Bill: That 6 pass, 94-yadd drive to staht the game was the best thing I've seen since the days of the Bloody Sock.
Doug: Watching Brady move the ball like that is like watching porn. You know it's going to end with a money shot in the endzone, but you're mesmerized by the rhythmic, all business action like you're seeing it for the first time in your life.
Bill: So Cafardo writes, "If Theo Epstein or Brian Cashman tried to parade a rostah like the Cardinals' onto the field in Boston or New York, they'd probably be run out of town."
Mike: Well, considering the World Series ratings, I've got a feeling it's more than just Boston and New York fans who dig rostahs made up of players whom, you know, you've actually heard of.
Bill: Baseball's lucky it's on Fox, because that eliminates any chance it'd evah have to go up against American Idol.
Mike: Seriously, because let's face it, America's "National Pastime" is watching talent shows on TV.
Bill: Speaking of people you've never heard of getting into the spotlight, who the frig is Tony Romo? Did you see that last night?
Mike: Poor Drew Bledsoe. Once again he's benched, and once again his aftahthought replacement comes out and plays like the second coming of Johnny Unitas.
Bill: You gotta figya Bledsoe must have done something heinous in a previous life, because kahma is pimp slapping the shit out of him in this one.
Oh, but before we get started, by all means let's pause for a nanosecond to honor Derek Jeter for his great individual achievement in winning the 2006 Hank Aaron Award. It's an honor just to be permitted to acknowledge the honor.
Doug: Argh, this day is not stahting out too good at all … I got out of bed this morning and I was stumbling around, tripping ovah myself, my mind all fuzzy and muted and I was all 'WTF! I've been possessed by Drew Bledsoe.'
Mike: Look we know that the sci-fi audience is like 95% male. And we can presume from anecdotal evidence that one of the draws to sci-fi for guys is the babalicious factor. Whether it's ChipSix, Inara from Firefly, the nympho Yeoman Rand from STOS, every dude has his fave sci-fi fantasy chick or two.
Mike: Exactly! So why the frig hasn't anyone capitalized on this obvious mahket demand by creating a sci-fi themed strip club?
Doug: Dude!
Mike: But wait I'm just getting stahted. Not just any run of the mill pole joint reeking of cheap perfume and urinal cakes, no, I'm talking a first-class place, say in Vegas, and you hiah on real pros, women who not only have been to strippah school but also are wannabe screen stahlets with a modicum of talent, you see?
Doug: [makes communicator sound] My frequencies are open.
Mike: So you audition the prospective talent by asking them to pick a charactah from the pantheon of sci-fi booty and become that persona on stage.
Mike: Yeah, so picture it, here comes, say, Deanna Troi in her funky accent, "I'm sensing you're very attracted to me and desire a lap dance on the observation deck."
Bill: I'm repeating myself but each week of Season 3 of Lost more and more resembles the second half of season '06 for the Red Sox …
Bill: I mean the story is going nowhere, there's no sense of momentum, the plot is full of holes and yet, and yet, I continue to watch for reasons unknown.
Tara: Yeah, well, at least with the '06 Red Sox you knew it'd be over at game 162, unlike Lost where there is no end in sight.
Bill: I remembah how when I first read they were going to split this season in two and only do 6 episodes in the first paht, I was all "6 episodes? Man, I'm going to be jonesing for more."
Bill: Now, howevah, it feels as if I've already watched 60 episodes so fah.
Tara: Absolutely. And of those 60 hours 40 were commercials. I think I tore my rotator cuff last night from repeatedly reaching for the remote to fast-forward thru the ads.
Bill: So let me get this straight: The Othahs have a frickin submarine?
Tara: Yeah, I heard the reference to the sub and I was like, what the hell, are the Others on Steinbrenner's payroll or what?
Bill: So the Othahs have subs, have aquariums, have fully-equipped surgery facilities, have close-circuit TV's and cameras, but, alas, they are totally impotent and infertile when it comes to making babies.
Tara: When you put it that way, it really does seem like the Others are the Yankees of desert island dwellers — A bunch of high dollar resources lavished on aging thugs who really believe they are on some higher plane of existence yet, in the end, just can't produce.
Lisa the Temp: As a temporary worker, one of the things I like to do for a company as a way of demonstrating what a valuable asset I'd be as a full-time regular employee is design corporate motivational posters during my down time between tasks.
Lisa the Temp: Well, Lisa likes to keep it reals. I mean, c'mon people, how many crappy pictures of tigers and seagulls and golf courses can a person take?
Lisa the Temp: Because, really, if you don't have determination, if you don't believe in yourself, then who? who? (not me) is going to believe in you?
Lisa the Temp: Yeah, that's right. And now that you're feeling so inspired, you know, feeling like a midget packing sequoia wood, I've got a little task for you.
Lisa the Temp: Hey, you wanna hang with Lisa the Temp, you need to pay the price.
Lisa the Temp: So hustle your sorry goofing off while at work asses over to Duffy's Cliff and submit at least one term to the Soxicon.
Two guys walking, short guy speaks: Oh, thatNelson. Well, that sucks.
Two guys walking, tall guy speaks: Yep.
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, short guy speaks: In the swamp in secluded recesses, a shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.
Two guys walking, tall guy speaks: Victorious song, death's outlet song, yet varying ever-altering song, as low and wailing, yet clear the notes, rising and falling, flooding the night, Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and yet again bursting with joy …
Doug: OK, so if one more person in this office asks me whom I'm rooting for in the World Series I'm going go all Voldemort on their asses.
Doug: I mean how many times do I have to say it? I root for the Boston Red Sox, mmm-kay? For me the othah teams exist solely as foils for the home townies.
Bill: Yeah, well, what if that hot vegan chick in HR asks you?
Doug: Well, alright, you got me. If Megan the Vegan from the Human Hawt Resources Department asks me I'm going to say, "Until baseball playahs staht using pleathah gloves instead of being duplicitous in the senseless murdah of innocents for their hides, I spit in the general direction of all things baseball … Hey, wanna go grab a soy latte and a gluten free muffin and talk about PETA?"
Bill: Wait a second, are you telling me that more and more people are unwilling to pay to get ink stained fingers and get verbally pissed on by guys like Dan Shaughnessy?
Doug: Ain't the free market a bitch?
Bill: So if a tree falls in the forest and gets turned into the Boston Globe which nobody reads, does it, the tree, make a sound?
Bill: Meanwhile, I'm still trying to get my head around an implosion that 1) caused the hatch to blow upward and outward 2) sent Mr. Eko to clan of the cave bear and 3) blew off all of Desmond's clothes.
Tara: And why would the ground be all cauterized like that? Unless, of course, it wasn't caused by Desmond pushing the so-called "fail safe" button but by a Daisy Cutter dropped by the ultra-secret shadow military.
Bill: Yeah, and isn't it curious that there just happened to be no Jews in the hatch when it was "disappeared"?
Tara: The Zionists were totally tipped off by Mossad.
Bill: The whole thing is part a massive disinformation campaign by Haliburton.
Tara: Absolutely. I mean look at the polar bear. Everyone is wondering "How did a polar bear get to the tropics?" But wake up, Sheeple. That's what the Rumsfeld/Cheney oil hegemony cabal want you to think.
Bill: Seriously, instead the Sheeple should be seeking out the inconvenient truth and asking "How did the tropics get to the polar bear?"
Sometimes your humble author (and by humble I mean, of course, an egotistical twat who truly believes that you, dear readers, really give a shit one way or the other) just needs a day off …
Lisa the Temp: No Soxaholix today. Where are they? Well, rumor has it they went to Zambia to grab a couple kids.
Mike: So the Sox hired a new pitching coach … You worried at all about his lack of big league coaching experience? I mean he's more of a front office kind of guy.
Doug: Nuke shmoock. I'm talking about how ChipSix has gone from the being the sexiest woman in all of made-for-TV scifi evah to being at times downright scary in season 3.
Mike: Isn't she supposed to be scary? She's a Cylon, right?
Doug: I don't mean scary as in "Whoo, this cybernetic slut will crack my nuts with her ass muscles!" I mean scary as in she's caught a wicked case of the fug. Which, being that she is Cylon, shouldn't be happening. It's ruining the entire story arc fantasy for me.
Mike: But didn't I read that Six had got consciousness or something? Maybe with that comes human mortality?
Doug: Whatevah. If I wanted to sita and watch a bitch ravaged by time, I'd go to a Madonna concert, OK?
Steve: So if Fox fired Steve Lyons for "habla'ing" something stupid, will they please also fire Tim McCarver for, you know, being the embodiment of stupid?
Mike: Guess they'd had enough of Psycho and were just waiting for him to say something objectionable no matter how much of a stretch.
Steve: I'm not even sure exactly what was the so-called offensive part. The "butchering" of Spanish or his suggesting that Piniella took his wallet and since Piniella is Hispanic (who the frig knew?) and that, in the logic of the politically correct universe, implies Lyons was saying all Hispanics are thieves?
Mike: And if you're going to fiah Lyons, why not Piniella as well for using the "like finding a wallet" metaphor in the first place?
Steve: Meanwhile, how many more postseason series losses by the A's do we have to endure before they finally stop using the adjective "successful" to describe Beane and Oakland?
Mike: Yeah, I mean it's great and all that they play Moneyball and make the playoffs every year blah blah blah fishbiscuit, but c'mon, it's time to raise the bah a bit.
Mike: I love it when Beane apologists point to the Red Sox demise in '06 as evidence that they've somehow plugged in to the baseball Rosetta Stone as, last time I checked but I could be mistaken, the Red Sox have actually won a pennant in the past 8 years.
Steve: Well, you know, winning is way the fuck overrated when compared to "evolution as status quo."
Mike: I don't even know what the frig that means.
Steve: Me either. All I know is if Nature evolved as slowly as the A's, we'd still be dragging our knuckles when we walk.
So where did you first encounter the Lost and Red Sox connection? Yeah, that's right, people, H.B.'s rocking the hatch mic …
Bill: Jesus H. Bearded Prophet, who the hell knew The Othahs were Soxaholix?
Tara: I just hope Benry Gale Linus got expressed written consent from the commissioner of Major League Baseball before replaying the Foulke to Minky snippet for Jack.
Bill: Are you kidding me? Benry is hahdcore. He's got the World Series box set and the NESN Faith Rewarded. Dude dialed up Amazon as soon as he escaped from the Swan hatch.
Tara: So does this mean The Others really are the "good guys" as they've been saying?
Bill: Well, all I know is Kate, despite looking totally raunchified in that chain gang dress, is a Skankees fan.
Tara: Get out!
Bill: Look, you know how when Sawyer went all fists of fury and Kate just stood there? Didn't that seem odd for her charactah?
Tara: Totally. I we've seen the bitch go all Lara Croft on those dudes in the bank and she pimp slapped a federal marshall to boot.
Bill: Absolutely. Well, the way I see, after Benry fed her those strawberries on the beach, he took her back to his crib and made her watch the entire '04 playoff run simultaneously on his bitchin' multi-monitor setup.
Bill: So now Kate is like every other mofo Yankees fan was that November: in a state of shock and awe.
Tara: Now I know why I didn't trust freckle face from the start. I bet she's got a pink Yankees cap in her luggage.
Bill: Meanwhile, I guess we now know why in two wars we never once heard any mention of the Iraqi navy.
Tara: Yeah, dessert dwellers and boats are just not a good mix.
Bill: Leaving that boat unprotected and losing it was one of the lamest Lostaway actions yet.
Tara: Memo to Sayid: boats are about as hard to come by as starting pitching. You can never have too much of either.
Bill: Yeah, just like Theo, he's going to have to learn that lesson the hahd way.
Tara: Yeah, and just like the '06 Red Sox, all the Lostaways hopes rest on the shoulders of a big black man swinging his righteous Jesus stick.
Mike: "The Yankees and their fans are never eliminated as an afterthought. They are always taken down in a public execution. They are led to the gallows to the raucous cheers of the gathered crowds. They are read the charges of high crimes and misdemeanors against them, and they are always the same. Their misdemeanor? Gluttony. Their high crime? Nobility. And then they are very publicly hanged while the throngs roar with approval. The masses will not be denied their opportunity to watch the mighty fall. And that’s okay. It’s part of what we Yankee fans sign up for. Some of us make a choice. Some of us are born into it. But all of us wouldn’t trade it for the world."
Susan/Circle: Hmmm, while the premise suggests it's author is totally delusional, probably as the result of great grief I'd imagine, I must admit that's the some fine ass writing.
Mike: You know, is it me, or are Yankees fans starting to sound more like Red Sox fans?
Bill: Yep, and did the Yankees evah come out and show exactly what they're are about as a team and have been about for years now: The shiznit choke jobbahs.
Doug: Absolutely. The Yankees are already wound up tightah than Kim Jong Il so, I got it, let's bring in the bat shitiest of all the bat shit managahs to, you know, chill things the fuck out.
Bill: Meanwhile, memo to Theo: Just because the Yankees crapped in their pinstripes again doesn't mean you're off the hook for your evah growing oeuvre of managerial brainfahts, mmm-kay?
Susan: And when the Boss says of A-Rod's performance, "I didn't like him that well," he's clearly forgetting that A-Rod is a first ballot Hall o'Famah.
Mike: If I'm a Detroit fan right now, I'm totally chewing on the tin foil because the dude is due. Know what I'm sayin'? Don't let those blue lips lull you into a sense of false complacency.
Susan: Not just that. I feel A-Rod's ultra top secret weapon coming on …
Mike: No, no, please don't even say it. We are not worthy …
Tara: Yeah, that's what the CHB gets for messing with Carl Everett. His dinosaur hating god will smite the boyfriend's saggy, freckled ass.
Bill: Meanwhile, back on Lost island we waited all fucking summah to learn, wait for it, that Henry Gale's real name is 'Ben.' W00T. Now that's some serious sonxabitchin secret revealing I tell you what.
Tara: And, OK, I know you white folk all look the same, but, c'mon, I can't be the only one who gets confused between Juliet, Penny, Sarah, Libby? WTF? Blond bitches all look identical.
Bill: Seriously, at one point I was like 'What's the Grey's Anatomy chick doing the island?'
Tara: Yes, there was a lot of show mixing. They open with the Others at Wysteria Lane then move to Kate winning Reward on Survivor.
Bill: I swear I can't take another Jackback.
Tara: Exactly how many Jackbacks does it take anyway to reveal that that character has exactly one dimension?
Bill: Honestly, I know clipart characters from MS Word that have more personality dimensions than Dr. Jack Shephard.
Tara: Can't wait for the next episode, of course.
Bill: Me neithah. I mean it's a lot like watching the Red Sox. Any given episode is infuriating, mind-boggling, stupid, exasperating, but, our asses are right back on the couch to watch the next one.
Mike: No, fucking way. But give me a rally with the Dropkick Murphys and I am fucking on board with this baseball playoff shit. Oh, yeah. Fuck I may even buy a Manny Ortez t-shirt.
Doug: Coolio. And I'll wear my Nomah shirt to the rally. He's my favorite Red Sox player. How's he fucking doing this year, anyway? Can't wait to see him at the rally. [Laughs]
Mike: Speaking of looks like the Cubbies may not make the post season. Chicago is one game behind idle Houston in the National League Wild Card race with three games to play. The Cubs will entertain the Eastern Division champion Atlanta Braves, starting Friday, while the 'Stros will play host to Colorado.
Doug: Good. I hope to fuck they lose all three. I hate the fucking Cubs.
Mike: No kidding. So many flakes talk about how cool it'd be if the Red Sox and Cubs faced off in the Serious.
Doug: Yeah, that's cool in the sense of "wouldn't it be fucking cool if an asteroid hit the earth and millions of sonszabitches caught on fire?" What the fuck?
Mike: No shit, nothing like the thought of Nomar hitting a game winning double off the Wall in the 9th inning of the 7th game to put the Cubs ahead to [imitating Bob Costas' voice] make one really appreciate the historicity of competitive sports between the two star crossed, cursed cities.
Doug: Yeah and I don't buy into that brotherhood crap between Cubs and Red Sox fans. Fuck 'em I say. I want my precious. Precious belongs to me. Precious, precious, precious!
