Power to the people

On a slow news day, The Soxaholix have to peel back the layers to reveal the big stories …

Bill:
You know, instead of calling in to talk radio or commenting on blogs and message boards, irate Red Sox fans should really take to the streets with a naked protest.

 

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Doug:
Oh, yes, absolutely. If I said it once, I've said it a thousand times: There is nothing like a naked protest to earnestly get one's point across and make the oppressahs bend to your will. I mean if a lezbo chick with big tits and a beard were holding a sign on Yawkey Way reading "Trade Manny!" what friggin choice would the front office have?

 

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Bill:
Would that really be enough or would you also need "inflated scrotum old hippie guy" to take to the Boston streets as well?

 

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Doug:
Christ, I'm so disappointed our old friend the inflated nut sack old dude. I mean he goes from this career peak to only this half-inflated crap?

 

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Bill:
Yeah, but the dude's a total gamah, though. I mean he's out there naked doing his paht even when he can't get a full nutsack inflation.

 

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Doug:
Manny take note: Does inflated nutsack old guy need a day off? No fucking way! Even the dreaded half-inflated scrotum won't deter him from helping his team of anarchists.

 

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Bill:
Fercrissakes our children need role models and shit.

 

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Find and sterilize imperfection

Doug:
Jeez, it's gonna be hahd for Manny to dig his way out of this one aftah the generally non-hysterical, as fah as media types go, Gordon Edes tosses raw meat to the Manny hatahs.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, when I read the line "the Red Sox left fielder once again disgraced himself and the uniform he wears," I had to double-check that the byline read "Edes" and not "Shaughnessy."

 

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Doug:
At the risk of being castigated as a "Manny apologist," I just can't get too hot and bothahd over this latest effigy burn.

 

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Mike:
There is a certain degree of monotony to the recurring theme: Manny is selfish. Manny is like a petulant teenager. Something must be done about Manny. Manny goes on an offensive tear. Manny hits a couple balls to Mahs. Manny is a hero. Manny takes day off. Manny is a losah. Burn Manny; he's a witch. Yawn …

 

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Doug:
And as for Manny holding the Red Sox "hostage," the last time I checked neithah Theo or Lucchino have been seen in orange jumpsuits kneeling in front of a black hooded freak wielding a machete.

 

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Mike:
You know, this is all going to be a moot point once the Japanese invent the android Major League ballplayah. Then everyone will finally be happy once we field a team with perfect, loyal, gamah automatons stripped entirely of any human frailty and oddity. Woo hoo.

 

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Doug:
Whoa, slow down dude. First let's perfect the "fully functional" hottie chick bot and only then move on to the replacement Manny droid.

 

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Mike:
Absolutely. Dirty, nasty, knee sock wearing bad girl robot bitches. Hell yeah.

 

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Doug:
Domo arigato, Miss Roboto. That's what I'm fucking talking about. Hot girl robot on girl robot action.

 

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Waking up is hard, so hard, to do

Bill:
Jesus Christ, anothah game like that and it won't be enough to chase the Xanax with a Jameson (or two), no, I'll need to staht crushing that shit and snorting it directly up my nose.

 

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Doug:
No joke. A normal person cannot be expected to face this shit on a regulah basis without a most focused and unabashed abuse of pharmaceuticals.

 

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Bill:
It's one thing to try and deal with the emotional trauma of watching Clement crumble down in a heap on linah straight to the brain, but then we have to face Chadford giving up a slammah to tie the game?

 

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Doug:
Yeah, that on top of a friggin heat wave … I'm watching this mind fuck from Tropicana feeling like a cup of soda that has been sitting — full — for too long. Watery, sides melting, barely able to be handled — but there, so very there, and simply demanding propah disposal.

 

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Bill:
But you know, of course, the team may have "found themselves" last night, you know, got the so-called wake up call.

 

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Doug:
Fercrissakes why do the Red Sox always have to act like they work for NASA — You know waiting until their shit totally blows up before fixing things?

 

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Bill:
Why in Christ didn't my baseball coaches tell me as a kid that the secret to success is to drag your ass for half the season and then, Lo!, seize on some arbitrary event as your "turning point"?

 

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Doug:
Absolutely. If only somebody had told me about this wake up call thingy, I coulda been a hot prospect, coulda been a contendah.

 

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The Devil (Ray) is in the details

Susan/Circle:
Jeez, I'm so friggin glad Lou Pinella "wouldn't buy the idea that Monday's 4-3 victory against the Red Sox had a 'playoff' feel to it."

 

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Mike:
Yeah, unlike the rest of Tampa Bay, Pinella actually has had some experience with baseball playoffs.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Hey, the D-Rays are only 8 and a half back now … maybe this year is their next year?

 

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Mike:
Well, could be … unlike the Red Sox, the Devil Rays actually seem capable of beating up on the other teams in the division. They've swept the Yankees. They've swept Baltimore …

 

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Susan:
Christ, how sick is it that I'm sitting here looking at the Tampa Bay Devil Rays with envy?

 

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Mike:
Ah, no sickah than my Cinderella story daydream in which the recently re-signed Rich Garces eats his way up from the low minors to the big club and becomes the bullpen saviour.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Get the fuck out, El Guapo is back?!

 

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Mike:
Hell yeah he is. Haven't you heard, in 2005 'old' is the new 'new'. How else do you explain Jane Fonda's anti-war vegetable oil powered bus tour?

 

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Susan/Circle:
It's 1969 all ovah again. Minus the sex orgies, of course, or rathah, one would hope. I mean the geriatric Barberella is wrinkle free, but you can't Botox a pussy as far as I know.

 

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Mike:
Eew! Disgusting mental image …

 

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Susan/Circle:
So if Garces does make a miraculous comeback, will the "El Guapo's Ghost" dude have to change the name of his blog to "El Guapo's Corporeal Omniprecence" or something?

 

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Trade Week Jittahs

Bill:
So we go on vacation with the Sox a half a game back and return from vacation in first by a game and a half … I'll take it.

 

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Doug:
Absolutely, and thank Christ I'm rested and ready to deal with what always seems to amount to the most nail biting week of the regular season: the final countdown to the trading deadline.

 

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Bill:
No kidding. And you know just because every major trade, like Nomah last yeah, has come out of the blue and not been forseen by the pundits, won't mean that I don't obsessively read every trade rumor out there in the media and the boards.

 

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Doug:
Last yeah at this time we knew the team wasn't World Series contendah ready and this yeah's no different.

 

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Bill:
They need another stahtah and a relievah.

 

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Doug:
But the Marlins have apparently narrowed their focus to the Chicago White Sox in discussions for A.J. Burnett …

 

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Bill:
Christ, that's what I hate about this time of yeah. On the one hand, I don't even know if Burnett is worth an Arroyo, yet on the othah hand, the thought of Burnett being dealt the the White Sox makes me go mental.

 

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Doug:
Meanwhile, now that Lance Armstrong has retiahd, can we go back to relegating cycling to the "who cares?" sports category where it belongs?

 

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Bill:
No shit. I mean sure Lance Ahmstrong has a haht one third lahgah than a typical human being, but, c'mon, does he have nads the size of Saturn like Bronson does?

 

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Doug:
Right, note to Phil Liggett: skelators in bright spandex going up a hill and then back down a hill (rinse lathah repeat) for 120 kilometers is, er, fucking dull already, OK?

 

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Bill:
And no offense but those guys are so doped a dude like Giambi could sniff their post race piss and reap a 3 homah aftahnoon from the fumes alone.

 

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Doug:
Ah, so that explains Juicy Jason's recent streak with the bat.

 

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Time for a short break

Parting words before a one week hiatus …

Hart Brachen (site author):
Kind of had to figure that things would go down as they did last night. The fates tend to be stingy with the heroics instilled upon one man.

 

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Hart Brachen (site author):
So in trying to get the taste of last night's sour debacle out of my mouth, I tune over to ESPN 2 to watch a tape delay game of the US women's national softball team facing Canada. I'm thinking the US hasn't lost an international game in 5 years, so I'll just sit back and watch them kick ass.

 

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Hart Brachen (site author):
Well, that didn't flippin' work out. Jeez. Guess I picked a good week to go on vacation after all. (But I don't begrude Francona for sending Schilling in. Life's a gamble.)

 

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Hart Brachen (site author):
See you back here no later than the 25th.

 

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Happy Bastille Day, Francophiles far and wide

Doug:
So the worst kept secret of the past week is secret no more: The Red Sox get anothah guy made famous in Moneyball.

 

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Bill:
I'm looking forward to seeing Chad Braford scrape his knuckles on the mound in relief, but pahdon me if I'm remain skeptical whether this will help the bullpen much.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, there's that niggling sense this was just a convenience trade. Epstein unloads the malcontent Payton and Beane, in turn, unloads a dead armed Bradfahd.

 

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Bill:
Shea Hillenbrand for B.K. Kim, anyone? It's déjà vu all ovah again.

 

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Doug:
Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

 

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Bill:
Hey, I know most of us would rathah eat spoiled brie than read Shaughnessy, but check this line he dishes on Slappy: "Alex Rodriguez could hit five homers and dominate the weekend -- or he could get caught shoplifting Winona Ryder DVDs at the Copley Mall."

 

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Doug:
Ah, that's a most beautiful connection between the mental image of Winona getting caught aftah stuffing that ginormous purse with the now infamous Slappy with purse photoshopped image.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, the Curly Haired Boyfriend can still work some magic every now and again.

 

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Doug:
Well, you know what they say about an infinite number of monkeys and the Bibliothèque nationale de France …

 

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Bill:
Absolutely. Hey, I've gotta run. Gotta get Lisa the Temp set up to covah things while we're on vacation.

 

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Doug:
Ah, vacation, all I ever wanted.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, I plan to get so retahted I could be on the Bobby Brown show.

 

And in his eyes two saphires blue

Susan/Circle:
Is it me or does Sheffield referring to A-Rod as "our jewel" sound, er, not quite right.

 

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Mike:
It's totally creepy yet, somehow, totally fitting.

 

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Susan/Circle:
It's like Sheffield is the big bro protecting his pretty 15 year old virgin sister or something.

 

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Mike:
"Don't worry a pretty little hair on your head, my precious jewel. If that stud Varitek lays a hand on you, I'll jack him up good, sweetie."

 

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Susan/Circle:
Christ, how friggin' sad is it that Slappy's own teammates think of him as a sissy?

 

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Mike:
Meanwhile, it's obvious Sheffield has some anger management issues to work out.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Absolutely. I think he needs a hobby to channel his energy. Something pleasant and relaxing.

 

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Mike:
True. Something soothing and lulling like creating car crash bonzai.

 

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Susan:
Without a doubt there is nothing quite the fuck like car crash bonzai to work through the resultant trauma of being pimp slapped by the Red Sox in last yeah's ALCS.

 

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Mike::
C'mon, Sheff, how about it? Grab hold of the sheahs and branch bendahs and let the emotional healing begin. If not for yourself, then for your teammates.

 

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You've got the look

Steve:
OK. I confess. I don't think I ever heard of Bobby Abreu until last night.

 

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Bill:
Don't sweat it. I can't name the teams in the other league, let alone the playahs.

 

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Steve:
Yeah, and not everyone can be known by 75 percent of the world like Johnny Damon.

 

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Bill:
Who knew that Johnny Jesus Damon is more populah than the other one, what's his name, the messiah, son of God healah of lepahs …?

 

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Steve:
If this keeps up they'll need to start calling the other guy Jesus Johnny Christ.

 

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Bill:
Get Mel Gibson's people on the phone, it's time for the sequel.

 

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Steve:
Blessed are the center fielders with meek throwing arms for they shall inherit the earth.

 

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Bill:
The similarities are uncanny. I mean Jesus the Christ saved a prostitute from a public stoning and Jesus the Damon saved Michelle Mangum from a life of …

 

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Steve:
Hey, careful, now, you don't want any legal action brought down on your freckled Irish ass.

 

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Bill:
What? What? I was going to say "saved from a life toiling for a talent scouting agency," you know? Jeez, The last thing I want to do is give credence to any of those libelous "former stripper" rumors running rampant. Despicable.

 

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Steve:
Absolutely. I mean it's not like talent scouting agencies rip people off by preying upon an individual's desire for attention or anything.

 

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Bill:
You know I've been scouted by a couple modeling talent agencies.

 

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Steve:
Jumpin' Johnny on a stick, no way, dude!

 

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Bill:
Yah-way. They said I have the perfect look to model a desktop publishing clip-aht charactah aftah.

 

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Steve:
Shit, man, you outta go for it. I mean the deposit is totally refundable and all …

 

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'SportsCenter with Staples?' (Staple this.)

Like in 2004, the Orioles continue to foil the Red Sox …

Mike:
Well, they say 2 out of 3 ain't bad, but 1 outta 4? Er, not so much.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, well, you know, you don't want to open up too lahge a lead in the AL East or anything. 8 game lead? 10 game lead? Who needs that when you can keep it close and exciting all season long?

 

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Mike:
Fuck yeah. I mean you wouldn't want Orioles fans to give up hope or anything. They need to know they're right there. Still in it despite losing their previous 5 series.

 

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Doug:
Absolutely. I so love going into the All Star Break knowing the Red Sox have "restored much of the Orioles' recently tattered confidence."

 

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Mike:
You know considering the Sox are in first with a bettah record than at this point last year and they got to this point without Curt Schilling, I don't know why I'm not happiah.

 

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Doug:
Same heah. Maybe has much to do with what Gammons calls the "inoperable, insubordinate and unacceptable ME attitude" that has publicly surfaced this past week and has been brewing all yeah?

 

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Mike:
Christ, I wanted to read Gammons' weekly column like I've done pretty much forevah but they've gone and made it subscriber only premium content.

 

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Doug:
You know, I don't mind at all paying to read Gammons, he's a Hall of Famah fercrissakes, but I've no interest in much else.

 

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Mike:
Worse, I was completely ready to shell out the $39.95 just to read Gammons until I saw that ESPN forces you to get the dead tree version of the crapfest known as "The Magazine," too.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, ESPN wants us to believe they're so hip with all that X Games crap, but then they still want to jam damn démodé papah and ink up our 21^st Century age of irony asses?

 

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Mike:
Woo hoo. I so can't wait to go to the mailbox to get my latest issue of week old sports news!

 

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Doug:
Right. And when you're done, you can just toss it out. Beautiful. I mean, it's not like we have a fucking trash problem or anything.

 

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