7.11.2005

Bleep Bleep - July 11th



Wooo. Happy f*cking All Star Break. Give me a second to actually give a sh*t.

OK, so some boy genius called me out on my comment last time about Delgado being the 2nd best first baseman in the National League. Seems I totally forgot about Derrek Lee, some flash-in-the-pan pill-popping slapmaster playing so far over his head he's getting clipped by 747s and Sputnik. Yeah, like some no-talent ragweed suddently hitting .380 with almost 30 homers by the f*cking All Star break is worth the time of day. The only Triple Crown this guy's going for: Human Growth Hormone, Andro, and good ol' fashioned needle-in-the-ass steroids. This isn't some case like Andruw Jones finally getting off a lapdance and actually playing ball. This is some no-talent dink finding his way into Sammy Sosa's Tang and turning into the Iron F*cking Shiek getting all Camel Clutch on you piece of sh*t infidels. Betcha he has 20 of those HRs against the Reds and Danny Graves. HEY A-HOLE - WAY TO BE WITH THE HOMERS IN NEW YORK! Hope your health insurance covers you sucking like a two-bit d*ckjockey. Happy Endings for everyone! F*cktard.

Of course, Lee plays for Chicago, where the mob and the mayor play the f*cking town like a rigged shell game. Oh, where's the grift? Where's the corruption? Where's the 192 dead bodies? Ha - wrong! You lose, McFly! You got a f*cking Cub turning into Babe Ruth out of the blue, you got the f*cking White Sox (please) playing 392 games over .500 like they can actually do something, and you got no-talent *ssclowns like Ozzie Guillen and Dusty Baker flapping their jowls like monkeys banging on f*cking Smith-Coronas. Forsooth and odsbodkins, wang-tards, for thy crap rolls downhill past people that know better and right back into your f*cking mouths, you spew-spitting nutmunchers. Moo, b*tches.

So this is big fancy All Star Break time. Lah dee freaking dah. Excuse me while I go palpate my buttocks in f*cking excitement over the notion of seeing two mental midgets square off in a battle of Who Can Burn Through The Most Piece of Sh*t Players First. Yeah, it sure counts this time. Too bad it needs to take off its shoes to get past the 5th inning. (It's a deep joke, f*ckwit. Try reading a book without pictures sometime.) Me, I can't wait until I'm making time w/ some f*cking St. Ides while the cast of Mad TV mushmouths their way through some dumbsh*t story about Danys Baez's bris or A-Fraud's vestigal snatch. "Oh, and Alex was so brave to get some duct tape on that, so he could go through life with some sense of normalcy." "Yes indeed Josephina. And now, here's footage of me sucking on a pig's nipple." G*d help me I'd rather watch Barbara Walters felch Larry King than watch Buck's horseteeth escape his f*cking mouth like prison inmates. And that f*cking forehead, g*ddamn - I've seen diamonds that don't shine that bright. Lay off the Turtle Wax, mantit.

As for who I'd want in the All-Star Game? Who gives a sh*t? Talk to Dibs or some other amped-up mouthbreather if you want to ask dopey sh*t like that. Oh no Derek Jeter won't be able to give the fine women of Detroit the clap this week. Too f*cking bad. Instead we have to watch Scott Polish Sausage spaz like a 5-year-old, like he has to pinch a loaf or some crap. Assuming he can actually get the bat through the strike zone. And oh no Pedro Martinez is wussing out of the game because he's a big p*ssy wuss and can't throw more than 10 pitches a game. Best starter of his generation my d*ck. Go hang out w/ Tattoo, you curly little b*tch. Yeah, try throwing at a REAL player, see how quick that juice gets slapped out of your perm. (Yeah, that's right, I'm calling him out AGAIN. I'd like to see him do something about it! Come on, Eriq LaSalle - bring the f*cking pain!)

Maybe Clemens and Pizza will actually man the f*ck up and have it out over that namby-pamby bat-tossing garbage. "Oooh, look at me, I have boobs the size of Texas - watch as I throw this sharp piece of lumber at a defenseless hitter! I am a sure-fire Hall of Famer! Don't mind me while I bankrupt the franchise from my homef*ckingtown so my wife can pop out another 15 kids I can give names starting with K because I am a strikeout pitcher ha ha ha ha! Goo goo g'joob, Kolonel Klink!" Yeah, that'd be a meeting of the minds. Watch out Nobel Laureates - here comes A CATCHER! "I'm not gay! I just like growing my beard in a fancy braid, and listening to gay ass sh*t like Creed and Toby Keith because I'm a raging heterosexual! I'm going to have my wife's lesbian lover pierce my nipples, because I am all man oh yeah! Love me and my meaty haunches! CALL ME, CARSON!" Coming up next: Jose Lima and Keith Hernandez on preventing f*cking STDs by chopping off your sore-ridden mansnout.

Oh, G*d, I feel like Kruk farted up my ass. Who the f*ck told me that mayo was good? I knew that green sh*t wasn’t pesto. G*d damn it, Ravech. You're gonna get it like Sharon Tate, you snotshot. If this post sucked, blame him and his 16 IQ. Until next time - enjoy the f*cking tee-ball, ladies.

2 Comments:

Blogger Ryan said...

forsooth, those monkeys were funny. they'd get the bard's words eventually.

2:18 AM

 
Blogger Ryan said...

also a great soul-glo reference.

2:21 AM

 

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