Bill:
Pfft... been there, done that, got the Kohoutek t-shirt.
Mike:
Cosmic let down, eh?
Bill:
Seriously. I'd actually rank my boyhood disappointment with the Comet Kohoutek that wasn't higher than my disappointment at losing the '75 World Series on my all 70s disappointment list.
Mike:
You know what went wrong with Kohoutek, right?
Bill:
Partial disintegration is what I was told.
Mike:
Well that and they should have named it Comet Varitek.
Doug:
Hey, there puddy-tat, don't you worry about ridding us of those rats, as long as you're bringing your fucking feline A game to those dastardly song birds and chipmunks and shit, you know you've got a wedding-china plate full of Tendah Vittles waiting for you over here.
Al:
Seriously, it's not like rats have a history of being a vector in worldwide lethal plagues or anything.
Mike:
You know, cats killing things we like and not killing things we don't like, well, it's almost like they're working against us or something.
Doug:
I've always thought that. I mean just look at their behavior? Cats hold us in contempt. And they always look guilty of something. You can see it in their eyes.
Al:
So so-called cat people are sleeping with the enemy?
Bill:
But it's like watching one of those home redo shows on HGTV.
Bill:
You know, they walk into a house that's all cluttered with the inhabitants flotsam and jetsam all strewn about and ugly wall hangings and misaligned furniture and so on and so forth...
Bill:
Then the designah guru comes through and cleans it all up and makes the home beautiful, clean, usable, and livable and goes into a painstaking exposition to the inhabitants carefully laying out they heuristics of why its beautiful, clean, usable, and livable and the homeowners stare wide-eyed nodding their heads and emoting, "OMG! OMG! I can't believe this is the same house!"
Bill:
Meanwhile, 4 weeks later you know the inside of the home is totally fucked up again.
Mike:
People are people.
Bill:
It is what it is.
Mike:
Are you a misanthrope?
Bill:
No, I don't hate people. I just feel bettah when they aren't around.*
Bill:
I mean if you're going to shiv someone, you want the nastiest shiv possible.
Doug:
You gonna read it?
Bill:
Fuck no.
Doug:
Likewise. Not only do I not want to spend a dime to enable the CHB's spite machine, in the end I just don't care much about the dirty laundry airing regardless of whom is doing the the hanging or by whom the laundry was sullied.
Bill:
Seriously. I could read that Henry, Werner, and Lucchino wanted to field a team made up entirely of Mexican Shemales o boost television ratings, and I'd be like, "Well, you know they did play a majah role in the ending the 1918 drought... And that shemale Carmencita at short is kinda hawt."
Doug:
Absolutely. While we frequently like to bust their balls, truth is everyone and anyone associated with the 2004 club—ownahs, managahs, coaches, playahs, hell even Pedro's little friend (may he rest in peace)— pretty much has an unexpired carte blanche with me.
Bill:
Besides even if we do learn that a member of the 2004 Bunch of Idiots did something heinous, they need only go on TV, tear up, and say a couple of Hail Oprahs and all is forgiven.
Doug:
"Hail Oprah, round of face.
Adored we are with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the book of thy club."
Mike:
Heh, the day after Cherington asks Carmine to find playahs with immeasureable intangibles he shows up at work, swipes his key guard and gets a red light flashing "DENIED." He swipes it again, and still, "DENIED."
He punches the intercom button and says, "Carmine, open the Yawkey Way doors."
Carmine responds, "I'm sorry, Ben, but I can't do that."
Doug:
Well, it's easy only if you're blessed as we are in being recipients of the largesse of the collective IQs of the best and the brightest on both Yawkey Way and Washington D.C.
Bill:
So who's head are they going to put on the trillion dollah coin?
Doug:
Do you think it makes me a bad American to confess that I have no desire to see the movie Lincoln?
Mike:
Personally, I couldn't give a rat's ass, but your Tea Baggah buddies may stop inviting you to Chick-Fil-A Day.
Doug:
The thing is, it's not just Lincoln but movies in general.
Doug:
I've grown increasingly less interested in seeing human beings pretend to be characters, and at some point, I started to find it actively annoying.
Mike:
Yeah, this is why we are drawn to live sports ovah movies.
Mike:
The athlete, out of that congeries of emotion, choice, strategy, knowledge of the terrain, mood of spectators, condition of others on the team, secret awareness of injury or weakness, and as nearly an absolute concentration as possible so that all externalities are integrated, all distraction absorbed by the self, must able to change the self so successfully that it changes us.
Mike:
Watching the athlete at play on the field "re-creates" in a way that the film actor nevah can and nevah will.
Mike:
And therein lies your disinterest.
Doug:
Well, that and the fact that Tom Cruise is at least a foot too short to play Jack Reachah.
