Bill:
Yeah, Sidney "Super Size Me" Ponson sure is earning his 22.5 million. A regular fucking extra value meal that guy. [Laughs]
Doug:
My hair hurts. Yet tomorrow is full of nods.
Bill:
Hmmm … this optimism does not become you.
Doug:
My previous statements were made in haste. I am hungry and confused. I need a cruller, you know? I love the cruller. Mankind craves the cruller after a 15-2 lashing. But noooo! Those punk ass bitches at Dunkin's stopped motherfucking making that oblong bit of deep fried joy.
Bill:
You know who's to blame? Those effete pricks in Seattle that's who. Turning every decent God fearing red, white, and blue donut shop into a pussy whipped Starbucks. [Laughs]
Doug:
I knew there's a reason why I hated Seattle. Fuck yeah. I've got your grande right here. Bring on Bitchiro.
Susan/Circle:
I hate the punk Orioles. They always play the Sox tough but when their pinstriped boyfriends roll into town they're all wearing their fuck me spikes … all " you can get this lap dance here for free."
Bill:
I feel like an ancient doctor with ancient ideas … Do you think it would be possible to have small holes drilled into my skull so that good strong drugs could be poured down on to my brain?
Mike:
The Fucking Insta Pudnut is like one of those guys at Fenway talking on his cell phone on and on and you're thinking, "Does this dude ever shut the fuck up?"
Bill:
So the A's come in on a 5 game winning streak and winners of 8 of their last 10 …
Mike:
No problema. Schill on the hill tonight.
Bill:
It's not tonight I'm worried about. [Sings with country twang] "I've got friends in Lowe places, when Derek let's them run the bases."
Mike:
Whatever happened to Garth Brooks anyway? Didn't he go mental and change his name and shit?
Bill:
Jeez, talk about your fucking curses! [Laughs] So far Kerry's campaign has been about as effective as Derek Jeter's .190 BA.
Doug:
Unlike POTUS, though, dude can ride the fuck out of a bike. [Laughs]
Bill:
Yeah, my Irish Catholic bro's got a mofo lock on the all important skinny guys with shaved legs wearing bright lycra voting block. [Laughs]
Doug:
Let's see …NASCAR voting block versus skinny guys on bikes voting block … Whoo hoo! We're going to the World Series with JFK 2! Can't fucking wait for that shit. [Laughs]
Mike:
I still have faith in Lowe. He just needs to work through it.
Doug:
Work through it? Are you fucking insane? There is no through—this isn't a maze. There's no curtain, no other side. The other side is just a bed-time story for frigid necrophiliacs for fuck's sake. Everybody knows this. [Laughs]
Mike:
So what's your recommendation Dr. Phil?
Doug:
Lowe could try neglecting to shower. See, I like the way my head gets after a few days of not showering—it's like I have a much keener sense of my skull—how truly perceptive its various surfaces are. And to feel that perceptive is to feel raw, bestial power.
Mike:
And this is what Derek Lowe needs in your, er, vision? [Laughs]
Doug:
In truth, probably not. Anyone who nearly loses his nose to fucking cancer yet continues to chew the Skoll is probably too fucked up to ever be anything but a mediocre pitcher with occasional moments of brilliance.
Doug:
Too bad the Spankees didn't lose. Whenever I look at the results and see L next to NYY, it's the same wonderful feeling of the cold toilet seat on my ass when I'm about to take a 2 flush, shipyard dump.
Bill:
Speaking of Spankees, did you see Catalano's all up in arms over CrackerJackGate?
Doug:
When isn't that Yankee ho all cranked up? I thought that new pool would chill her motherfucking Long Island ass out?
Bill:
You hate Cracker Jacks? Who the fuck hates Cracker Jacks?
Doug:
It's the mofo free prizes, dude. At first I was lured in slowly. Each new toy appeared to be a new step toward establishing me in an eternal state of play. The insufficiency of each discarded toy was always hidden by the promise of the next toy. But Magic Motion Fun Cards? What the fuck is that all about? A is for Airplane. F is for Fuck you toy frauds and I damn all your flickers, tilters and wiggle pictures to hell! [Laughs]
Bill:
You didn't have too many friends as a kid did you? [Laughs]
Doug:
I've said it before and I'll say it again: My resplendence has no bitch. [Laughs]
Bill:
Unbelievable. Only the 17th ever! And he and Clemens are giving us 40-somethings a dose of the feel good.
Mike:
Yeah, between what Pinto is calling "the year of the old pitcher" and the breakthrough in erectile disfunction meds, you old-timers are in the mofo house! [Laughs]
Bill:
Yeah, Shank is our resident Ghostbuster. Always talking about disasters of Biblical proportions. Fire and brimstone. The dead rising from the graves.
Doug:
[Imitating Bill Murray] Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together - mass hysteria. [Laughs] Is Shaughnessy the Gatekeeper?
Bill:
Well, he is always sliming everybody. [Laughs]
Doug:
Note to the Shank: Spend less time writing about the ghosts and goblins and more time, er, providing baseball news.
Doug:
Right on! Me and Derek Jeter shall swing by the Anal Ranch, pick up the Lord (you know how much He adores all things Yankees!), and we shall have a Butt-Fuck Week End. And the Lord shall ask, "How do you like being on the bottom?" And I will respond, "Lord, I was motherfucking born into it."
Bill:
Last night marked the 9th time in the last 11 games the Red Sox gave up at least a run in the first inning.
Doug:
It's so easy to get to first in the first on Sox pitching they are becoming the sluts of the AL. Need a booty call? Dial up a starter.
Bill:
So much for thinking I could get off Prozac this year. Instead, I'm going to have to increase the dosage. Bring on that frequent micturition. [Laughs]
Susan/Circle:
No joke. Sveum sends Manny from 2nd on a weak single to left when Manny runs like a Sleestack?!?!?!?
Mike:
No shit. Sveum is channeling Wendell Kim. Remember him? The Sox ought to gut their losses and just install one of those machines they use at the airport that randomly selects people for extra searching. Stop. Stop. Stop. Go. Stop. Go. [Laughs] Would have as much success.
Susan/Circle:
And I heart David Ortiz, but why is he ever in the lineup against lefties?
Mike:
Yeah, when I see him flailing around in desperation, I all of a sudden feel as if I'm being humped about the head by giggling eunuchs.
Susan/Circle:
[Laughs] Ouch. Or maybe not. Does eunuch humpification about the head hurt or just annoy? Hey, you do your write in voting for the Ortizzle?
Mike:
25 times from the IP here. 25 times at home. 25 times from Wholly Donut's WiFi … You?
Susan/Circle:
Ditto, dude, though only with multiple email identities from home. I don't think they're IP checking.
Doug:
Sure, but don't be signing me up for his fan club just yet. I'm thinking something about an infinity of monkeys pounding on an infinity of keyboards and a resulting encyclopedia. [Laughs]
Bill:
So I hadn't realized before that the Tribe's C.C. Sabathia is a Super Sizer? What is up with all the fat pitchers? Sabathia, Ponson, Wells … all look like they'd be more at home on the couch, pants unbuttoned to give the gut some space, eating nachos and watching Spike TV.
Doug:
I am comforted by these fast food diet pitchers. Fuck Atkins. Fuck South Beach. We should not forget that we have arisen from a simple browsing hunger. The fat man is the logical evolutionary next step: the focusedbrowsing. Though one must not stare.
Doug:
No prophet is acceptable in his own village. We have planks in our eyes. Will no one get this fucking plank out of my eye?
Bill:
[Laughs] Er, I think the point is you have to remove your own plank yourself …
Doug:
What the… Remove my own plank? What about all that help your neighbor shit? Now I've got to do everything myself? This religion stuff is too motherfucking difficult.
Bill:
[Laughs] Yeah, if it wasn't for getting to kill heathens in the name of God, nobody would sign up for that shit.
Doug:
Yeah, all you who have ears and shit listen up: There's nothing like a motherfucking religious war to keep everybody happy.
The question is who isn't fascinated by the knuckleball? …
Bill:
OK, Miss M-I-T smarty pants. What can you tell me about Zink?
Tara:
Symbol Zn. Atomic number 30. Zinc is an essential mineral that is found in almost every cell. It stimulates the activity of approximately 100 enzymes, which are substances that promote biochemical reactions in your body. Helps heal wounds …
Bill:
[Laughs while interrupting] Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down. Not that zinc, Charlie Zink, with a k.
Tara:
Why didn't you say so? [Laughs] Charlie Zink, Red Sox pitching prospect currently in double A Portland where he has twice carried no hitters into the 8th inning …
The Sox lose 10-6 with a weak outing by B.K. Kim …
Mike:
This team named after the indigenous peoples of the Americas is starting me on a trail of tears.
Susan:
Sending McCarty to the plate against a Major League pitcher is like sending Custer to Wounded Knee. A massacre waiting to happen.
Mike:
As horrible as the lineup is, 6 runs should win the game. B.K. is awful right now. At 82 MPH, his fastball is becoming an oxymoron. The Cleveland Native Americans are hitting it like a slow ballon.
Susan:
Kim is a definite maybe. But is he old news?
Mike:
As a starter he is found missing. A tragic comedy.
Susan:
[Laughs] I'm clearly confused. Is he hurt? Or did the Red Sox just spend $10 million for pickled cabbage?
Mike:
Bring on Arroyo! And bring on the memories of the beatings my mother used to give me.
Bill:
And Mark Malaska is not the go to guy in the 6th inning of a close game. Francona is making poor decisions.
Doug:
KC has their best batter up in a crucial spot, and Francona decides to go with the least reliable option in the bullpen?It's to the point where Francona needs two dwarves to follow him about and inquire endlessly into his bullpen philosophy. Or he needs a bench coach and a computer. Novel ideal, that. [Laughs]
Doug:
Yeah, except for that first pitch 84 MPH ballus de meatus.
Bill:
No kidding. I hadn't even settled into the game when I was already having to change my undies after I'd shit my pants. What's up with Pedro and homers this year?
Doug:
BDD points out Pedro has given up six homers in 43 2-3 innings this season, after giving up only seven in 186 2-3 innings last season.
Bill:
I blame the Jerri curls. Pedro used to look scary mean. Now he looks, I dunno … kinda sleepy or something.
Doug:
Wimps. I was having fun watching the Bob Costas types come all undone. Oh, the humanity. Oh, the loss of dignity. Boo fucking hoo. [Laughs]
Bill:
Fuck Spiderman. The question is when are they going to make an action movie on that superhero of all superheroes: Aquaman!
Doug:
No shit! I can see the tag line now: "He Swims! Then he, er … swims faster! Then he, well, you know, he fucking swims and shit assholes what more do you want? This swimming is hard fucking superhero business!" [Laughs]
Mike:
[Feigning a suspicious tone] Well, that's what they're calling it. Maybe he was so distraught over the lousy play during the 5 game skid that he pulled an Oedipus.
Susan/Circle:
"No more shall ye behold such sights of woe, deeds I have suffered and myself have wrought …"?
Mike:
Exactly. "Dark, dark! The horror of darkness, like a shroud, wraps me and bears me on through mist and cloud."
Susan/Circle:
In all seriousness, I really hope he's OK.
Mike:
Ditto. After all, without sight, one could never behold the beauty of the young Johnny Damon doll. [Laughs] Press his Red Heart and He will sing "You Are My Sunshine."
The losing streak ends at 5 as the Red Sox beat the Indians 9-5 …
Bill:
First I have to thank the Lord Jesus Christ. It is only through Him that we are able to Ortizzle.
Doug:
It is only through Him that I am able to move my eyeballs from left to right, right to left and to crane my neck the way I do. Imagine not being able to move your eyeballs or crane your neck!
Bill:
How does it feel to jump back on the Red Sox bandwagon?
Doug:
It feels like unwavering morning wood while riding the junior high school bus. On the one hand, you are tingly with the unexpected enormity of your Levi corduroy pop tent. On the other hand, you are abashed and a little ashamed of the timing not to mention your singular desire to more than anything hold a set of your nubile bus mates mammeries in your handeries. It matters not whose.
Bill:
Hey, they don't call it the Vengabus for nothing. [Laughs] Did you hear the Spankees sent Contreras to Single A?
Doug:
Our Lord works in mysterious ways, like letting his only Son, Johnny Jesus Damon bat a leper like .245. Johnny, why hath the Father forsaken you?
Bill:
And tonight, the golden calf demands our worship. [Laughs]
Doug:
What us panic? Get the fuck out. This is part of a grand scheme.
Bill:
Yeah, Theo Epstein is playing chess while we play checkers.
Doug:
Yes, these losses are good doncha know? It's more efficient to group them together like this. It's about process and not outcome.
Bill:
It's like they used to say in Vietnam: "We had to destroy the village in order to save the village" The Red Sox, likewise, have to lose games in order to win the division. Makes perfect fucking sense.
Doug:
Vietnam? Hey, don't you be bringing John Kerry into this bad Red Sox mojo. He was in Vietnam you know.
Bill:
You're shitting me! I did not know that. You'd think that'd be part of his campaign or something. [Laughs] So do you think the Red Sox are in a quagmire?
Doug:
I do believe the Red Sox are completely mired in the quag.
Bill:
I sure as fuck am glad the Red Sox are playing the weak teams.
Doug:
Yeah, I fucking love how many games they're gaining on the Yankees. Cowboy Fucking Up!
Bill:
Right. I'm pissing my pants with happiness that our boy genius GM has created an offensive juggernaut in Pokey fucking Reese and Cesar ohmigod Crespo.
Bill:
I am so down with that Bill James shit. I'm going to get a tat across my ass saying "SABR Lives!" How's that fucking 11th place in slugging percentage working out for you?
Doug:
I can't fucking wait to spread my seed and drop some kids on this great baseball city so I can sign their asses up for "Kid Nation"!
Bill:
Yeah, drink up your Hood milk you pint sized diehard sonzabitches and then I'll give you something to cry about: Bill Mueller.
Doug:
We still believe! Oh, yeah, I love blind faith. Sign me the fuck up.
Bill:
Of course you do. You're a martyr and can't wait for your reward of 72 bags of peanuts in heaven.
Doug:
Abso-fucking-lutely. Can't wait 'til tonight to beat up again on the rinky dinky cellar dwellers!
Tara:
Saw that. Those DER numbers are scary, giving hitters a .337 BA versus Schill and a .141 against Westbrook.
Bill:
It's time for the offense to bust out … er, as much as they can bust it without Trot and Nomar. What do you think on the Gammons' Zito trade rumors?
Tara:
There's no doubt Gammons is correct in suggesting that if the A's are out of contention, Zito is the guy they'd most likely jettison. But as for a trade involving the Sox? Seems unlikely.
Mike:
Is the offense dead or just hangin' its hat in Tennessee? Either way this morning I'm as heartbroken as Willie Nelson after meeting with the IRS.
Doug:
My achy breaky heart. And my hangover. I feel like shit. Fuck this is a country song I'm living in.
Doug:
Highlight of my weekend was seeing the Wonkette on CNN.
Mike:
Yeah, I caught a piece of that. Hard to believe a chick who comes across on TV like a sweet girl next door type, like she's about to hand you some fresh baked chocolate chip cookies or a hot apple pie is the same chick who sprinkles her blog posts with ass fucking references.
Doug:
She is a resolute dissonance. A divergence from the expectable. Ideas protrude …
The Sox drop both games on a double. Fr. Lasik, a Soxaholix himself, and mindful of Pedro's recent public statements …
Scene from a church:
Our Lord has much to instruct us about team work and sacrifice, no?
Bill from home:
Jesus said, "Grapes are not gathered from thorns nor figs from thistles; they do not give fruit. A good person brings forth good from his treasure; a bad person brings forth evil from the evil treasure in his heart, and he speaks of evil. For out of the abundance of his heart, he produces evil."
Elsewhere this Sunday morning, Bill yells to no one in particular …
Bill from home:
[Furiously] Memo to Pedro: Are you fucking insane? The sonavabitch is hurt; he knows he's hurt; and that's why he's so bitchy. He wants that contract signed, sealed and delivered before his arm drops off.
