destroy your kids. He may be cute, well-dressed, and employed, but this isn't always a good thing.
Bottom line: Encourage your kids to think for themselves. Don't make it easy for them to follow the guy with the most bling, the largest vagina, or the most wrinkles until they can tell you what each stands for. Our generation is truly at a crossroads. Trouble is, we all have a Garmin we thinks gives the right directions, but most of the time we know it's going to be the long way around.
Don't be afraid to ask tough questions of people who are supposed to lead you. Asking Mr. Obama directions to the Mexican-Canadian TransAmerican Superhighway shouldn't get you called a racist. Asking Mr. McCain when the last time he had an erection on his own shouldn't get you called a euthanasiast. Asking Mrs. Clinton why you think her vagina probably smells like a mix of feet and bengay shouldn't make you a sexist.
Another thing not to expect is for me to be a nice person if we start talking politics right now, because I'm fucking pissed about Michelle "I have never been proud of my country or my 316,000/yr salary, mansion in Chicago, or my Ivy League education" Obama. I actually had my finger on the Obama button until the colors started running...now I'm truly confused.
This is how confused I am:
Friday, February 15, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
A Dear John Letter to Corn Farmers
Dear Corn Farmers,
What the fuck?
Seriously, I thought we were cool, guys. I thought we had something together. Those summer evenings by the barbecue, shucking corn... mornings in the kitchen making johnny cake (fuck you, it's not cornbread, it's JOHNNY CAKE)... heating up some frozen corn for dinner during my bachelor days... Jiffy Pop by the fire with that special someone.... special memories, all of them.
But then you bend me, and all of the other American consumers, over the proverbial grist mill. How could you? After all we've had together?
How could you raise the price of my beer?
It's true. There's a worldwide hops shortage going on. Bad weather killed the crop last fall, and inflation in prices for glass, aluminum, and fuel isn't helping. And now I find out that the rising prices of not only hops, but also barley and wheat, are due to farmers opting to use their land for corn instead of these other, get-me-drunker grains.
Don't get me wrong, I still love corn. Who doesn't? But do you really need to fall all over yourselves responding to the ethanol push, when turning corn into ethanol fuel actually takes more energy than the ethanol fuel itself can produce? Why would you encourage the government to do something so short sighted? Can't you make enough just selling your delicious corn to gluttonous consumers like myself?
It wasn't enough that I spend more on beer every month than I spend on my student loans. Now they're asking me for another dollar for every pint at my favorite brewpubs, and soon that's going to spill over into my favorite mass-marketed craft beers. Eventually, even the shit beer I have to drink when my credit card gets rejected will go up in price. And then what will I have to do? Switch to wine? What am I, some kind of fruit?
Two can play at this game, Cornholers. (See what I did there? Ha!) I was all set to unleash upon the world my greatest invention, one that was sure to revolutionize nutrition and keep you swimming in filthy lucre until the end of time. I'm speaking, of course, about The Corn Diet.
You'll need TP for your bunghole!
The Corn Diet would encourage followers to substitute towards foodstuffs that pass through the digestive tract largely unchanged - things like corn, carrots, peanuts, and Legos. It's pretty clear that there aren't too many calories actually consumed by these foods, since there's little difference in their constitution before and after they enter one's body. Then, we can all fill up on these things, tricking our stomaches into thinking we got the calories that our evolutionary biology still thinks we need (despite the fact that most of us sit around watching TV, masturbating, and writing blogs instead of hunting woolly mammoths and dancing around strange black obelisks like in the good ol' days). Finally, a diet plan that truly can't fail!
And to think, I even gave you the top billing. Millions of fat (need I say "American"?) consumers would only have read as far as, "eat all the corn..." and you would have made out like bandits. But our deal is off. Keep an eye out for the Peanut Diet, coming next year to self-help websites and Oprah. You can find me at my mansion in Georgia, draped in a Confederate flag and being fellated by lovely Southern debutantes while I dance passionately with Mr. Peanut.
He's so classy. Who wouldn't want to screw him?
There's still time for you to reconsider. All that needs to happen is for the price of beer to fall back down to what it was at this time last year, and all will be forgiven. I need to trust you again, Corn Farmers. Please let me trust you.
Regretfully yours,
RT
What the fuck?
Seriously, I thought we were cool, guys. I thought we had something together. Those summer evenings by the barbecue, shucking corn... mornings in the kitchen making johnny cake (fuck you, it's not cornbread, it's JOHNNY CAKE)... heating up some frozen corn for dinner during my bachelor days... Jiffy Pop by the fire with that special someone.... special memories, all of them.
But then you bend me, and all of the other American consumers, over the proverbial grist mill. How could you? After all we've had together?
How could you raise the price of my beer?
It's true. There's a worldwide hops shortage going on. Bad weather killed the crop last fall, and inflation in prices for glass, aluminum, and fuel isn't helping. And now I find out that the rising prices of not only hops, but also barley and wheat, are due to farmers opting to use their land for corn instead of these other, get-me-drunker grains.
Don't get me wrong, I still love corn. Who doesn't? But do you really need to fall all over yourselves responding to the ethanol push, when turning corn into ethanol fuel actually takes more energy than the ethanol fuel itself can produce? Why would you encourage the government to do something so short sighted? Can't you make enough just selling your delicious corn to gluttonous consumers like myself?
It wasn't enough that I spend more on beer every month than I spend on my student loans. Now they're asking me for another dollar for every pint at my favorite brewpubs, and soon that's going to spill over into my favorite mass-marketed craft beers. Eventually, even the shit beer I have to drink when my credit card gets rejected will go up in price. And then what will I have to do? Switch to wine? What am I, some kind of fruit?
Two can play at this game, Cornholers. (See what I did there? Ha!) I was all set to unleash upon the world my greatest invention, one that was sure to revolutionize nutrition and keep you swimming in filthy lucre until the end of time. I'm speaking, of course, about The Corn Diet.
You'll need TP for your bunghole!The Corn Diet would encourage followers to substitute towards foodstuffs that pass through the digestive tract largely unchanged - things like corn, carrots, peanuts, and Legos. It's pretty clear that there aren't too many calories actually consumed by these foods, since there's little difference in their constitution before and after they enter one's body. Then, we can all fill up on these things, tricking our stomaches into thinking we got the calories that our evolutionary biology still thinks we need (despite the fact that most of us sit around watching TV, masturbating, and writing blogs instead of hunting woolly mammoths and dancing around strange black obelisks like in the good ol' days). Finally, a diet plan that truly can't fail!
And to think, I even gave you the top billing. Millions of fat (need I say "American"?) consumers would only have read as far as, "eat all the corn..." and you would have made out like bandits. But our deal is off. Keep an eye out for the Peanut Diet, coming next year to self-help websites and Oprah. You can find me at my mansion in Georgia, draped in a Confederate flag and being fellated by lovely Southern debutantes while I dance passionately with Mr. Peanut.
He's so classy. Who wouldn't want to screw him?There's still time for you to reconsider. All that needs to happen is for the price of beer to fall back down to what it was at this time last year, and all will be forgiven. I need to trust you again, Corn Farmers. Please let me trust you.
Regretfully yours,
RT
We're assailing our own faiths now, too....
We're likely to talk a lot about religion around here, led of course by Lex "Just Because You're An Islamophobe Doesn't Mean They're Not Out To Get You" Lesotho. Talking about religion makes a lot of people uncomfortable... and we strive for making people uncomfortable, in all facets of life.
As all four of us are of Irish and/or French-Canadian blood, we grew up primarily in the Catholic faith. Like many people our age, though, none of us are what one would call "devout"; Cartola had a head start on being a heathen as his family was never the churchgoing type, Lex thinks he's Christopher Hutchins, Keyser isn't allowed back after that incident with the altar server, and I go only on those Sunday mornings when I'm not massively hungover (read: just Christmas and Easter). Still, we feel like we can assail the Catholic Church more than all others (except Lex and Islam) because we're one of them, sort of like how black folks are the only ones that can drop the n-bomb.
Three incidents have recently reminded me why I have such a problem with Catholics. (And yes, all come from the world of sports, because I get all my news from sports blogs.)
First, and most egregiously, comes this quote from the Archbishop of St. Louis, Raymond Burke, regarding SLU coach Rick Majerus' support of abortion rights and stem cell research at a Hillary rally:
(A related, possibly apocryphal story from a few years ago: Back when my wife was in law school, she had a professor that was on loan from BC Law. Apparently the president of BC, Father B. L. Zabub, S.J., had asked the then-dean of the Law School how many practicing Catholics were on the Law faculty. When the dean didn't know, he was let go. I didn't realize that BC Law was only concerned with canon law, and not the laws of the secular, godless world.)
Incident number two:
Finally, something closer to home for me. The town-versus-gown battle never stops around Boston College, but some BC fans took it too far when they made anti-semitic comments about some of the Brighton residents who are in opposition to... well, pretty much everything involving BC. I'm no fan of the Brightonians (and there's no way I'm linking to their blog), as they're petty, ridiculous, and want nothing less than BC to move back to the South End, but this kind of statement on the BC message board makes no sense:
I don't think I'm alone in feeling like the Catholic Church and its more outspoken lay members are doing all that they can to drive me away. And they wonder why Mass attendance is still trending down, churches are going belly-up, no one signs up for Holy Orders anymore, and "lapsed Catholic" is a widespread stereotype....
As all four of us are of Irish and/or French-Canadian blood, we grew up primarily in the Catholic faith. Like many people our age, though, none of us are what one would call "devout"; Cartola had a head start on being a heathen as his family was never the churchgoing type, Lex thinks he's Christopher Hutchins, Keyser isn't allowed back after that incident with the altar server, and I go only on those Sunday mornings when I'm not massively hungover (read: just Christmas and Easter). Still, we feel like we can assail the Catholic Church more than all others (except Lex and Islam) because we're one of them, sort of like how black folks are the only ones that can drop the n-bomb.
Three incidents have recently reminded me why I have such a problem with Catholics. (And yes, all come from the world of sports, because I get all my news from sports blogs.)
First, and most egregiously, comes this quote from the Archbishop of St. Louis, Raymond Burke, regarding SLU coach Rick Majerus' support of abortion rights and stem cell research at a Hillary rally:
It's not possible to be a Catholic and hold those positions. When you take a position in a Catholic university, you don't have to embrace everything the Catholic church teaches. But you can't make statements which call into question the identity and mission of the Catholic church.(emphasis mine) Now, it's been a while since the last time I was excommunicated (the Jesuits really didn't appreciate my feces sculpture of St. Ignatius Loyola), but I'm pretty sure I'm still a Catholic. Was I not supposed to stand up for the rights of pregnant women? Was I not supposed to push for medical innovation that can potentially prolong the lives of sick adults? I can understand disagreeing with Majerus and Clinton - though the pro-life stance makes much more sense to me than the anti-stem cell research stance - but just because you're a Catholic doesn't mean you should have to take every word from a very conservative Vatican as (pardon the pun) gospel. I expected more out of you, Roman Catholicism; this kind of opinion squashing I saw as the purview of some organization with far less intellect and smart governance, like the Bush Administration.
(A related, possibly apocryphal story from a few years ago: Back when my wife was in law school, she had a professor that was on loan from BC Law. Apparently the president of BC, Father B. L. Zabub, S.J., had asked the then-dean of the Law School how many practicing Catholics were on the Law faculty. When the dean didn't know, he was let go. I didn't realize that BC Law was only concerned with canon law, and not the laws of the secular, godless world.)
Incident number two:
Fuck Notre Dame!Now, I can totally get behind those first two sentiments (though fucking Notre Dame would feel a little like getting with the girl who has had WAY too much to drink, what with the state of their football program). And I've been known to jokingly curse out God and His Son and, yes, His Holy Spirit, on occasion if properly motivated. But here's the key: jokingly. Even Lex's favorite imams give props to Jesus as a great guy. Dana Jacobson was clearly kidding; it was a roast, for Christ's sake (ouch). People make crazy exaggerated (drunken) statements at those things. But that doesn't mean that Christ's One Representative On Earth, Bill Donohue, from making wild pronouncements and demanding more than just an apology. Perhaps a crucifixion is in order? That would even the score.
Fuck Touchdown Jesus!
Fuck Jesus!
Finally, something closer to home for me. The town-versus-gown battle never stops around Boston College, but some BC fans took it too far when they made anti-semitic comments about some of the Brighton residents who are in opposition to... well, pretty much everything involving BC. I'm no fan of the Brightonians (and there's no way I'm linking to their blog), as they're petty, ridiculous, and want nothing less than BC to move back to the South End, but this kind of statement on the BC message board makes no sense:
If it was Brandeis looking to move into this neighborhood, we wouldn't be having this discussion.The Holocaust stuff, that's (hopefully) just bad luck; people use Nazis as imagery for overly strict people all the time, and the fact that one of the Brighton No-Goodniks is related to a Holocaust survivor is probably only a coincidence. Still, the anti-semitic sentiment wasn't necessary, as it's hard to make the case that religion is the reason for their constant opposition to BC expansion. But accusing people of being anti-Catholic in Boston? The city of Boston is more pro-Catholic than the Holy See. It's been a long time since Catholics were discriminated against in Boston - even the old money Brahmins have an Irish brogue these days. Lots of people can feel discriminated against in Boston - blacks, Hispanics, blacks, Republicans, blacks - but Catholics are the last group that should feel that way.
I don't think I'm alone in feeling like the Catholic Church and its more outspoken lay members are doing all that they can to drive me away. And they wonder why Mass attendance is still trending down, churches are going belly-up, no one signs up for Holy Orders anymore, and "lapsed Catholic" is a widespread stereotype....
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
This Week in Righteous Indignation: Ashura in New York City! (Party like it's 999)
Nothing says "multiculturalism" like forcing fucked up festivals of self-mutilation celebrated by a very small percentage of your population while at the same time spinning the news like this sort of thing is OK and shame on everyone else for "misunderstanding" the "Religion of Peace".
This year the main stream media covered a beautiful Shia holiday known as Ashura. Perhaps some of you have seen the "celebrations" on TV in previous years. Perhaps you even said to yourself, "that's fucked up." Perhaps you fucking cried on your lesbian sister's shoulder not because the women are excluded from celebrating and children 4months and older are forcefully cut with razorblades, but because when 2% of your population can pull the wool over the eyes of 98% of the rest of the country it may mean that they'll also warm up to two unshaved dykes eating each other's asses on the back of a Harley.
Ashura is well-known because of mourning for the martyrdom of Husayn ibn Ali, the grandson of Muhammad and the third Shia Imam, along with members of his family and close friends at the Battle of Karbala in the year 61 AH (AD 680 to all you Islamophobes and Kaffirs). (Thanks wikipedia) It's good to note that Husayn, innocent women and children, and his small army were massacred, which is still a common practice of modern muslims when they disagree about something. I suppose I can also mention that since 9/11, there have been over 10,000 deadly attacks committed in the name of Allah by Muslims.
So, in hopes that if we keep giving out money, hugs, and Korans that Muslims will stop being unruly barbarians stuck a thousand years in the past with no legitimate scientific or otherwise world helping invention since Mohammed the pedophile subjugated an entire region, we have shed some light on Ashura in America. Now, I have no problem with Islam in itself. I have a problem with it being forced on everyone because the modern civilized world has a problem with suicide bombs, misogyny, homophobia, FGM, self mutiliation, extermination. We are called "Islamophobic", a 10-cent assfuck word developed by the same twats that beat their wives and extort millions from their kool-aid drinking followers *cough* CAIR *cough*. So, without further ado, take a look at some of the beatiful multicultural photographs from this year's Ashura in New York.
When you get to the photo of the guy covered in his own blood twirling a sword around, please not he is not part of an NYC stage show and that is his own sword that he keeps somewhere in his house with the soul purpose of drawing blood out of human flesh.
And if you want to say that Christians are just as bad with their mock crucifixtions in the Philippines and parts of South America, please note that these people represent a far smaller percent of their religion than Muslims celebrating Ashura.
And if you want to say that Christians commit just as many attacks against civilians, please show me 10000 religious attacks against other people in the last six years. That's 4.5attacks per day that caused death.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
And we're back!
Dear Readers (i.e. my three colleagues and probably my wife),
We'd like to apologize for the lack of posting lo these many months. I can't speak for my co-bloggers but my schedule was crazy-busy, and on top of that, I felt like the only one contributing. But Worcester Tango 2.0 promises to be a better and funnier and more active experience, with regular features like these:
This Week in Righteous Indignation
Rather than sending vitriolic IMs and links to YouTubes we'll never watch, Lex will have a forum here to express his hatred of Moslems, liberals, liberal Moslems, and his latest Friday night transvestite conquest. Guaranteed to angry up the blood or your money back!
Impugning with Impunity
What good is an anonymous blog if you don't use it to spread blatantly false rumors and insult irritants?
The Shit List
Going a step further, we'll identify which graves you'll find us dancing on, assuming we outlive these enemies. If bile doesn't inspire us all to post more, I'm not sure what will.
Keyser's inKoherency Korner
He can't help it, he's a fraternity-alumnus engineer. Just be glad his posts aren't just a jumble of grunts and Greek letters like his former blog.
Our Heroes
Finally, some positivity. We will expound the virtues of all the people, places, and things that inspire us. My epic 12-post Tribute to Cheez-Its will probably fall under this category.
What Cartola Does Instead Of Doing Work, Improving His Life, Or Writing That Great American Novel That He's Been Talking About Since High School: A Continuing Saga
Or maybe he'll be so picky about what he writes in his posts, trying to write The World's Greatest Post EVA, that he'll never actually hit send. That might be more likely.
And of course, more Man on Man Action!
We should probably also put more politics, sports, and tits in here too. People like politics, sports, and tits.
Watch this space for more hilarity. Or at least a mild chuckle.
We'd like to apologize for the lack of posting lo these many months. I can't speak for my co-bloggers but my schedule was crazy-busy, and on top of that, I felt like the only one contributing. But Worcester Tango 2.0 promises to be a better and funnier and more active experience, with regular features like these:
This Week in Righteous Indignation
Rather than sending vitriolic IMs and links to YouTubes we'll never watch, Lex will have a forum here to express his hatred of Moslems, liberals, liberal Moslems, and his latest Friday night transvestite conquest. Guaranteed to angry up the blood or your money back!
Impugning with Impunity
What good is an anonymous blog if you don't use it to spread blatantly false rumors and insult irritants?
The Shit List
Going a step further, we'll identify which graves you'll find us dancing on, assuming we outlive these enemies. If bile doesn't inspire us all to post more, I'm not sure what will.
Keyser's inKoherency Korner
He can't help it, he's a fraternity-alumnus engineer. Just be glad his posts aren't just a jumble of grunts and Greek letters like his former blog.
Our Heroes
Finally, some positivity. We will expound the virtues of all the people, places, and things that inspire us. My epic 12-post Tribute to Cheez-Its will probably fall under this category.
What Cartola Does Instead Of Doing Work, Improving His Life, Or Writing That Great American Novel That He's Been Talking About Since High School: A Continuing Saga
Or maybe he'll be so picky about what he writes in his posts, trying to write The World's Greatest Post EVA, that he'll never actually hit send. That might be more likely.
And of course, more Man on Man Action!
We should probably also put more politics, sports, and tits in here too. People like politics, sports, and tits.
Watch this space for more hilarity. Or at least a mild chuckle.
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