Mike:
The OctoBitch in a porn? Jeez, guy, that is whacked thinking even for you.
Doug:
I mean think about it — doorbell rings and it's … The artificial insemination doc.
Doug:
Or there's a knock on the door and it's the dude from the diapah service. No, wait, 8 kids, let's make that 3 strapping dudes from the diaphah service.
Doug:
Or how 'bout this — Sound of door chime. Cut to an Australian on the doorstep with a goat … and a bottle of Sriracha.
Al:
Dude! I like it.
Doug:
It's like this — An artist has to aim higher than morality, exist beyond parochial conventions of right and wrong, sacred and profane.
Doug:
You know aht for aht's sake and all that.
Mike:
Speaking of aht, there *was* a grapefruit game last night.
Mike:
And the Bard, well, he "was as
constant
as the norther star."
Al:
Ah, but remembah, "All that glisters is not gold."
Your omniscient author in absentia:
As I mentioned in the comments a couple weeks back, my day job underwent a reorg and now the London office runs the whole operation.
Consequently, my new Master and Commander will be here in the U.S. most of the week for an inspection. This means I need to come in extra early to get the H.M.S. Bounty swabbed and rigged for sailing into uncharted waters and that will cut into my normal strip writing time.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
So I'll see you back here on Friday, perhaps sooner.
Doug:
Whoa, wait a second. I thought you libs were all in favah of "spreading the wealth around"? Don't you have any compassion for the poor, downtrodden, victims of the small mahket?
Bill:
Settle down Joe the Plumbah. Artificially supressing playah salaries so the ownahs can realize more profits is hahdly a
Robin Hood redistribution scheme.
Doug:
It all sounds like socialism to me.
Bill:
Don't make me come ovah there and go all
Travis the Chimp
on your ass, mmm-kay?
Doug:
Hey, I heard Travis was a
perfectly respectable chimp
until his cousin the baboon stahted shooting him up with 'roids.
Bill:
You know where that lady went wrong though?
Doug:
You means besides friggin' living with a 200lb chimpanzee, feeding him steak and lobstah, letting him drive a cah and giving him Xanax? No, tell me …
Bill:
It's like this — When you have a 200lb chimp with a
history of violence, then only invite a friend ovah to visit if the friend's name is Ditka.
Doug:
But seriously. Who the frig lives with a chimp anyway?
Bill:
Oh, I dunno, I don't think it's that ridiculous. I mean
Michelle Damon
seems to manage it just fine.
Doug:
Hell, yeah. Who can evah forget him
saying
"I am The Can, and I am going to come right at you with my best shit, and if you can hit it, I want to see how far Bo Jackson can hit The Oil Can."
Doug:
And then Bo Jackson taking Can's first pitch 515 feet ovah straight away centah.
Al:
Isn't this like hearing how some 80s band is now playing at the county fair in front of 50 fahmahs in overalls?
Mike:
Hey now, guy, you've gotta respect the aging rockahs *and* the aging ball playahs like Can who are willing to risk embarrassment and will play for nothing simply for the the chance to play.
Al:
Yeah, when you put it that way. I wish I was that passionate about something that I'd be willing to do it forevah and for nothing.
Doug:
But you are.
Al:
I appreciate your new found élan here, Doug, but I confess I don't have much love for being a mid-level marketing managah.
Doug:
No, dude, not your job — I'm talking about being a Red Sox fan.
Doug:
Think about it. You'll be a Sox fan whethah you're rich or poor, healthy or dying, happy or sad.
Mike:
Absolutely. I mean speaking for myself, while the nuances have changed slightly, my rooting for the Red Sox today is intrinsincly no different than when I rooted for the Red Sox when I was 6 years old.
Doug:
And it'll be the same when you're 96.
Al:
OK. You're right. Being a fan of the Red Sox is the constant.
Al:
And while I'd be willing to go watch the 49 year old Oil Can to see if he has indeed been égiven back the fastball,é you won't catch me watching Foreignah play at the
Hopkinton Fair, OK?
Bill:
Well, this'll cheer you up.
The PECOTA rankings are out
and look who is at the top of the AL East with 98 wins.
Doug:
Yeah, well, that's all hugs and kisses until you balance it with Will Carroll's Team Health Report.
Doug:
And that's not the kind of "red" we want with our Sox.
Bill:
Ah, c'mon, you saying you have a problem with J.D. "Judged Disabled" Drew being backed up by Rocco "My Muscles Stopped Working" Baldelli who is backed up by Mark "Bad Back" Kotsay?
Doug:
Looks like the Front Office is going to roll the dice in 2009 the way they did in '06.
Susan/Circle:
Seriously. Now that disliking him will become the default condition for the masses, it just won't be much fun anymore.
Mike:
Absolutely. I prefer my hatreds to be petty,
cartoonish, and arbitrary rather than weighty, earnest and rational.
Susan/Circle:
Think about it. The blue lips, the ball slap in white gloves and purse,
the "dropping the shoulder move", the sleepovahs, the boning Madonna have all been overwritten with the imprimatur of "steroid cheatah" and rendered obsolete.
Mike:
Worse. Now the minority position on A-Rod isn't going to be one of the partisan derision sort that we've worked dilegently to
nurture
ovah the years,
but rathah one of sympathy.
Lisa the Temp:
Lisa Gems while celebrating
the anniversary of the coronation
of Elizabeth II, the greatest modern queen of them all and who has "gems" in her crown.*
Lisa the Temp:
I bet you a 100 dinars
Lars
will one day be on the list of Boston superstars.
Lisa the Temp:
The artist Mungo Thompson and Dustin Pedroia are both from
Woodland, CA. Thompson's work has been described as that of a "polymorphous, bastard conceptualist." I'm pretty sure Pedroia can kick his as at ping-pong.
Lisa the Temp:
The dumb bitch with 14 kids has 16 kids too many.
Lisa the Temp:
Ray Lewis sees Dallas "as a great opportunity." We assume so does Michael Vick.
Lisa the Temp:
President Obama says his staff is "worn out" after just 17 days. And now Manny Ramirez is wondering how he can sign up for that gig.
Lisa the Temp:
OK, peeps, Lisa's gotta run. Have a happy
National Wear Red Day. Yes, peeps, I'm wearing a little bit, a very little bit of red all under …
Bill:
Eithah way, what I love best about Theo's infrequent pronouncements is the dialectic of his subtle yet overt digs at the Yankees.
Doug:
You mean digs like, "We're not building this organization through free agency. I don't think that's an intelligent way to build an organization."
Bill:
Absolutely, and, jabs like, "We've actually done a pretty good job of getting [Teixeira] out throughout his career, so hopefully we can continue that."
Doug:
When Theo give these State of Nation's Offseason Addreses, I feel like Chris Mathews listening to Obama — you know, "I feel this thrill going up my leg."
Bill:
Yeah, whenevah I hear Theo start waxing eloquent I'm overcome with a sudden yet inexplicable desire to speak in LOLCAT tongues —
Doug:
Ah, yes, the ol "Pieces of his mind" column. How unprecedented!
Al:
No, wait, now, guy, it's not just any "pieces of mind" column but a "icked-up pieces while still mourning John Updike, the greatest writer of them all and the man who wrote 'Picked-Up Pieces' . . ." column.
Mike:
Now that is to opening lines what Julio Lugo is to leadoff hitting.
Al:
The only reason I still read Shaughnessy is for the schedenfraude of knowing he can no longah sprinkle every piece he writes with Curse of the Bambino allusions.
Doug:
Yeah, but that doesn't mean other platitudes are off limits. Leave it do Dan-O to reach out for the lame-o "the 50th anniversary of
the day the music died" meme.
Mike:
Is that "music died" thing the absolute worst cliche in all of popular culture or what?
Doug:
Seriously. I mean music didn't die but flourished since that plane went down 50 years ago.
Al:
Yeah, it's not like without Holly, Valens, and the Big Bopper that there was no Elvis, no Wall-of-Sound, no Beatles nor Stones nor Led Zep …
Mike:
Or no Big Star, no Ramones, no Dolls, no Television, no Bowie, Iggy …
Doug:
No Clash, no Pistols, no Joy Division, no Sioxsie, no Nirvana, no Weezah …
Al:
No Marley, no Tosh, no Lee Perry
Doug:
Yeah, or no hit makahs like the Donna Summah, the Bee Gees, Michael Jackson, Madonna …
Mike:
No Run-DMC, no Public Enemy, no N.W.A., no Jay-Z ₊
Doug:
It's like this — Saying "the music died" with Buddy Holly is like saying the video gaming industry died when Atari discontinued
Pong.
"Here’s a crazy thought: If I can smoke a little dope and go on to win 14 Olympic gold medals, maybe pot smokers aren’t doomed to lives of couch surfing and video games, as our moronic government would have us believe."
Mike:
Yep, just anothah lazy, unmotivated, losah stonah who just happens to be the greatest friggin swimmah in the history of the world.
Al:
So now that Manny is gone, you think there are any Red Sox who like the Mary Jane?
Mike:
I dunno this is a pretty straight-laced bunch between the Evangelicals and the hyperbaric chambahs.
Doug:
What about Ortiz?
Al:
Yeah, maybe, I can see Papi kicked back blazing a big Bob Marley joint.
