« September 2010 |
Main
| November 2010 »
Bill:
Got your Halloween costume all picked out.
Doug:
Oh fuck yeah I do...
Doug:
In the spirit of the tsunami that is coming on election day Tuesday, I'm going to dress up as a liberal protestah.
Bill:
Stilts, puppets, and wigs?
Doug:
Oh, no, guy, that's too pedestrian. It's time to think, big, really big...
Bill:
You don't mean... no...
Bill:
It's a "Trick" and a "Treat"!
Doug:
♫ Imagine a world of giant nut sacks. It's easy if you try. ♪
Doug:
Whoa, dude, could you, you know, keep your Twilight fetish in the closet... there's no place for that here.
Doug:
Yeah, guy, want me to call IT and see if they can put a Twilight screen savah on your computer?
Mike:
So it's a sad fucking day in Boston when I'm taking shit from you two clowns.
Al:
Heh, would that be a "RandJob"?
Doug:
And by the friggin way that instigating chick who got stomped should be grateful... that RandJob was the closest she's gotten to foreplay in like forevah.
Al:
You know it's only a mattah of time before the Googlestoppo bust in here and drag you off and then cleanse your very existence from the intahwebs, right?
Doug:
My resplendence has no bitch.
Doug:
Red Sox season ovah, Mad Men season ovah... but at least there's Storm Chasahs, the best reality show evah!
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Man vs. Nature; Dominator vs. TIV, catty meteorologist infighting mixed with a tinge of latent homoeroticism... what's not to like?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Well, there's the rub isn't it?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Of course, you see yourself in the mold of the heroic Reed Timmer, but what if, in reality, you're perceived more as a whining, risk averse, jealous Sean Casey?
Doug:
Jesus, fuck, Arturo, you're a real ball bustah aren't ya?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Heh-Heh.
Bill:
You know, Mahts, you just gotta love the whims of fate...
Bill:
Oh, and did I say "beaten"? That's not quite right is it? Because the Yankees weren't just beaten, they were bludgeoned weren't they?
Bill:
Beaten by the long ball. Beaten by small ball. Beaten by pitching. Beaten by the pen. Beat, beaten down.
Marty:
Yeah, well, fuck you Callaghan. Where were your Beantown Beaners and their 2nd highest payroll in baseball during the playoffs?
Marty:
You friggin hypocrite.
Bill:
Oh, Mahty, do you know how good it is to hear you measuring the Yankees stature by comparing then to the World Renowned Boston Red Sox, the team with the greatest fans in the world, playing in the greatest ballpahk in the world?
Bill:
It's a very good feeling, Mahts, very good.
Bill:
[Sound of sniffing] Wait, what's that smell?... Oh, it's schadenfreude!
Bill:
I loves me the smell of schadenfreude in the morning, Mahts, don't you?
Mike:
I know this is supposed to be seen as a positive...
Al:
It does make one's skin crawl doesn't it?
Doug:
Seriously, I haven't had anything make me feel so queer, in the original sense of the word, since that time a Mexican shemale with a foot fetish told me my toejam tasted like fresas.
Al:
You know that every time you say "foot fetish" a Google bot gets a binary erection, right?
Mike:
I've got nothing this morning, guy.
Mike:
Is it me or does it feel like the 2010 season didn't really happen?
Mike:
I mean I know I was there for it, but the memories are fleeting and empty.
Doug:
Yeah, it's like a night with a RealDoll™. It happened but it's uncomfortably unsatisfying.
Bill:
Was that the "Mystique" or the Aura? I get so confused sometimes. Heh.
Mike:
I tell you how bad it's gotten for Yankees fans...
Mike:
Last night when BigBri's mom went down to the basement to tuck him in, BigBri refused to give mommy a good night kiss.
Bill:
Hey, but there's hope for all the mouth breathin livin' with their mothah basement dwellin' Yankees fans —
Bill:
Now that Grim LaRouge is out of the picture there's less competition for the fair hand of the "white queen" Cameron Diaz.
Mike:
"But her son [Grim], also a known graffiti vandal, has managed to finish writing a 700-page novel 'about a ninja or something' that he's self-publishing next month."
Mike:
You cannot make shit like this up.
Al:
And with each postseason pulvah, his price goes up.
Doug:
If his price gets any highah, the Federal Government is gonna take Cliff Lee ovah to offset the deficit.
Doug:
Henry says they're going to be "frugal"
Al:
Yeah, he sees lots of "revenue potentials" and you know what that means...
Mike:
Hey, now, don't knock the alternative revenue streams... like Henry said, we have gone toe-to-toe with the Yankees even though they have got a much higher revenue.
Doug:
Yeah, although aftah the past 2 seasons it doesn't feel especially toe-to-toe but more like steel toe-to-ass.
Bill:
When I saw that Rangahs meltdown Friday night against the Yankees, I couldn't help but wondah if the Bambino moved to Texas aftah getting run out of Fenway in '04.
Bill:
When I think of the Rangahs the only thing I can this is – Cliff Lee. Me want.
Bill:
Lee and Lestah? Leftylicious.
Doug:
Yeah, but c'mon, what are the chances of landing Lee in free agency?
Doug:
I mean Theo's going to be busy as hell this off season looking for a overpriced, undahperforming shortstop fercrissakes, he doesn't have time to pursue Lee.
Bill:
Yeah, and don't forget the "reclamation" projects.
Bill:
Who needs a top of the line stahtah when you can sign some guy off the hospital outpatient list and hope for a miracle?
Your omniscient author in absentia:
I'm headed out and about for a couple days. See you back here on Monday.
Al:
Yeah, I'd by lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous of Rangers fans. There's nothing like the feeling of being led into Octobah on the back of an undeniable ace.
Doug:
Absolutely. And even when in the end you don't win it all, just having that one guy to rally around is phenomenal. Remembah Petey in '99? OMFG.
Mike:
And when you do win it all on the back of a stud ace... Un.Buh.Lievable.
Al:
Damn, I can't believe '07 seems so fah away now.
Doug:
Seriously. I know they say "time is a cruel mistress" and all...
Doug:
But I didn't know they meant that time was a "get on your knees, slave, and lap up my urine" cruel mistress kinda cruel mistress.
Al:
I swear if my great great grandkids have to one day enduah chants of "Two-thousand seven!" I'm going to rise from the grave as a zombie and staht eating brains.
Doug:
Will that be targeted zombie-on-the-living action or just indiscriminate cahnage?
Al:
Well, ah, I hadn't really thought it through.
Doug:
See that's just it isn't it? The whole problem with a zombie uprising is it's all just "Brain! Brain! Yom Yom Salt Yum."
Doug:
I mean there's no planning, no coordinated attack, no end game, nothing.
Mike:
OK, "Zombie Manny vs Zombie Being Manny," who wins?
Al:
Wait, wait, is eithah zombie on the preggahs hormone?
Detached voice of H.B. from a Green Line trolley:
OK, some good news and bad news this morning...
H.B.
First the bad news:
Your creepy author forgot to set the alarm on his hyperbaric chamber this morning and oxygenated right through his normal strip writing time.
H.B.
But here's the good news:
Your creepy author feels as strong and healthy as J.D. Drew.
Susan/Circle:
Wait a second, Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, two actahs, are going to possibly play Yankees in a movie and that somehow translates to a "nightmare scenario" for Red Sox fans?
Mike:
Do the people who write that shit actually know any Red Sox fans?
Mike:
Because I couldn't give a rat's ass what Ben Affleck does.
Susan/Circle:
Seriously, Affleck and Damon and their collective broodmares could decide to join the fucking Taliban and I'd be like, "Anyone up for nahari with naan for lunch?"
Susan/Circle:
Well, there's that and the fact that Affleck and Damon have been paht of the Hollywoodifaction of Fenway and the consequent ubiquity of the pink hat crowd.
Mike:
Absolutely. The celebrity "fan" crowd has turned Fenway into just another paparazzi pit stop.
Susan/Circle:
"Oh look, Sprinkles Cupcakes, Lady Gaga dressed in meat, Katy Perry's tits, the Green Monstah!"
Mike:
Yeah, the true nightmare scenario is the turning of Red Sox Nation into a Red Sox Monarchy led by a royal family of celebrity fans.
Susan/Circle:
"The lowly working class fans are hungry? Let them eat lobster bisque."
Your omniscient author in absentia:
Hey, your humble, creepy, pseudonymous author has the day off work from today, and it going to do some autumnal rituals, like apple picking.
And, no, that's not some euphemism for something mischievous, I mean it literally, you creeps.
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree...*
Doug:
Winning is so fucking overrated.
Bill:
That's right. Soccer, bitches.
Doug:
Hands are so fucking overrated.
Bill:
Oh, and memo to Liverpudlians: Bettah put aside 10 quid for your official Liverpool FC Nation ID cahds.
Doug:
How much is that in Euros?
Bill:
Hey, it's a bahgain in any currency.
Mike:
We're not good enough to make the playoffs ourselves, but dadgummit, our ex-playahs are! Fuck yeah!
Doug:
I'm awash in civic pride.
Mike:
Since when did this morph into Youth League Soccer -- "You're all winnahs!"
Al:
Remembah when being a Boston sports fan was synonymous with fortitude and a rejection of whimsy?
Doug:
Christ, the whole friggin' New England mythos has been dumbed down and generally pussified everywhere not just sports.
Mike:
That dude isn't tough enough to captain a swan boat fercrissakes.
Al:
What this place needs is a good Cotton Mathah ass kicking.
Doug:
That's right, Al, bring the old school smite on.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
Let's pause to transition into the offseason. (Said another way: I need to have some routine service done on my car and will be thrown off my normal schedule.)
Bill:
Well, if we're not going to be in the postseason then maybe we can get Lestah to 20 wins and give him a good shot at the Cy...
Bill:
Au contraire. Putting the CHB being a pay-only firewall would a good thing, a very good thing.
Doug:
Seriously. He would be totally disappeared.
Bill:
Absolutely. When I want to pay for deception and condescension I much prefer a table dance from a winsome gal named Destiny with a spray on tan and modest implants.
