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Lisa the Temp:
Good morning, peeps.
Lisa the Temp:
Lisa's a little down in the dumps today.
Lisa the Temp:
Yes, it's true, even me, your vivacious temp, can get a touch of the melancholy.
Lisa the Temp:
And you're curious, right, you're thinking, "Oh, Lisa, can you tell me your pain?"
Lisa the Temp:
Well, it's like this...
Lisa the Temp:
Yesterday I got a call saying Nate Silver needed a temp for some important work.
Lisa the Temp:
I know, how cool is that, right?!
Lisa the Temp:
But at 2am this morning Nate Silver sent me a text that read "It's 658 am, and I won't need you today" which I read at precisely 658am.
Lisa the Temp:
I know, right?
Doug:
You've been waiting all morning to say that, haven't you?
Bill:
Yeah, I thought of it in my room.
Doug:
And it made you smile?
Bill:
Nah, because I just wasn't made for these times.
Mike:
Yeah, but if I had a dollar for every prophecy of the Yankees' imminent demise, I'd have enough to buy a second Real Doll.
Bill:
Are Real Dolls covered undah ObamaCare as part of sexual well-being therapy?
Mike:
No, but their birth control is fully covered.
Bill:
Excellent, because Ramona the Real Doll and I have discussed it at length, and we've decided we'd like to adopt.
Al:
Yeah, I think that same guy signed John Lackey.
Doug:
But, don't worry, James also insists it's not a jeremiad.
Al:
Really? If comparing the state of the game to "a hardening of the arteries" which "kills us all sooner or later" is not a jeremiad, then I must not be clear on the definition.
Mike:
Yeah, it's hahd to say without seeing the whole piece, but I think Pinto does a good job laying out an alternative, positive view.
Doug:
Absolutely, and I'll add that James' pointing to kids no longah playing baseball "in an empty lot with rocks and pieces of junk to mark the bases" as supporting evidence of the decline is pretty weak tea.
Doug:
I mean kids today are so friggin mandated by hyper-organization that their parents schedule play dates for fuck's sake. There's no time for or concept of kids just hanging out and winging it anymore whether its pickup baseball, football, or just riding around on bikes looking for mischief.
Mike:
But I don't even know if that's a bad thing in and of itself.
Mike:
The kids are always alright.
Doug:
Nothing like dropping $10 mil on a guy who just turned 32.
Mike:
Wait, what? Do I detect a hint of optimism.
Doug:
Well, I'm not really optimistic, but I'm not pessimistic neithah.
Doug:
Is there a word for that?
Al:
I'm sure there is in German.
Doug:
Seriously, there's a word for everything in German.
Mike:
Yeah, even our creepy time together becomes a Verbesserungsvorschlagsversammlung.
Al:
Just hearing that makes me feel tallah.
Bill:
Remembah this oldie but goodie?
♫ Over the red states, and thru the desert
♫ To Curt Shilling's house they go;
♫ The GM knows the way at then end of the day
♫ To end 86 years of woe
Mike:
Sigh. Good times, very good times.
Bill:
And we'll always be thankful.
And this begins Thanksgiving break. This creepy strip will return on Monday 11/26. Have a great Thanksgiving holiday everyone!
Doug:
What's the Thanksgiving Special this year, Arturo?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Turkey sausage on a bed of crispy matchstick leeks with a touch of cranberry mayo relish.
Doug:
You know the Red Sox are in disarray, Gronk has a broken ahm, and Israel and Hamas are going mano a missile but you, Arturo, you always give me hope.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
In the end, it's all about showing up and being thankful for what we have.
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
But, as far as I know, Brachen is sticking around.
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
Except for Fridays at least.
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
So, Ted, I'm assuming you're going to need some time off today to stock up on Ding Dongs, right?
Mike:
Might be interesting to use him at first.
Al:
I don't like what'd do to my waistline, though... I mean every time he'd come up to bat I'd think of pizza napoletana, and once I think of pizza napoletana then I must have pizza napoletana.
Doug:
Seriously. The most convincing argument for the existence of God? Pizza and Chianti.
Mike:
What about cannoli?
Al:
Take the God, leave the cannoli.
Bill:
But the joke's on them because we got John Friggin Farrell.
Doug:
That's right, bitches, Ben Cherington is the fucking man with the fucking plan.
Doug:
I'm happiah than an army general in the midst of a flirtatious email exchange.
Bill:
Seriously. What could go wrong?
Rider on Green Line:
Your creepy author here on life's rich trolley...
Rider on Green Line:
No, I haven't abandoned you but I overslept this morning (after another severe bout of insomnia which has been pretty much every night since the time change) and then when I awoke I found my internet was down and I was on the phone with Verizon for 30 minutes getting it fixed.
Rider on Green Line:
On the insomnia issue, I have a prescription from my doc for some la-la land pills but I've been too afraid to take them, so far, as they are of the "you may awake, don a tuxedo, cook a meatloaf, Shamwow a dog, and have no recollection of it later" variety and I prefer to keep my drugs to the natural variety (wink) most of the time.
Rider on Green Line:
But I think tonight is the night I give those loop-the-loop pills a shot. I may have no recollection of Hart Brachen in the morning, though, so you have been warned.
Lisa the Temp:
Thanks to all the veterans for their service and sacrifice.
Lisa the Temp:
Yes, peeps, Lisa has a serious side.
Lisa the Temp:
And Lisa has a Confidential security clearance and is consequently eligible to temp for the DoD, the DoE, and the DoJ.
Lisa the Temp:
Ask not what the country can do for a temp, ask what a temp can do for the country is what I say.
Lisa the Temp:
Here's the thing about being a temp, peeps, we know things.
Lisa the Temp:
Office workers think, "Oh, it's just the temp, and she'll be gone tomorrow or the next day."
Lisa the Temp:
They get complacent.
Lisa the Temp:
But see it's like this, peeps, we temps are like those Iranian kids in Argo piecing together shredded documents.
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
Well, I've got a friend who's got a friend...
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
And word is Brachen is mulling it over.
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
Yeah, he's got his mofo mull on.
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
A final decision is forthcoming.
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, short guy speaks:
The people have spoken.
Two guys walking, tall guy speaks:
And now this shit's gonna get serious.
Lisa the Temp:
You know what you need to do, peeps.
Lisa the Temp:
Vote early.
Lisa the Temp:
Vote often.
Bill:
Ladies & Gentlemen, Boys & Girls, the designated hittah, David Ortiz.
Bill:
You know I was somewhat skeptical about the soundness of resigning him, but now that's it's done I couldn't be happiah.
Bill:
I just pissed myself.
Doug:
Mayor Bloomberg hates hungry people!
Al:
Who knew the Mayan Apocalypse would feature a prequel.
Mike:
Seriously, the prequel stahted in Septembah 2011 with the fatal and unrecoverable collapse of the Red Sox and it's just been one jump cut to the next evah since.
Doug:
Hey, you can say what you want about the Mayans, but that they were kind enough to knit the 2004 and 2007 World Series victories into the final chaptahs of mankind's existence, well, that shit goes a long way with me.
Al:
So if the Mayans have been controlling everything all along, does that mean that when it ends we go to their version of the afterlife?
Doug:
Yep, where the streets are paved with milled corn and mezcal.
Mike:
And remembah the warning of the iguana—"Don't squeeze the Shaman."
