Help is on the way

After a craptastic loss to Baltimore, the Red Sox had an off day while the Soxaholix had some technical difficulties …

Doug:
What the hell happened yesterday? I fight my way through the madding crowd to get to work only to find some burly, steel jawed man in black telling me I can't enter the office?

 

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Bill:
Beats the fuck out of me. All I can get out of ol' man Scrivener is it had something to do with the accounting department and windows.

 

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Doug:
Fucking bean counters, though I enjoyed getting the free fuck off all day.

 

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Bill:
Meanwhile, doctor fucking Watson has similarly given several Red Sox some time away from work, eh?

 

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Doug:
Sucks but there's something to be said for having the phrase "suspended for inciting a bench-clearing incident and fighting" in your employee file.

 

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Bill:
In V-Tek's case sure. But what the fuck did Kapler do to deserve it? Well, besides beating the crap out of Sturtze after the camera cut away? [Laughs]

 

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Doug:
Guess Gabe didn't get the fucking memo about never being asked to fight a war without a plan to win the peace. [Laughs]

 

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A rose by any other name

The Sox trailing Baltimore 4-2 in the 3rd get a fortunate rain out last night to keep their win streak alive …

Mike:
So we get the Schill on the hill tonight. Curt on the motherfucking dirt …

 

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Doug:
Hell, yeah, Montague is who we fucking turn to.

 

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Mike:
Montague? What the fuck you talking about Juliet?

 

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Doug:
Hey, don't be fucking biting your thumb at me … [Laughs] Montague is Schilling's middle name.

 

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Mike:
No, shit? I like that. "Montague merci beaucoup!"

 

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Doug:
Montague makes hitters shit in their shoes.

 

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Mike:
Fuck yeah! Montague will sweep through like a crazy Sioux, tried and true. Screw with the Gue? Fuck you! Here's a serving of splitter cordon bleu.

 

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Doug:
Slow day isn't it? [Laughs]

 

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Mike:
Dude, no shit. All we've got is rain, bunny suits, and Gammo.

 

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Doug:
That and the hope of getting frisked walking the streets. I'm not wearing any underwear.

 

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Mike:
Shit, and some people say the only thing we have to fear is George Bush. [Laughs]

 

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Charging in Charm City

12-5 over the Orioles …

Bill:
Well, I'll be damned. The Red Sox finally put a beat down on the lousy Orioles.

 

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Tara:
Poor stupid dumb ass Karim Garcia. How's that 0 for 2 against Pedro "float your boat" now?

 

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Bill:
Yeah, Karim your jeans Garcia ought to watch his back. I heard Teresa Heinz wants to shove something up his putrid ass. [Laughs]

 

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Tara:
Yeah, Pedro is becoming what the Ketchup Lady would call a "perfect bastard" with his starts: Since last year's All-Star Game, Martinez has a record of 19-6 with a 3.35 ERA in 34 starts and opponents are batting just .233 against him.

 

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Bill:
And what about Mendoza's last two appearances? Are you ready to love him?

 

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Tara:
Not so fast. He's had some flashes of the old Dozey before remember … let's go on a few more dates before we mention the L word. [Laughs]

 

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"Decision 2004" (Blah blah blah)

The Red Sox take 2 of 3 from the Yankees and post A-Brawl everyone wonders if the team is finally ready to play up to expectations …

Bill:
What a way to end a vacation, eh? A brawl and a walkoff on Saturday, then a Sunday night nail biter …

 

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Doug:
No shit. I thought for sure all the celebrities in house last night would bring the jinx. Meanwhile, I know you trend toward the Anybody But Bush camp, but I tell you what, at least when W tosses out the ceremonial first pitch he fires a strike from the rubber and not some pansy ass can't reach the plate from the grass in front of the mound bullshit like the Pallbearer did last night. What the fuck is up with that? [Laughs]

 

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Bill:
So you've abandoned your "I'll base my Presidential vote strategy on who has the hottest daughters" to one of "I'll vote for whom throws a baseball better"? What are you, the lowbrow version of George Will or something? [Laughs]

 

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Doug:
Yo, I'm just sayin' … Why do I get the feeling Kerry's girly throw is an ominous metaphor for what his administration would be like. [Imitating Kerry's voice] "I voted to throw a strike before I voted to lob a lollipop off the grass." [Laughs]

 

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Bill:
Yeah, yeah, whatev. All I know is that with the motherfucking convention in town, I got frisked 5 times getting to the office this morning.

 

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Doug:
No shit. I haven't had my fucking balls fondled by so many different hands since I was last in Mexican whorehouse.

 

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Bill:
"No, officer, that's not a pistol in my pocket, I'm just happy to see the Wonkette." [Laughs]

 

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Doug:
Heh. Here's hoping the Red Sox pack some Stephanopoulos heat in Baltimore.

 

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Selling sea shells at the seashore

As the days run away like wild horses …

Lisa the Temp:
Hello, I'm Lisa the Temp here to tell you The Soxaholix are on vacation.

 

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Lisa the Temp:
They say they'll return in all their craptastic glory on Monday, July 26th.

 

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Lisa the Temp:
Meanwhile, I'm stuck here with this piece of shit computer. I know retro is in and all, but what the fuck?

 

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Lisa the Temp:
No problem. I'm used it. Temps get no respect, no fucking respect at all.

 

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Lisa the Temp:
I was told I'm supposed to end by saying something about the Red Sox, but screw that. I don't even like baseball. Stupid boring ass game, all that spitting and crotch grabbing like a bunch of overpaid monkeys. [Laughs]

 

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Slagged and sullen and sun-glazed

It's an ugly start to the second half, ugly …

Bill:
So let me get this straight. With every pitcher rested, you start the first fucking game after the All Star with your worst guy?

 

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Mike:
Terry Franconia Crotch says, "Every inning he was averaging about 25 pitches, which makes it tough going right from the get-go" … Well, no fucking shit, Dick Tracy.

 

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Bill:
95 pitches in four innings and only 58 for strikes?! And last night's game wasn't a one off, no random fucking anomaly.

 

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Mike:
Abso-fucking-lutely, last night was just Lowe being Lowe … nights with glass edges and the impossible stink of river moss — worse than shit.

 

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Bill:
Note to the fucking guy who's not a manager but plays one on TV: What fucking Derek Lowe have you been watching all craptastic season? For the love of God, why did you lead off the second half with the stinkerballer? So much for momentum. Where's the boy genius Theo in all this?

 

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Mike:
Checkerboard days of moves and countermoves, fagged interest, with as much sense in defeat as in victory; slow days like mules humping it slagged and sullen and sun-glazed …

 

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Bill:
Lowe is so fucking done he's beyond toast. He is vaporized carbon matter.

 

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Mike:
Waking up to an 8-1 defeat on the other side of the continent, three geraniums outside a window, trying to be red and trying to be pink and trying to be geraniums, no wonder sometimes the women cry …

 

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Bill:
And the men, too. Mules up a long hopeless Red Sox hill. Is it football season yet?

 

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The clock ticking on warm as a cobra

Finally, baseball resumes tonight with the Red Sox meeting up with the Angels in Cali, meanwhile …

Mike:
So Mullet Man's agent alludes that Boston may be low on the skinny red neck's list because he wants to play for a so-called contender. What the fuck is up with that?

 

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Doug:
Randy Johnson is a fucking pussy, that's all. He's 41 and he's tired. Wants the easy life at the Steinbrenner Home for the Aged.

 

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Mike:
No, shit. Fuck the Big Wrinkled Unit. I think of him and I think of old men in four dollar rooms looking for socks in dresser drawers while standing in brown underwear all the time the clock ticking on warm as a cobra.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, waiting on the anvil while smoking, pissing, reading Genet or the funny papers … [Laughs] Meanwhile, it's on to the Left Coast to start the second half.

 

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Mike:
Isn't Anaheim where that hotter than hot Gwen Stefani and her band of never doubtful backups hail from?

 

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Doug:
Yeah, yeah, but I lost my celebrity fan stalker wanking worship for that bitch … I'm just not a mole man if you know what I'm sayin' … Skinny O.C. girl's got some sort of malignancy or something.

 

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Mike:
What the fuck are you talking about? The chick is flawless.

 

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Doug:
Ah, the all seeing eye of HDTV. Wait 'til you turn on to that shit, dude. I lost Cameron acne scarred Diaz to the pore gazing hitech idiot box. [Laughs]

 

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Mike:
Fuck, technology always has it's price, eh? But speaking of acne scarring, you going to check out that new Bukowski documentary?

 

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Doug:
Bukowski? Nevah fucking heard of him. Who'd he play for?

 

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Mike:
[To himself] The way to end a strip like this is to become suddenly quiet …

 

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Curse of the Enron

The American beat up on the Nationals in the 2004 All Star Game …

Bill:
Being a vindictive, scurrilous, sonavabitch, seeing Roger Clemens go down in flames gives me great pleasure.

 

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Susan:
Yeah, Rocket Rog, how's that want to be 10 minutes from the ballpark, near my wife and kids, play for my hometown fans load of bullshit working out for you?

 

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Bill:
Let me say it real slowly for enjoyment: Six runs on five hits in his one inning of work, home runs to Ramirez and Alfonso Soriano …

 

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Susan:
The Curly Haired Boyfriend jokingly wonders if Clemens' arch enemy Piazza wasn't tipping the pitches from behind the mask.

 

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Bill:
For fuck's sake, the Shankette, of all people, should see a curse at work here … Ken Lay of Enron got that ballpark built on a hill of lies, fucking his employees over and pissing away their 401K's … Disingenuous, greedy, prick …

 

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Susan:
Sort of like Clemens saying all those years that it isn't about the money, all that rubbing the ass of the Babe statue before games, all that fraudulent farewell tour last season?

 

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Bill:
Abso-fucking-lutely. You can call it Minute Maid Field or Marry Poppins Park but it ain't gonna change a frickin' thing. It's a mofo black hole of bad karma. The Houston club will be 20 and a half out by Labor Day. Mark my words.

 

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Susan:
If so, what if Clemens asks out to return to the Bronx?

 

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Bill:
Whatev. Instant karma's already caught up to him. He's done. If Clemens suits up in pinstripes this year, it'll be the Yankees undoing. I shit you not. I'm so confident I actually want it to happen. [Laughs]

 

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Susan:
Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. … Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

 

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All Star Break, Day 2

The Devil will find work for idle hands to do …

Mike:
Know what I hate most about the All Star Break?

 

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Doug:
The urge to belong?

 

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Mike:
No the … wait a second … the urge to belong … You hate the All Star break because of an "urge to belong?" What the fuck is up with that?

 

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Doug:
Yeah, I'm so jealous when the All Star players are all lovey dovey and nonchalant with each other … the way they butt slap in that knowing way. I always look away as if I didn't care, as if their easy affection with one another was the last thing on my mind. But why do I yearn so persistently to be included?

 

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Mike:
Er … probably has something to do with your controlling, dominant mother and a lack of breast feeding as an infant. [Laughs]

 

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Doug:
Hey, I'm secure in my mofo manhood. [Laughs] So what's your All Star beef, besides the boredom it brings?

 

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Mike:
It's when I hear fucks like Jon Miller on NPR pontificating and playing bullshit bingo about the essence of the game or their who the fuck cares what you think Jon Miller? mid season recaps.

 

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Doug:
Well, what the fuck do you expect listening to National Palestine Radio? [Laughs] That effete shit will poison your fucking mind. Next you'll be telling me how a nice Merlot can be compared to the fluidity of a pitcher’s mechanics and motion for fuck's sake.

 

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Mike:
Don't make me come over and beat your heteroclite fucking ass. I love NPR.

 

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Doug:
As much a John Kerry loves his fave Red Sox player Manny Ortiz? [Laughs]

 

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Mike:
A simple slip up. It's not like he said winning the World Series was going to be a cake walk or anything or showed up wearing a Red Sox uniform beneath a banner proclaiming "Mission Accomplished!" right? … [Laughs]

 

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Doug:
Yeah, yeah. Your point is motherfucking well taken … But Jenna Bush is still hot regardless.

 

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Help Wanted: Lip Reader

The Sox lose 6-5 the final game with the Rangers , but going into the All Star Break their are reasons for optimism …

Bill:
Tough loss yesterday … really wanted the back to back sweep going into the All Star Break, still I'll take 5 of 6 home stand.

 

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Doug:
There's a dude at SoSH who lays out how 99 wins seems entirely fucking plausible.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, but what that forgets is it'd be just our fucking luck that this year it takes 100 wins to take the wildcard. [Laughs]

 

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Doug:
Meanwhile, with the All Star Break we've got three days to work ourselves into a typical maniacal tizzy over motherfucking minutia. [Laughs]

 

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Bill:
Yeah, I can't believe the Dawg isn't yet all over this Manny needs to rest his hammy story.

 

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Doug:
You know Manny hasn't started the final game before the break the last three years?

 

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Bill:
What do you think Schilling was saying to Manny in that pregame finger wag in the outfield NESN caught on tape?

 

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Doug:
That's the bad ass burning question. Cafardo writes that "we'll never know what was being said unless we hire a lip-reader."

 

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Bill:
Yeah, heaven fucking forbid a major newspaper actually does something innovative, some good old raking of the muck to bring us the news.

 

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Doug:
Shit yeah. Where's the stinking tabloids when you motherfucking need 'em?

 

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Bill:
No shit. Why the fuck is it easier to find out how Britney Spears clips her skanky bush than it is to find out what the fuck Schilling said to Manny? Where's our mofo Woodward? Where's our mofo Bernstein?

 

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Doug:
Yeah, I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore. [Laughs]

 

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