Better than seeing the first robin

Bill:
We're knee deep in blazing snow, and what is the harbinger of Spring we are most waiting for?

 

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Mike:
Is it the multiple dull drum of sap in empty pails?

 

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Bill:
Nope.

 

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Mike:
Is it the goat-footed baloonMan whistling far and wee?

 

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Bill:
No, sir, it is not.

 

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Mike:
Is it a Bird in Spring, which for myself doth Sing?

 

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Bill:
Not quite.

 

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Mike:
OK, then how about those pools that, though in forests, still reflect the total sky almost without defect?

 

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Bill:
Nice but you're still not there.

 

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Mike:
Well, then it must be that sometime between 1:30 and 2 p.m. today, the Sox’ equipment truck departs Fenway Park for Fort Myers, for the start of spring training.

 

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Bill:
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it's Truck Day!

 

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In honor of the unofficial holiday and spring harbinger known as "Truck Day," The Soxaholix present the first ever Truck Day commemorative apparel line …

Yes, the design is cheesy but the intent is earnest.

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Lack of Power

In the spirit of making the most out of what you have …

Hart Brachen (blog/strip author):
OK, Hart here, so last night I lost power at my humble abode for 6 hours or so, and this morning I have no internet connection from home forcing me to transmit this brief bit from one of Dick Cheney's secret bunkers. (Yeah, he added my retina scan to the entrance list and shit. Big fan of the strip and all.)

 

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Hart Brachen:
Meanwhile, I do believe our beloved, esoteric, unofficial fête known as "Truck Day" is to occur on this coming Monday, and, in honor of the occasion, I created a commemorative t-shirt that I may or may not choose to unveil and sell to you, the fickle public.

 

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Hart Brachen
See, it's like this: The design is, er, lacking. Let me put it this way, if the designs Chris and Emily create at The Red Seat are Major League quality, well, this one I did is Rookie Advanced short season at best.

 

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Hart Brachen:
I mean it's the kind of t-shirt you might see hanging at a Marlboro smokey, deep-fried-Oreo smelling, truck stop off I-95 somewhere in North Carolina hanging on a rack between the Dale Earnhardt and "These Colors Don't Run" t-shirts.

 

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Hart Brachen:
With that said, it's not nearly as bad as, say, the typical Olympics Mascot, so who knows. We'll see how I feel on Monday.

 

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Hart Brachen:
Meanwhile, if you're going through Soxaholix withdrawal, I suggest revisiting one of my personal faves: "How long you been a Yankees fan?"

 

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Oh, hello, Vincent

Bill:
Despite NBC's attempts otherwise, count me among those who will be referring to the host city of the Winter Olympics as Turin and not Torino.

 

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Tara:
And count me among those who is uncomfortable with the notion of playing a winter sport on the hallowed grounds of summer worship.

 

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Bill:
I know, how long before it's "Fenway Monstah Truck Day"?

 

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Tara:
Hey, nice gesture by Damon, huh, taking out that one-page Globe ad ala Bledsoe?

 

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Bill:
Yeah, but don't you think the timing is a bit off? I mean why now rather than right after he signed with the team that must not be named?

 

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Tara:
Good point. Maybe this is paht of a "Long Con"

 

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Bill:
Ah, not the best episode of Lost evah, but a damn fine one.

 

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Tara:
Despite his despicable qualities as a human being, I'm totally ready to let Sawyer be in charge of things for awhile. I mean he can't be any worse in the leadership role than Locke and Jack.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, Locke and Jack are about as good as running the island as Beattie and Bowden are to running a ballclub.

 

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Tara:
And did you love the Revenge of the Sith, Darth Hoodie transformation of Charlie?

 

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Bill:
Absolutely, as well as the return of Sayid from mourning.

 

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Tara:
I need more Eko and more Sayid.

 

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Bill:
Of course, this being Lost, we probably won't see Sawyer, Eko, or Sayid for the next 3 episodes but are instead treated to backfill stories on Libby or Gerome and Rose.

 

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Tara:
I'm surprised we haven't gotten a distracting flashback on Vincent the dog.

 

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Bill:
Heh, Vincent. If you see him run out of the jungle and then turn around and run back in, you know you're totally hosed.

 

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And I think it's gonna be a long long time . . .

Bill:
I don't mean to sound ovahly hahsh, except that maybe I do, but isn't this whole Britney Spears endangering her baby story an example of Darwinism in action?

 

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Bill:
I mean instead of sending out child protective services, shouldn't we, you know, let nature take its course for the sake of the ovahall integrity of the collective gene pool?

 

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Mike:
Aw, c'mon, dude. The little Spears spawn could grow up to find a cure for cancah or something.

 

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Bill:
Yes, in theory. But why do I have the feeling the adult Sean Preston will be more like this guy who thought it'd be a brilliant idea to fill a balloon with welding gas and take it to a Super Bowl pahty?

 

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Mike:
Speaking of things that go BOOM, you hear the Sox are trying to woo The Rocket to return to the Fens?

 

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Bill:
I think a more apt transition would be "Speaking of stupid rednecks …"

 

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Mike:
Still holding a grudge, eh? I'm with Tom Werner on this one. Make the video and do what it takes to bring Rogah back. It'd be a great story.

 

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Bill:
Look, Werner's been a Red Sox fan for what, 4 years? He has no clue what it feels like to get pissed on by Rogah Clemens. As a fan, there are just some things I won't evah forgive. Clemens is dead to me. Now and forevah.

 

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Mike:
Hey, you could as easily argue that it was the Red Sox front office that dissed Clemens not the other way around. Besides, past history aside, Clemens is one of the premier pitchers in the League.

 

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Bill:
Really? If you ask me, Clemens was mediocre in his final years in the AL East. He was only given new life by pitching in much easier NL. And even then, he broke down last season and was useless for the Astros in the postseason.

 

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Mike:
Dude, forget the story, forget the money, forget the private jet and focus on this: Roger Clemens would be replacing Bronson Arroyo in the rotation. If you don't think Roger Clemens wins more games than Arroyo, you need your head examined.

 

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Bill:
Call the head shrinks then. I don't want Clemens setting foot on the Fenway rubbah unless it's as an opposing pitchah getting bitch slapped by Manny Ortez and company.

 

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Putting the U in Ululate

Susan/Circle:
So this cartoon thing has gotten totally out of hand … Now the Iranians are sponsoring a contest for the "best" Holocaust cartoon? Jumpin' Jeebus.

 

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Mike:
Wait a second, I thought the Iranians didn't believe the Holocaust evah took place? I'm confused.

 

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Susan/Circle:
All I know is Johnny Damon is lucky he resembled the bearded Jesus and not the bearded Mohammed. That would have caused one fuck of a shit storm.

 

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Mike:
Hmmm … "Johnny Mohammed" has sort of a ring to it. Heh. But he'd need to change his tagline, of course …

 

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Mike:
Instead of "We're a bunch of idiots!" it'd be "You're a bunch of infidels!"

 

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Susan/Circle:
I'm overcome with a sudden urge to ululate.

 

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Mike:
You know I'm surprised the whole ululating thing has nevah caught on with sports fans. That sound is a total mind fuck. I mean think about it. Bottom of the 9th, pressure situation, need just one more out with the other team's sluggah confidently striding to the plate … And all of a sudden 35 thousand fans begin to ululate in unison!

 

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Susan/Circle:
Somewhere Alexander Enmanuel Rodriguez just pissed himself.

 

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Having it my way

Because when there ain't jack going on in the baseball world, we have to talk about something …

Bill:
Man, you know I'm a really big fan of "The King" commercials, so I was really, really looking forwahd to Burger King's 60-second Super Bowl spot … But I was totally underwhelmed with The Whoppahrettes.

 

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Doug:
Ah, c'mon, dude, those vegetable chicks were friggin' hot. Check out the onions, man, that's a piece of ass that'll bring tears to your eyes.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, the costumes were clevah, I'll grant that, but if you're going to veer away from the masked King in odd situations artifice, you can't have your anthropomorphic vegetables undercutting the already established mythology of the King.

 

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Doug:
Ohmigod, Bill, aftah all these years of Red Sox haht ache, you've finally fucking lost your mahbles ovah a BK commercial?

 

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Bill:
No, no, look. In all the King commercials we, the viewah, know The King's a freak, right? But the King doesn't think he is at all. No, he thinks he's the nads, you know, and he'll do anything, run a touchdown, appeah bearing sandwich on a high rise girdah, bring you breakfast in bed, anything because he's the King.

 

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Bill:
But when The Whoppahrettes sing their song, if you listen closely, you'll actually hear them refer to the King as "freaky" in a disparaging mannah. So if the pickles, the lettuce, the King's subjects, if you will, those at the very innah sanctum of the Burgah Kingdom think the King is kind of a joke, what is that saying about their self-sacrifice to the Whoppah consumah?

 

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Bill:
I mean aftah seeing this commercial, when I now hold a Whoppah in my hands, rathah than thinking positively about the image of the King, I'm thinking, shit, I've been duped. The King isn't freaky in a cool sort of way, he's just plain freaky, the Pickle chick said so.

 

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Doug:
But, dude, that's where you're totally wrong. What makes the Whoppahrettes self-assembly of and self-sacrifice to the Whoppah so noble is that they aren't doing it for the King — they're doing it for the highah good. The King doesn't command them to this fate. No, the Pickles, the Buns, the Onions, they choose this sacrifice of their own free will. And by doing so, they consecrate the holiness of the Whoppah.

 

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Bill:
Jesus H. Mohammed, I didn't look at it that way. I think you're onto something.

 

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Doug:
Dude, there's more to my 12 year Catholic school education than fantasizing about chicks in matching plaid skirts and knee socks, you know.

 

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Doug:
Hey, did you see that Gammons sent a shout out to baseball bloggahs in his latest Insidah piece?

 

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Bill:
Yeah, but yet again it's the stat heads who get all the attention.

 

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Doug:
Well maybe if we spent a bit less time deconstructing commercials and a little more time on VORP, Gammo would show us the love.

 

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Leonardo, Michelangelo, Lucchino

Susan/Circle:
Man, people say Red Sox fans are insane, but we're not even in the same ballpahk with Disneyland fans in Hong Kong.

 

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Mike:
So how's that work exactly? I mean you toss your kid ovah the fence and then what? Talk about a plan that lacks an "exit strategy."

 

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Susan/Circle:
Meanwhile, I still can't figyah out the public's obsession with the InstaPudnut. Now he's got a best selling book, too? Politics aside, the guy is like the worst bloggah on the planet.

 

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Mike:
I wondah if he writes like he blogs, you know …
"Chapter 1 — Heh. Indeed. Chapter 2 — Update: Hmmm. Chapter 3 — This is just plain scary. Chapter 4 — More here."

 

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Susan/Circle:
OK, I'm so relieved that finally the Red Sox have chosen an official distributah of plumbing, heating, HVAC, pipe-valves-fittings supplies.

 

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Mike:
Oh, absolutely. As a Red Sox fan, it's very important to me to choose duct work that carries the imprimitur of Larry Lucchino.

 

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Susan/Circle:
And here I thought I was the luckiest bitch in the world knowing that L-squared is a "baseball man," but now we discovah that he's also the chair of the Red Sox art committee. Is there no uppah limit to this man's skill set?

 

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Mike:
The dude is truly the modern embodiment of a Renaissance Man. Frankly, his talent frightens me.

 

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It's Hard out Here for a Pimp

Lisa the Temp:
Hi, Lisa the Temp here to tell you The Soxaholix are taking the day off in order to track down their identities.

 

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Lisa the Temp:
So did you see your former cult hero Johnny Damon got himself a new ride?

 

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Lisa the Temp:
A Ferrari is nice and all, but if Johnny really wants to some A-List celebrity athlete street cred, he's got to crunk the fur action.

 

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Lisa the Temp:
I mean Johnny already has the ho part covered.

 

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(untitled)

Bill:
If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times: Don't wank and drive. Jeez.

 

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Doug:
Absolutely. It's that sort of irresponsible behavior that gives wankahs everywhere a bad name.

 

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Bill:
Meanwhile, just how did we get along before the era of the digital camera and the internet?

 

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Doug:
And don't forget to give props to the too easily taken for granted wondahs of IM and copy/paste.

 

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Bill:
On a more serious topic, you've gotta love this story on Tommy Hahpah.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, it's fun to give the front office and ownahship shit about things like Theogate, but we are lucky to be rid of the alcoholic racists who ran the show all those years.

 

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Bill:
Now if we can sweep up the lingahring detritus made up of guys like Shaughnessy, we'll truly have turned a page into a new Red Sox era.

 

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