Sunday, October 17, 2010

NLCS PHI v SF Game 1. Year Of The Bitcher


This is not the fucking start we were looking to get out to, huh Followers? What are we, Texans? I wait all fucking week for this shit knowing full well that I'd have to be watching from fucking Baltimore and this is what get jizzed in my lap? Not the fucking pitching fuck-fest we were all hoping for, not one bit. Sure Halladay's NLCS debut was not of the Herculean penis shaft of his previous start and rightfully so. It's not really the fucking pitching that concerns me so much as I sit in my boxer-briefs sadly typing this. The same fucking sentiment just keeps rattling through my fucking superior brain;

The fuck.
Is.....Ryan Howard.
Fuck. is Jimmy.
Rollins doing

Poetry right? Let's not beat around the bush here with talk about band-boxes and woulda and shoulda. There is a clear reason the Phillies walked away losers. Two key motherfuckers aren't showing up for work.

First I'll rant on the Big Piece for a moment. The man with the big lumber and the large berries gets considerable frustrating as soon as the calendar flips into the cooler months of fright and mischief. Aside from his t-shirt inspiring "Get me to the plate, boys" NLDS heroics of last fall, he's done pretty much dogdick with his tool in the post-season. It's almost as if he can't be even be fucked. Why can't he fucking hit the ball in October? What the fuck is going on in this GODDAMNED WORLD!? I wonder if this frustrates him as much as it frustrates me. I sit and watch this shit happen every night of these series and all I get is a pissed and mumbling Howard walking back to the dugout with his dork in his hand. I'm no expert but I at least have pattern recognition. Something in me tells me Howard may be to proud to listen to someone suggesting that a new approach be taken when the chill rolls in. He sure isn't fucking taking one and it's fucking pissing me off!

And what the fuck is going on with J-Roll? Are the rants and raves of the drunken, almost-klansmen-esque fucksticks justified? Has he lost his fucking timing? It sure fucking looks like it and it breaks my fucking heart. Whiff, whiff, whiff, whiff, whiff...what's he fucking doing up there, trying out alternative energy sources to power Justin Beiber's hair with all that air he's cutting? How many more nights am I going to have to sit in front of douche bags in jean short and have to defend your honor, Roll? Every time you fucking step to the plate I just sound like a dickhead running rampant because I can't help myself but to utter "Here it comes, now the fucking damn breaks!!". It doesn't. We both look like assholes. Seriously, for both of us, Jimmy... shit for our kids and our kid's kids just fucking snap out of it. I got this fucking number 11 jersey. It doesn't say Valdez on the back.

All was not a wash in Phillies land, my Follwers. For all the shitty and dickloving long-balls that bald mutant Cody Ross was sending and all the actually retarded umpire's missed-calls-turned-runs I think we faired well against The Freak. I'm a little concerned that the 3 runs we touched him up for were all of the home run variety but I'll still fucking take it. For us to take a few big swats and come up big on a pitcher who proudly boasts a very, very low number (I'm not fucking looking it up) of dingers allowed makes the nuts tingle. Choochie and The Rooster showed the fuck up last night. Maybe others will follow suit.

Another bright testicle was Ryan Madson's performance last night. A very nice, reliable 1-2-3 buttfucking of 8-inning work. Too bad Lights Out doesn't work into a funny little catch-phrase or pun played on his name. Someone oughtta do that.

Also, this Brian Wilson nerd is a fucking clown. Yes, I know giants fans he did strike out some Phillies and he's a good pitcher but just fucking look at this assdick. I think he has the words "DRUG FREE", or something to that effect, tattooed to his wrist. I know a lot of girls with that tattoo. He also looks like a fucking member of Mudvayne. Yes, that is shitty. Google: Mudvayne.

Phuck it, I'm grumpy but still optimistic. It was only Game 1 and somebody told me we got 6 more of these games to play. It's a beautiful Sunday morning, I'm horribly hung-over because the only way I can play music infront of assholes anymore is to drink heavily and Roy Oswalt is getting a second chance to put his penis up the ass of many hitters tonight. I know I sound like a broken retard-record but seriously, if our slumbering lumber decides to set it's alarm we have a good chance of not getting that urge to beat our spouses into the early dawn. All-in-all I say this could be a decent Game 2. Hopefully I don't get arrested for shitting in public of something like that. 

Fuck new york, fuck Cody Ross and his goofy 13 year old face and 60 year old head, fuck Pat Burrell and GO PHUCKING PHILLIES! WAKE 'EM UP, MEN! I want the blood of this wine cooler team.


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