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Al:
Yeah, well, maybe it'll be Christmas in July.
Al:
Po' widdle wed sox with their small mahket paywoll. Sniff.
Mike:
So what the heck happened to the glass half full around here?
Al:
I think it was a trick of the light because it's looking wicked empty today.
Al:
Fucking fluorescents, you're ruinin' my summah!
Doug:
Fercrissakes we're back to seeing people use "Red Sox" and "wild card lead" in the same sentence.
Al:
Meanwhile, Josh Beckett looked like a guy who has spent the last 12 days puking and not pitching.
Mike:
Despite all this I remain firmly half-full with glassy metaphor.
Mike:
But you *are* a Doctor Who fanboy with a ginge binge.
Doug:
Don't you judge me.
Mike:
They're not the Yankees?
Susan/Circle:
You got it, bro. Does your girlfriend know how smaht you are?
Susan/Circle:
That preppy chick from sales you've been bonin'.
Mike:
What are you working for fucking TMZ now?
Susan/Circle:
"There comes a warning like a spy."
Al:
I don't fret the interleague stuff, but the streaks are a bit unnerving.
Doug:
Well, just the losing ones, right?
Mike:
Has there evah been a streakier Red Sox team?
Al:
I went to a Red Sox season and a Robert Opel broke out.
Bill:
Did you get the memo from 4?
Mike:
I have an email rule that routes the emails of any C's, VP's, and their assorted sycophants directly the trash.
Mike:
Why, did I miss something?
Bill:
Nothing but a stahk remindah that the typical workplace is overpopulated with cabals of petulant, chickenshit, fucktahds.
Bill:
Yeah, instead Gonzalez spirit we're surrounded by a whole crew of lil' Clemenses.
Mike:
But, hey, at least the Yankees fan subgroup of the fucktahd cabal is quiet these days.
Bill:
Yeah, there is that.
Mike:
Yeah, talk about your premature exasperation.
Al:
Can't Lackey get some therapy for that?
Doug:
Or at least some regulah sessions with a Real Doll?
Mike:
With the money and years left on Lackey's contract, I'm afraid it's something we're gonna have to learn to live with.
Doug:
At least when Buchholz returns, the damage from Lackey can be limited.
Doug:
Brought down by his girlfriend's vanity. LMAO.
Mike:
Osama bin Laden, check. Whitey B, check. Next?
Mike:
Yeah, the mean came along and smacked Aceves upside his regression.
Mike:
But, you know, what? I couldn't care less.
Doug:
Absolutely. I mean look around...
Doug:
Red Sox in first, there's day baseball at Fenway today, it's summah, and the girls are wearing those little sundresses with the shouldahs and freckles.
Mike:
Love the shouldahs all Robin-egged speckled.
Doug:
A summah without freckles is like a night without stahs.
Doug:
Dood, I've gotta lay off the friggin purple haze + skunk cross strain.
Bill:
Yeah, what happened this time?
Doug:
There's a fucking pandemonium in my space-time continuum...
Doug:
I mean last night, for instance, I'm watching the Sox game and in the 7th inning I see David Ortiz draw a 2 out intentionally walk and then, feverishly high on the haze-skunk, I swear I saw Ortiz come up *again* in the *same* inning!
Doug:
I know, I know... Not.Friggin.Possible.
Bill:
Yeah, well, put this in your German vaporizah and inhale it...
Bill:
The Red Sox have scored 10 or more runs in:
3 of the last 4 games
6 of the last 12 games
and 4 of the 7 games against NL opponents.
Doug:
Well, since you put it that way, scuse me while I kiss the sky.*
Bill:
You named your Real Doll "Sky"? Cute.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
I've got guests in town for the weekend +1, so my regular morning routine it out of rhythm.
Back to normal tomorrow.
Mike:
There it is, baby — 8-1 through the best teams of the AL East not wearing Red Sox.
Mike:
And let's break this mofo badassness down shall we...
Mike:
They've taken 24 out of 31 with 19 road games...
Mike:
A 100 win team playing this schedule would have been expected to go 18-13 or 19-12.
Mike:
A team playing at a 107-108 win pace in order to finish at 100 after stahting 17-20 would have gone 20-11.*
Mike:
And what did the Sox just go?
Mike:
Take it to the bridge!
Steve:
What perfect timing to be taking the hot knife though some National League butter.
Mike:
Of course once again we're getting the shaft on the so-called "designated rivals" meme... The Yankees get the .493 Mets, the Rays get the .464 Marlins and the Sox get the .629 Phillies.
Steve:
Mike, are you scared of the Phillies?
Steve:
Let's put it this way...
Steve:
If the situation right now could be encapsulated in a single Japanese fetish photograph, the Sox offense and Sox defense are the two man-steeds and the rest of the league is wearing a frilly dress and pensively waiting for something nasty to happen to it, something very nasty.
Doug:
Who knew that Canadians, renowned for being well-mannered and polite, had it in 'em.
Al:
I guess the Canucks fans are exactly what Joe Strummah had in mind when he penned "White Riot."
Mike:
Meanwhile, with the Bruins hoisting the Stanley Cup, the circle has been squared.
Mike:
What began with the Patriots in February of 2002 and then carried on through the Red Sox and the Celtics...
Mike:
Boston — the greatest sports city of the 21st Century.
Doug:
Somebody staht crackin' the lobstah, because we're on a friggin roll.
Al:
I keep telling myself, "Don't be greedy. Don't be greedy."
Mike:
Seriously. Still are in first. Still are 9 of last 10. Still have the best record in the AL.
Mike:
But the glass is still half-full.
Bill:
I'm gonna go out on a limb here...
Bill:
But something tells me the Bruins need to find a way to win in Vancouver if they plan to sip champagne from Lord Stanley's cup.
Mike:
I tell you what. Unlike the Quelle Canule, at least the Bruins have been in every game as the away team.
Bill:
Win or lose, I am looking forward to the the close out of the NHL season and a return to a 100% focus on baseball and baseball alone for the rest of the summah.
Mike:
♫ Summahtime and the livin is easy / Bats are hittin' / and the pitchahs are fine.
Bill:
♪ Oh, your payroll's rich / And your Papi's good lookin / There goes young Ellsbury / BigBri's gonna cry.
Bill:
You know, if the offense evah comes around, I think this team may end up being pretty good. Heh.
Doug:
The 2nd 10-2 stretch aftah the 2-10 nut crunchah to open the season?
Bill:
You know at the staht of this 9 game stretch with the MFYs and the Jays and Rays, I was thinking I'd be really happy to go 5-4...
Bill:
And I thought even 4-5 would be OK.
Bill:
Now anything less than 8-1 is gonna feel like a let down.
Doug:
Absolutely. This is why winning is like Chinese food... no mattah how much you have, 2 hours latah you want more.
Mike:
Go easy now... I read a comment on a creep website yestahday implying that somehow Red Sox fans taking an especial joy in beating the Yankees is evidence of a latent inferiority complex.
Susan/Circle:
Yeah, yeah, what friggin evah...
Mike:
I know typical Yankees fan desire to change the subject when they know they are getting their asses beat down.
Susan/Circle:
And the "inferiority" angle is such complete bullshit.
Susan/Circle:
I mean our dislike for the Yankees and unabashed joy in beating them isn't just about emotion, it's in our friggin DNA.
Susan/Circle:
It's Nature with a capital "N"...
Susan/Circle:
Look...Does the Jack Russell feel inferiah to the rat?
Susan/Circle:
Does the Eagle feel inferiah to the snake?
Susan/Circle:
Does the Orca feel inferiah to the seal?
Mike:
No, no, and fuck no!
Susan/Circle:
So I say, summon your innah Red Sox Jack Russell as you shake and snap the Yankee rat neck in your natural expression of joy in knowing for the first time since 1913, the Red Sox have swept two three-game series from the Yankees in New York.
Susan/Circle:
So I say, summon your innah Red Sox eagle pwnage as you swoop down and grab the Yankee snake in your talons knowing the the Sox are 8-1 against the Yankees this season and have outscored them 60-37.
Susan/Circle:
So I say, summon your innah Red Sox Orca as you toss the Yankee baby seal into the air before crushing its tendah blubbah in your mighty winnahs in 15 of the last 20 games Red Sox orca jaw.
Mike:
You, my sweetness, are one righteous, bitch.
Susan/Circle:
Kinda words have nevah been spoken.
Mike:
I don't know about you guys but I'm feeling pretty friggin Timtastic this morning.
Doug:
Absolutely. I'm totally blissed out with the happy wooziness that comes aftah first one, then anothah, multiple Timgasms.
Al:
On the earth, our opponents will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea... Behold the Timpocalypse!
Bill:
He may be a dumbass inbred redneck, but damnit, he's our dumbass inbred redneck.
Bill:
Meanwhile, tied for first and the Red Sox have taken 6 of 7 from the Yankees in thus fah in '11.
Doug:
Yeah, and yet that somehow came as surprise to me. We've really taken 6 of 7?
Bill:
Look, dude, I keep tellin' you... until you lay off the hydro it's only gonna get worse.
Bill:
Yeah, it's all fun and games now until somebody's so high they forget they've left their RealDoll in the cah with the window's rolled up on a hot summah's day.
Doug:
Hey, that's not fucking funny!
Bill:
Of course not. It's friggin Dollicide is what it is.
Doug:
I have zero tolerance for irresponsible stonahs... zero.
Mike:
Well, the Canucks still control their own destiny, the Wein? Not so much.
Al:
Hey, did last nights game remind anyone else of Pedro's 13-1 classic ovah the Yankees in the Game 3 of the '99 ALCS?
Al:
I mean in the hole 0-2, first game at home, and it's "Nuh-uh, not in our friggin house."
Mike:
Oh no doubt. And even if you go on to lose the series, these statement games definitely leave you with a memory worth savoring.
Doug:
Only if we win, guy, only if we win.
Bill:
Hey look! Lackey wasn't lacking?
Mike:
Yeah, but was this a case of Lackey being good or the A's being bad?
Bill:
Reminds me... we don't hear so much about the "genius of Billy Beane" these days do we?
Mike:
No, but wait until the Moneyball the movie comes out... starring Brad Pitt as the savant Billy.
Mike:
It's back on for Septembah release.
Bill:
OK, here's what I want to know...
Bill:
How can the stah of the book, the focal point for the entire OBP philosophy, the "Greek Gods of Walks" none othah than our own Kevin Youkilis *not* be a charactah in the friggin film?
Bill:
WTF is wrong with Hollywood anyway?
Lisa the Temp:
Did you miss me, peeps?
Lisa the Temp:
Lisa is just now returning from a long term assignment at the World Bank IMF.
Lisa the Temp:
That's right, peeps, super important world finance work.
Lisa the Temp:
It was draining...
Lisa the Temp:
I mean what an incredibly dedicated and focused bunch of people.
Lisa the Temp:
Day and night, night and day, they are relentless in pursuit of filling any void.
Lisa the Temp:
Lisa spent many a long day graciously rejecting their heartfelt overtures to inject a stimulus into the Bank of Lisa... Front door or back it's all "Knock. Knock Knock. Hello, IMF dude here... If you don't let me in Ima effin gonna huff and ima effin gonna puff and ima effin gonna value your currency down.".
Lisa the Temp:
But don't worry, peeps, Lisa knows how to keep the Fannie Mae solvent.
Lisa the Temp:
What's that? My riffs are a couple weeks past their expiration date?
Lisa the Temp:
Well, what can I say, I've been behind a firewall the past 2 months.
Lisa the Temp:
Oh, wait, that's right I need to translate that into your local dialect...
Been behind a FIAH wall.
Lisa the Temp:
Oh, c'mon now, you know you love it when Lisa favors you with a flirty neg.
Mike:
Swept (at home!) by the White Sox...
Mike:
Bruins cafucked by a Canuck with 18.5 calicks on the calock...
Mike:
I mean talk about pissing on Plimouth Rock.
Al:
I'm not happy. No sir, not happy at all.
Doug:
This is one of those days where even Tweeting my proof of arousal pics to coed followers isn't gonna cheer me up.
Bill:
They're fucking boring. That's what they are. Bore-or-or-ing.
Bill:
And I don't just mean "boring" in the simple sense, you know that of an unwelcome confinement or monotony, though there is that...
Bill:
No, I'm talking about boredom on the existential level — During a Red Sox losing streak, the condition of existence *itself* is boring.
Mike:
So it's like how Byron put it in Don Juan, Red Sox Nation "is now one polish’d horde, / Form’d of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored"?
Bill:
Not quite. The pink hattah slash talk on cellphone during the game crowd are universally immune to boredom.
Mike:
Genetic? OK but how exactly does an inability to experience boredom equate to a species advantage?
Bill:
Think about it... When the inevitable Singularity event occurs and the human race becomes subservient to our robot ovahlords, who is in a bettah position for survival —
Those with a predisposition to world-weariness and Sartrean nausea or those smiling bemusedly aftah their umpteenth consecutive hour of playing Angry Birds?