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Lovely Lisa (capricious aide)

Lisa the Temp:
Oh, come on now, my peeps. It's not all bad. At least you've got me, Lisa the Temp, to keep you company.


Lisa the Temp:
And since I'm a multi-talented pro, I can give you the hot Red Sox action you come here for.


Lisa the Temp:
I mean how hard can it be? Watch and learn, peeps …


Lisa the Temp:
So Character 1 goes, "Wow did you see so and so from the Red Sox do [insert something good or something bad]."


Lisa the Temp:
And then Character 2 goes, "Holy f-bomb yeah I did [insert pop culture reference]."


Lisa the Temp:
And Character 1 then says, "Surely this is a sign of [insert obvious or obscure literary reference]."


Lisa the Temp:
And next Character 2 expounds, "And by the way, the Yankees suck."


Lisa the Temp:
And then hilarity ensues.


Lisa the Temp:
See, my peeps, nothing to it.


Lisa the Temp:
And don't be afraid to say it — You loves you some Lisa.



Give me a hell yeah.

And a shout out to the last place New York Yankees


I loves me some Lisa.

Oh Lisa. I love you dearly, but now you've given away H.B.'s formula for success (but cleverly leaving out the secret ingredient: Jameson.)

See, Lisa's still a temp - for, what, three years now? - because she isn't in with the office talk, and didn't know that the pop culture reference on a Thursday night would obviously be Lost. Of course, the dear is probably 23 or so and still has a life during the week.

When is she free to take some tea with me?

Did somebody say "Lost"?

hmm looks like my use of quotes around the word "island" wasn't too far off the mark. But are they dead or not? Not sure I care any more. Glad to see the alki dad got choked out. Locke must have superhuman strength to carry that fat load of shit on his back.

Oh, and, the RS look good; especially enjoyed the gentle graze across the belly that Lowell gayve Piazza after he jumped on his wing.


Lisa-Wanna play with my peeps?

Nice, IkeG!

Oooh, Lisa - give me some of that red-hot action.

With all your crazed wooing of Lisa, y'all are reminding me of the Bird of Paradise mating dance caught on tape on the superb Discovery Channel series "Planet Earth..."


I am feeling kind of weird lately re: the Yanks--- stuck between the delight of schadenfreude and the semi-boredom of the first-last disparity ;)

Don't reveal your secret formula! It could be stolen by [Steinbrenner reference] and use in his secret [bioengineering reference] labs to design a sinister yankeeholic cartoonist!

LC, Locke should try the fireman's carry with that fat bastard. It would be appropriate considering the dead guy once played one on TV. http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001798/

Is it just me, or is the whole, "you're all dead" kind of a hackneyed, easy-way-out explanation?

C'mon Nat,you know you're still the one :)

Nice pseudo-Beatles reference in the title, HB. BTW, what happened to the strip showing Marty at work listening to Tuesday's game? You know, the one where the first box shows Sterling talking about in a roundabout way about Hughes' no-no, the second box has him reporting on Hughes' injury, and the third box shows the outside of the $$ office building with somebody leaping out a window?

[insert tedious limerick or haiku here]

Lisa, I lust you!

You have to admire the power of the male imagination. It's a really remarkable thing.

Somehow, I just can't even muster a jokingly fun interest in Doug or Mike. But that Arturo...

Ah, Rich, that's what they all say after they're caught panting over every round-heeled trollop in an ill-fitting purple suit who strokes their keyboard :)

Lisa shows up and we all put saltpeter in our coffee. I guess that alone speaks volumes about the readership.

So what's the over/under on when the fans turn on Drew? A hot start seques into a case of chronic rally killing.

Nat - no purple suit will ever take the place of a teal-colored bridesmaid dress in our hearts... :)

//...and the third box shows the outside of the $$ office building with somebody leaping out a window?//

Bosox, I don't think Marty would ever leap himself. Too arrogant, too many gold chains to fondle at home.

He has people to jump for him.

LC, thanks for your ongoing shout outs. You can keep shouting about the last place Yankees all month if circumstances warrant. I worry only that your voice will become too hoarse to cheer in September. Sorry, I forgot... you won't need to.

We all love the lovely Lisa, but we really lust after the able-bodied Beckett. And in three years, we'll have him... you know I'm right. The Red Sox have such a wonderful legacy of holding onto their future Hall of Fame pitchers, beginning with Schilling (next year) and going back through Clemens, Pedro, El Tiante (should have been in Cooperstown if only for his idiosyncrasies) all the way back to you-know-who.

No No Nanette, say it ain't so.

But the Thunder has spoken.

Thanks, Rob. I feel much better now. :)

Also, hb's strip today reminds me of the Bill Simmons-spoofing madlibs site: "Write Your Very Own Sports Guy Column." Mildly amusing for those with time to kill:


This just in: minutes after being photographed wearing a Yankees cap, Tom Brady pulled his hamstring.

Oh, sorry. Forgot to use our agreed-upon symbol:


I can deal with Tom being a Yankee fan if he swears he's a Patriots fan.

I think he'd look good in Pats gear.

In any case, Brady doesn't have to pull his hamstring. He has Giselle for that.

(I'm here all week. Try the veal.)

I once had a friend from Down Under,
His wit left the Skanks fans asunder.
He's fond of our Lisa,
She's, oh, such a teasah.
His posts steal all of poor Pinstripes 'Thunder'.

(Ezra Pound, I'm not...)

Lovely Lisa capricious aide
Where would I be without you?
Last place in May
First place the day
That we learn who will play
In October.

Book and lyrics to "Oh, Papelbon" to follow...

Bravo, Pinstripes! A tip 'o the cap with the big "B" on it to you. :-)

A Rumble from the Fens (a poem in the style of e.e. cummings)

to start the day
i heard a rumble

a bumble so great
the earth had split a seam

tumbling down the charles
it stumbled up to my ear

i grumbled
at the sound
what noxiousness had put upon me

the herald brought the news:

the yankees fumbled all three games
the red sox had jumbled their brains

what i heard from afar
was just a bit of indigestion

the green monster had eaten the yankees whole
this missive from the fens was just a bit of "pinstripe thunder"

Aw, the submission form extracted the "extraneous" spacing that I used for style and formatting. :(

That's...I love it, Kaz.

Kaz - I humbly bow before my literary superior. (That really was grand. Well done!)

Is it me, or isn't it about time for Lisa to lose the MS-DOS relic from the early 80's? We all know by now that she knows what to do with floppies!

Here's a shout out to all the peeps in schadenfreudeizzle RSNizzle! First place in April with nary a drizzle!



A limerick from Rob! A redux of Natalie's teal frock!! Kaz!!!! [Insert misquote from literature or inapposite reference to the Collingwood Football Club here.]

Don't worry, Kaz. From my perspective, it was all extraneous spacing. However, I will dedicate my lyrics to "O Papelbon" to you...

O Papelbon O Papelbon
You used to give such pleasure
Your arm was strong, your mind was clear
You were our latest treasure
Now you neither start nor close
You spend your games in glum repose
O Papelbon O Papelbon
You're neither fish nor fowl
You're in the spring of your career
But Bosox angst's already near
O Papelbon O Papelbon
Your pitches don't delight us
Soon you'll fight with Shaughnessy
And suffer fresh indignity
Perhaps it's time to trade your mound
For far more rich and fertile ground
Come to Broadway, Papelbon
We'll turn your whole career around
O Papelbon O Papelbon
We know how to jump start you
O Papelbon O Papelbon
Du kannst mir sehr gefallen.

Tomorrow, in deference to your love for ee cummings, I will give you "I dream of manny glad and big"

As always, the Thunder has spoken.

Plum suited vixen
Male fans dream of her dimples
work place "one-night-stand"

Song lyrics are the lowest form of parody...so easy.

Start spreading the news, They'll lose too in May
I want to see'em fall apart - New York, New York
These hamstring blues, are frequently fray
Pavano's shoulder hurting too - New York, New York

I wanna have a little pity, no heart's that deep
Boston's king of the hill - top of the East

Your fifth place blues, are here to stay
You have no starters capable - in old New York
If Karstens will pitch for you, why not pitch Mr. Magoo
Everyone's up from you - New York, New York

I'd love to regale you all with more poems and lyrics today, but I must go watch Matsuzaka vs. Ichiro - Round Ni (that's 2 in Japanese, for you Python fans).

I'm predicting a Kyu San Shin night.

Ok, maybe Jyu Ni. That'd be cool.

Blood or paint
There is the taint
Of million dollar blowhards
Rivera with his Aztec pride
Takes his critics in his stride.
The autumn frost will separate
The winners from the losers
Just as the Thunder warns of rain
To smug and smirking boozers.

A demain, Bloody Socks.

Alright, just for you, PT, one more:

It was the best of Aprils, it was the worst of Aprils, it was the age of Okajima, it was the age of Igawa, it was the epoch of a sweep, it was the epoch of getting swept, it was the season of Red Sox, it was the season of Yankee Blues, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything going for us, they had nothing going for them, we were going direct to the World Series, they were going direct the other way -- in short, the period was so far like the past periods, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

(I thought the ending was so appropriate as to not change it)

Kaz - 楽しみなさい。
細い縦縞の雷- あなたの日の仕事をあきらめてはいけない。

//Last place in May
First place the day
That we learn who will play
In October.//

Why do they need to wait? They can't plan out their golf foursomes now?

An excellent summary of April, Kaz, so I can respond in kind only for October...

Frazee! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster... he carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog days of summer and didn't thaw it one degree for the postseason festivities.

So it was then, and so it shall continue to this day.

No No Nanette, say it ain't so.

Blood red sock on the Cooperstown wall, who were the Blackest Sox of all?

Thunder bids you a good night.

//Thunder bids you a good night.//

Any possibility he/she died in his/her sleep?

(I still think it's BigLie. He just bought at Thesaurus and is taking internet classes at Phoenix U.)

In any case, he's a writer who's been over-weaned.

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