, Followers, as I was walking around the streets of Melbourne today I wrote a new song about last night's game. You can sing along with me if you'd like. It's sung to the tune of Voodoo Child by Hendrix. It goes like this....
"Jimmy Rollins was standing next to a mountain / he chopped it down with the edge of his dick and then shit down fucking throats of the Cincinatti Reds / Jimmy Rollins was standing next to a mountain / his friend Chooch took a shit in his hand and smeared it all over Dusty Baker's face and then fucked all of the player on his team's wives"
It's a little rough around the edges rhyme-wise but I've got nothing but time to work on it. I'm pretty sure I'll get a few more chances to sing it this season.
Seriously, I'm not going to throw big words at you. This game I speak of was fucking the shit! Finally a pitcher's duel that was more entertaining than Joan River's dick and a result that falls in the favor of the real men in red, The New Red Machine. The Roy Halladay / Travis Woods match up was, in hindsight, the premier head-to-header of the season thus far. The New Hot Shit verses the Stoic Bird in a true battle of penis length and girth that paid big dividends with little fireworks or cocksmanship.
Up until around the 6th inning, before the heebee-geebees started swirling around the mound every bottom half, I thought we were in store for another round of the Let's See How Fucking Worthless We Can Be With Our Bats As Halladay Slays game. Roy had given up 2 hits and zero runs but signs of life from our batting order were moot. A fucking corspe of power. He was keeping pace with the young gun and nobody was doing shit for him. But things started to get eering when Wheels started to get hot. The whispers started and the eye-brows furrowed. It lasted all the way to the very last frame of the 9th when the bottom fell out.
Travis Woods, the Reds rookie pitching his 3rd Major League start had a perfecto running on zero run support into the bottom 9th and he was scaring the shit out of me. How was this hot-shit rookie shutting down my fucking boys? He held the Phils by the throat for 8 entire innings of pure agony and embarrassment before the walls came a tumbling down. Tumbalin, tumbalin.
The man to blame for the demolition was the freshly activated Landscaper of Fucking Sanity, Carlos Ruiz. 8 fucking innings of beauty from the hands of such a fresh young stud fucking wiped from white board of history in one stroke of Choochie's bat as he smashed a double into the gap in left center. Sorry, kid. You got a lot of ball left. Not today, not here. You got nothing to be ashamed of but 3 in one year will have to wait.
Jimmy Fucking Rollins fucked around for not a second before wasting the first pitch down the fucking right field line! Echos of last year's game 4 of the NLCS were fucking careening off every inch of surface at CPB as Carlos Ruiz' little Panamanian meat stalks came bounding around 3rd to score the game's sole run and sealing the Phil's 3rd fucking walk-off win in a fucking row, the first in team history. What a fucking demoralizing series this has been for the funny little guys from Cincinatti. 3 games, all at their finger tips but snatched away by a wounded but virile Phillies side. Vote for Votto.
End Result: 1-0. F/11 Contreras gets the W for Halladays 9 innings of Shutout. Don't seem fair, do it?
Man About Town Segment!
I went to a "pub" last night where a costume party was being held by geniuses. It seems they had Beetlejuice for the Howard Stern Show bleached and flown in for the event.
Then I ran into this piece of work. She loves black people. She really wanted me to know that she loved black people. That's why she covered her skin in with brown make-up to make herself look like a black person. It's so fun meeting new people who would be murdered after being in Philadelphia for 5 minutes.
Tonight Cole Hamels gets the mound for the potential sweep against a opitcher with a 0-1 record. If this game goes into extra inning I'm going to rape myself . I hope we've learned our lessons of the last few games. Don't fucking dare bring in worthless sack of shit Brad Lidge even with a 50 run lead, lately if Jayson Werth is batting in a clutch situation cancel plans and never talk to a girl at a costume party dressed in black face if you live in a county where there are actual black people. We are a half a game behind the Mets and 2 games out of the wild card. Let's not fuck this up.
Until tomorrow, my loyal F's, auf-wiedersehen, bon voyage, fuck new york in the ass, farewell.