2011 Wrapped (put on doorstep and set aflame)

Doug:
The final out of the 2011 baseball season, a freak Octobah snowstorm, and a rare loss to the Steelahs... I've had bettah weekends.

 

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Bill:
It gets late early around here these days.

 

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Doug:
At least we've got the hunt for a new skip to keep us paying attention.

 

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Bill:
Pete Mackanin and Dale Sveum.

 

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Doug:
Ah, Dale Sveum, now there's the stuff dreams are made of.

 

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Bill:
Golden memories. Heh.

 

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A is for acrid, B is for bitter,...

Mike:
One strike, not once but twice, one strike away from winning the World Series and the Rangahs can't get it done.

 

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Doug:
They are toast. Texas toast.

 

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Al:
Yeah, even Walkah, Texas Rangah, couldn't save them now.

 

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Doug:
Tony LaRussa is already planning his celebratory meal of tofu and lentils.

 

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Mike:
So no empathy for the Rangahs considering the similarity with '86?

 

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Doug:
Empathy is for pussies. Real men fill their hahts with bittahness.

 

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Al:
Seriously. Bittah is so friggin undah rated.

 

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Doug:
Absolutely. I mean imagine a world without bittah ale?

 

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Al:
Or bittah greens?

 

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Doug:
Or bittah clingahs?

 

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Doug:
If bittahness is wrong, well, then I do want to fight.

 

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Al:
Give me bittahly or give me death!

 

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No separation

Mike:
Let the managah hunt begin.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Let the rostah hypothesizing unfold.

 

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Mike:
Meet the new offseason. As intense as the old onseason.

 

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Mike:
You cannot escape the pull of the Red Sox orbit.

 

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Susan/Circle:
We are Rodin figures encased in Red Sox marble.

 

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Mike:
Red Sox toujours au milieu
De tout qui l'entoure.

 

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Guarded Optimism

Mike:
Well, for the first time since the Septembocalypse, I actually feel like things are looking up again.

 

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Al:
Yeah, Theo's lettah to the fans felt honest and hahtfelt. And Cherington seems like the right man, at the right time.

 

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Mike:
What struck me about Cherington is how he comes across as the so-called "smahtest guy in the room" and yet doesn't seem to give a shit about being the smahtest guy in the room.

 

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Doug:
On the othah hand, despite all the sounds bites of "the Sox are on solid ground" and "from talking to players there’s a great motivation to clean up whatever does need to be cleaned" variety, let's not kid ourselves. This is one fuck of a mess of a ballclub.

 

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Al:
Seriously. There's no guarantee this whole thing isn't going to be the equivalent of photoshopping a Lindsay Lohan centahfold and packaging it up as something new.

 

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Doug:
When, as the D-Listed dude so eloquently puts it, the reality is "every pair of eyeballs on this planet have seen Lindsay Lohan's freckled titty sacks so much that we could all draw them from memory on an Etch-A-Sketch."

 

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We'll be right back...

Your omniscient author in absentia:
As I mentioned in the comments the other day, I'm taking a long weekend to drink beer, eat chicken, and play video games... I'll see you back here Tuesday (or perhaps Wednesday depending on the chicken).

 

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There's some hope. Now need the change.

Bill:
Holy shit, out of the dahkness shines a light —

Padres may have interest in Lackey!

 

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Doug:
Whatevah they are smoking in San Diego must be totally killah.

 

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Bill:
"The Red Sox would have to pick up most of the remaining $45.75 million remaining on his contract."

 

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Doug:
Talk about money well spent.

 

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Bill:
What is John Henry's PayPal address? I'd like to make a modest donation to this most charitable cause.

 

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Doug:
Are you kidding me? I'll charge it to my Flexible Spending Account and tell the IRS it's for mental health counseling.

 

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The Walking Dead

Bill:
You know the worst paht about this whole 2011 epic collapse?

 

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Bill:
It's not the collapse itself, as horrific as that was...

 

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Bill:
No, it's how this aftahmath is tainting and polluting my memories of 2004.

 

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Mike:
Seriously. Now when I think of the Red Sox my first thoughts have gone from pride and joy to revulsion.

 

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Mike:
We are living in a friggin post apolcayptic world now.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, but instead of rotten-fleshed zombies shuffling along aimlessly...

 

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Bill:
We've got Beckett, Lackey, and Lestah drunk-eyed and covered with chicken grease.

 

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And they don't grow back

Mike:
Sigh. Now Lestah has succumbed to the compulsion to tell "his side of the story" to the media.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Please make it stop. Stop. StopStopStop.

 

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Mike:
Seriously. Can't they all just go on the Jerry Springah show and have it all out and then neatly wrapp it up within a 60 minute time box?

 

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Susan/Circle:
I dunno. I think to get on Springah or any of those shows you need eithah a paternity case or a sex tape to be involved.

 

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Mike:
Can you imagine Lackey in a sex tape?

 

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Susan/Circle:
Dude, you just like cauterized a dozen a of my eggs.

 

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Make way for intelligent user agents

Doug:
Well, things have finally reached the nadir. I'm agreeing with the CHB on this one.

 

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Doug:
"I love the notion that the Sox are in their offices working furiously to correct the problems of 2011 and make things better for 2012 . . . all while Epstein is still running baseball ops. Don’t they usually change the locks and walk you to your car when you take a job at a competitor?"

 

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Bill:
Meanwhile, you can take Epstein but you can't have Carmine.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, well, Carmine is so yestahday.

 

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OK, if we're gonna go all trash talk and all...

Al:
OK. I think it's time for a moratorium on Red Sox news items coming from the MSM and their coterie.

 

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Al:
I mean this "he said, she said mudslinging" is below my dignity.

 

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Doug:
And considering that time you were so drunk you tried to take a whizz in the punch bowl at your cousin's nuptials, that's a pretty friggin low bah of dignity.

 

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Al:
Who the fuck puts punch in a porcelain bowl? I mean really?

 

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Mike:
Al's point is a valid one though. I mean if I'm gonna read trashy gossip, I'd prefer to read it on the blogs of snarky, queer, celebrity gossip bloggahs.

 

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Al:
Seriously. I mean the writing is fah bettah as things go.

 

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Doug:
Not to mention the T&A and pics of A-List camel toe.

 

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The Ryan Express

Mike:
Man, is that Nelson Cruz an all around playah or what?

 

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Al:
Yeah, but does Nelson Cruz have his own hyperbaric chambah? Does he complain about the game scheduling? Does he bitch and moan about how the official scorers score?

 

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Al:
Huh, huh, huh?

 

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Mike:
Why do I get that feeling that the Ranger's pitchers aren't having chicken, biscuit, and beer gluts on Ryan's watch?

 

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Doug:
Can you imagine Lackey pulling his Lackey in Nolan Ryan's presence?

 

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Doug:
Nolan Ryan would just stare like a rattlesnake at Lackey until Lackey's testes undescended.

 

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Al:
Seriously, Nolan Ryan is so tough he has sides of beef as appetizers. His own branded beef.

 

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Doug:
Are you kidding me? Nolan Ryan once had a growth on his ass, he named it Ditka.

 

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Mike:
Whenevah Rick Perry is about to answer a question in a debate he remembahs the time he saw Nolan Ryan drown fish in a lake of his own piss and this makes Rick Perry ascared.

 

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Doug:
Rick Perry is running for President just to avoid Nolan Ryan.

 

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Al:
Nolan Ryan would run for President except for the naturalization requirements. Nolan Ryan wasn't born, he just appeared.

 

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Chicken and Biscuits

Bill:
Well, it's the end of the Theo Era as we know it.

 

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Bill:
And I feel...

 

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Bill:
Blasé?

 

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Mike:
For me it's more like those stories you hear about climbahs on Mount Everest who have the summit in sight, so close, and yet they're so oxgen depleted and insane that they take off their clothes and staht hiking back down the mountain babbling about a Real Doll needing rescue from the Island of Misfit Toys.

 

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Bill:
Well, the Globe's "J'accuse" expose this morning is certainly the kind of thing that'll knock the wind out of ya.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, only Pedroia comes out that unscathed. Not surprisingly I might add. The dude's a Knight among Knaves.

 

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Bill:
So I'm sure Boston is gonna miss Theo...

 

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Bill:
But I bet Theo is really gonna miss Boston.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, whatevah. Life goes on.

 

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Bill:
That reminds me... I need to return my sunset rental. They called yestahday saying the NBA needs it.

 

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All stuped up

Your omniscient author in absentia:
I'd had family visiting for the long weekend, and while I was able to pop out a strip yesterday, today I'm abosultely putting the stup in stuporous.

Should be back to normal tomorrow.

 

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Happy Columbus Day

Al:
Phillies bounced out. Yankees bounced out.

 

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Doug:
Obviously this means the system is inherently unfair.

 

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Al:
Waa waa waa call a waambulance.

 

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Doug:
Are Yankees fans the biggest bunch of crybabies in all of sports or what?

 

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Mike:
The beautiful thing is that in the end, regardless of the particulah playoff scheme, the results would remain the same — The New York Yankees: Biggest Chokahs of the 21st Century.

 

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Al:
You know, Schadenfreude is like lasagna — It's even bettah the next day.

 

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Way beyond our means

Mike:
Well, I guess we now know what "Mystique and Aura" is valued at in today's economy — exactly 2 playoff wins.

 

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Doug:
And if I could offah you some dessert with your dish of Schadenfreude might I suggest the following nuggets: 1. A-Rod ends the game by striking out. 2. A-Rod went 2-18 in the ALDS. 3. A-Rod is 36 years old and had has 6 years left on his contract.

 

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Al:
This is the best Friday since August.

 

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Mike:
Before we get too cocky let's remembah that the Red Sox and Yankees spent $363 million this year for the luxury of watching the ALCS on TV.

 

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Doug:
Well, if our elite Washington economic fixah-uppahs are a guide, the solution is very simple — $pend More!

 

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Al:
Exactly. Let's stop rinky-dinkying around with millions and get into billions.

 

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Doug:
And let's think of some way we can add some green jobs initiatives into that spending like a true high rollah.

 

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Al:
And high speed rail, of course. You're not fucking serious about throwing money around indiscriminately unless you're talking high speed rail.

 

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Doug:
R.O.I. is for pussies.

 

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To Steve Jobs...

Susan:
Yeah, it's hit me a lot hahdah than I'd evah have expected.

 

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Susan:
I know, right. It was always about more than just a computer.

 

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Susan:
So I'm not going into work today...

 

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Susan:
No, I'm gonna sit in a cafe and read

 

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Susan:
Who?

 

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Susan:
Lorca, Lifshin, and Neruda...

 

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Susan:
Yeah, that's what I'll do.

 

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Susan:
Maybe doodle a bit on the iPad

 

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Susan:
Sketches of little things that make me feel glad

 

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Susan:
Then I'll call my mom.

 

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Susan:
Ask her about wrapping the green tomatoes

 

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Susan:
On the first night the cold is tangible

 

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Susan:
as a cloth

 

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Susan:
Then come evening

 

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Susan:
Like a little moth

 

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Susan:
I'll seek out the warm glow

 

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Susan:
Of the the finest of fine aged calvados

 

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Susan:
And raise a toast to the Mac Pro of Pros.

 

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At least the Rays lost. Friggin chumps.

Al:
Poor lil' CHB is all in a lathah.

 

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Al:
"The Red Sox won't talk to me wah wah wah."

 

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Doug:
First, if the front office were to talk, is there anybody left who still trusts the CHB and the rest that bunch to report honestly?

 

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Doug:
Second, I'm glad the Red Sox aren't talking because right now the last thing I want to listen to is the Red Sox spin machine.

 

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Doug:
And as for Theo Epstein, enjoy Chicago. I hope you and your bestie Obama have a sweet life there togethah.

 

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Mike:
It's gonna be a long wintah.

 

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Doug:
The fuck it is.

 

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Suddenly there came a tapping

Susan/Circle:
The more I hear about the 2011 Red Sox the more it's once upon a midnight dreary.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, and the new skip isn't going to have it easy, you know stahting off as the mastah of an unmerciful disastah.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Seriously. Deep into that dahkness peering, long I stand here fearing, it's gonna be all "Wait until the year aftah the year aftah next year."

 

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Mike:
Perhaps you should sit divining, pink-hatted at ease reclining, on the bandwagon's velvet lining?

 

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Susan/Circle:
Quoth the Raven: Nevah that whore.

 

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It's a true fact

Doug:
Tough weekend to be a Red Sox fan, eh, Ahts?

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Yeah, the anti-Sox vitriol nationwide was dialed up to 11.

 

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Doug:
Seriously. wearing a Sox cap is like wearing a fur coat at a PETA fundraisah.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Well, it's like Nietzsche said, "We do not hate as long as we still attach a lessah value, but only when we attach an equal or a greatah value."

 

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Doug:
Or as Lil' Wayne prefers to put it, "Dear Mr. Toilet, I’m the shit, I got these other haters mad cause my toilet paper thick."

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
That'll work.

 

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Doug:
That's right. We win bettah. We lose bettah.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Absolutely. We don't make the news; we are the fucking news.

 

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