Hey now, don't that make you feel a whole lot better?

Doug:
You know what's one  of the greatest things about being us? If the Red Sox entah the realm of crapitude, as they did this past season, we only need wait for the Pats to pick us right back up.

 

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Bill:
Seriously, aftah that performance last night I'm happiah than Randy Johnson withholding a child support check.

 

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Doug:
Are you kidding me? I'm happiah than Cahl Monday on library duty.

 

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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.

 

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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.

 

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Bill:
What an offensive explosion. 430 yahds and 25 first downs. Mercy.

 

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Doug:
Benjamin Watson, Reche Caldwell, Doug Gabriel, Laurence Maroney, Troy Brown, Corey Dillon, David Thomas, Chad Jackson, Jabner Gaffney and Faulk.

 

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Bill:
They're here. They're austere. Get used to it.

 

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Doug:
Bring on the slit eyed hillbilly with the ginormous helmet.

 

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Maybe they should just let people vote on who deserves to win a ballgame?

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."

 

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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.

 

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Bill:
Lowest rated World Series evah.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, more people watched Dancing with D-List Stars.

 

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Bill:
Baseball's lucky it's on Fox, because that eliminates any chance it'd evah have to go up against American Idol.

 

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Mike:
Seriously, because let's face it, America's "National Pastime" is watching talent shows on TV.

 

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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?

 

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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.

 

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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.

 

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And the less attractive could be Klingons or Ferengi

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.'

 

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Mike:
Scary. But here's something besides a dose of Tom Brady to shake the stuck in the pocket Drews away … Your rant the other day about ChipSix on BSG got me to thinking.

 

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Doug:
Uh-huh …

 

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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.

 

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Doug:
Or a couple dozen.

 

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Mike:
Exactly! So why the frig hasn't anyone capitalized on this obvious mahket demand by creating a sci-fi themed strip club?

 

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Doug:
Dude!

 

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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?

 

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Doug:
[makes communicator sound] My frequencies are open.

 

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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.

 

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Doug:
Oh My Frickin Lords of Kobol!

 

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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."

 

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Doug:
How much!?!?!

 

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Mike:
"400 quatloos to get on the newcomah!"

 

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Doug:
Build it and we will come.

 

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Lostaholix (Every Man for Himself episode)

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.

 

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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.

 

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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.

 

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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.

 

---

Bill:
Othahs Su-uck. Clap. Clap Clap-clap-clap. Othahs Su-uck.

 

---

What's on your mind?

Bill:
So this latest Kinsey report concludes that sex is always on men's minds.

 

---

Bill:
However, as Soxaholix, we by nature always have the Red Sox on our minds. Does this mean we think about sex less?

 

---

Doug:
Hahdly. The conclusion to draw is that Red Sox fans just have a much lahgah brain capacity than your average person.

 

---

Doug:
For instance, right now I'm concurrently considering Daisuke Matsuzaka as a potential Red Sox tahget and I'm fantasizing about Megan the Vegan from HR.

 

---

Bill:
So regarding Matsuzaka, what's your take?

 

---

Doug:
Personally, I don't think the Red Sox will open the purse strings to sign him.

 

---

Bill:
Regarding Megan, is she in her skivvies in ol' man Scrivener's office?

 

---

Doug:
Wicked pissa.

 

---

Bill:
Boom chicka waa waaa …

 

---

Feeling Inspired

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:
See what I mean? See this is the kind of motivation I'm talking about, people.

 

---

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.

 

---

Lisa the Temp:
I know you can do it.

 

---

Sing on, sing on...

Two guys walking, tall guy speaks:
Well, if we needed any more evidence that it isn't 2004 anymore, the news of Nelson's passing should do it.

 

---

Two guys walking, short guy speaks:
Who?

 

---

Two guys walking, tall guy speaks:
Nelson de la Rosa. The little guy, smallest actor in history, Pedro's buddy, human good luck charm for the 2004 playoff run …

 

---

Two guys walking, short guy speaks:
Oh, that Nelson. 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 …

 

---

At the sound of the falling tree, it's 9:30

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:
'Atta boy.

 

---

Bill:
So I'm checking out the Boston Globe sports online this morning and this is the front page teasah line to Bob Ryan's latest: "Never before in baseball history has a pennant been decided by anyone named Yadier."

 

---

Bill:
Ooh, I hope I don't sprain my mouse clicky fingah as I rush to go read the entire column because I'm so enticed by the teasah. Not.

 

---

Doug:
Hey, now, cut the Globe some slack, they're going through some tough times: "The [revenue] declines are unprecedented at the Globe … the Sunday circulation has fallen 25% to about 600,000 from 811,000, while the industry's Sunday circulation has fallen 12% during the same time period."

 

---

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?

 

---

Lostaholix (Further Instructions episode)

Bill:
So who and the frig are the new dude and new chick on Lostaway Beach?

 

---

Tara:
Yeah, don't you hate it when fictional serializations bring in new characters without any exposition and background whatsoever?

 

---

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?"

 

---

Tara:
Two words, Sheeple: arctic drilling.

 

---

Living in a material world [material]

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.

 

---

Lisa the Temp:
Really, everybody's doing it. Adopting an African orphan is this year's Ugh boot.

 

---

Lisa the Temp:
And, no, I'm not taking off this jacket.

 

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