Thursday, February 24, 2011

What Metallica Record Is Roy Fucking Halladay?

As I sit here basking in the glory of the Fightin's first fucking game/victory of the Spring Exhibiton against the FSU Semens, I thunk it no more a better time to start part 1 of my 5-installment piece comparing each pitcher of the 2011 rotation to one of the first 5 Metallica records. Yeah, I know they only got better after that but I just have no frame of reference since I wasn't dying my beard pink and moshing alone in mall parking lots after high school.

We of course fucking start out with Roy Fucking Halladay. This one was a toughey because I could've gone a few ways with this. After serious thought and arduous delineation (5 minutes at work, daydreaming) I decided that the 'Tallica jammer that most suited our top cat's everything was that 1986 masterpiece, Master Of Fucking Puppets. It's seriously, in my humble opinion, the true stand-out of the Holy First Five. It's heavy, accomplished, epic, beautiful and perfect. If you can't see the parallels you're a fucking dickhead. After all, Roy is the Master.

Like a Halladay start, Master's first cut, Battery, opens gracefully yet forebodingly with a ominous acoustic guitar intro. If you play this song in real time to the first inning by the time the gentleness of the intro ends and the fucking pure mayhem and bashing begins you usually are watching a hapless lead-off hitter getting his balls kicked in by some serious fucking heat, walking away dejected and scorned by a Halladay fist-fuck. Brutality. BATTERY!

No, things don't get much easier as the second and third innings go by as Roy continues to fucking waylay the competition to the title track of this fine album. An epic tale of substance abuse and despair barrels along like a fucking freak train to Hades (that ride must suck balls. Ask that useless dicksmoke, Pat Burrell), Master Of Puppets almost defines musically the Halladay game. It's melodic and veracious, taking no motherfucking prisoners. There's even apart in the middle of the tune where it slows down for a second only to lull you into a false sense of security as you are tossed back to the wolves of the heavy breakdown. James Hetfield pleads "MASTER, MASTER!! WHERE'RE THE DREAMS THAT I'VE BEEN AFTER??!! I assure you right fucking now this sentence goes through Jose Reyes' head as his hopes and dream are shattered for the 4th time of the night. Kick ass.

The 3rd track, The Thing That Should Not Be, was definitely written about the run that sometimes happens in the middle of the game when Halladay starts  drifting off and thinking about his fantasy team.

Sanitarium closes out side A and pretty much sums up the feeling any opposing manager as he watches his boys get mowed down by Halladay's Viet-Cong esque gunfire. "Who am I?" or "Life is shit, why am I here?" and totally "Roy's beard is fucking perfect..." The toll this kind of battle takes on a General is heavy. The beatings are severe and can make a motherfucker go insane. Insane snakes and shit, evil metal looking horses carry your fucking brain away. You are fucked and the record is only half-way done. Can you imagine how Dusty Baker feels?

I'm not really gonna keep fucking going making stupid analogies to each track, that would take all night. I don't have that time and Roy knows it. He fucking works quick and so did Metallica. Just like a Halladay start comes and goes in a whirlwind of fucking terror and bliss, so does Puppets. BAM, BAM, BAM!!!... then its fucking done and your pants are down and your mouth is dry and your balls are stuffed in your butt. It's intense.

I leave you now with footage of what the 9th inning of a Halladay game sounds like in my head; the finale' of the album, Damage Fucking Inc. Check out the date on this clip. Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude... let's get wasted!!! It's also from their tour with Ozzy Oswalt.

Up next in a few fucking days, Followers, I'm gonna do the Cliff Fucking Lee comparison. Can you guess which record he's gonna be? I'll give you a hint, it's not fucking Stanger. Yeah, that's how I say it so that's how I'll fucking spell it. I know you all thought this might be the Lee record with the whole "Cliff 'Em All" thing going on but you were wrong. It makes sense, you'll see.

Fuck new york and see your mother put to death. See your mother die.


Monday, February 21, 2011

Top Ten Thing Joe Blanton Could Be Doing Besides Pitching On My Team

I'm just gonna come out and say it bluntly; I think Joe Blanton is a pretty shitty pitcher. Not "the best 5-hole pitcher in the league" or an "innings-eater" of any of the other soft terms bandied about by the Daily News writers and Missanelli callers to make Joe feel a little less inadequate pitching behind the 4 Horsemen. I think he stinks. I'm not saying the guy wouldn't be awesome to do 9 tequila shots with and fucking terrorize a cul de sac with, I bet the dude is a sweet, genuine dude with nothing but love in his heart to impart to his fellow man. I am plainy and simply fucking sick of him pitching in a Phillies uniform.

Last season Bologna Joe went 9-6 with a 4.82 ERA, which in itself is pretty garbagio on paper, but these numbers hardly hint at the glacier of frustration he caused me last year. The ERA can't lie but the record can. I would say had Joey pitched for, say, the Royals, his record woulda been something like 8-11 based solely on the hunch that since he wouldn't have an all-star cast behind him that he wouldn't have a crew to clean up his messes. A good Bullpen and a mercurial but decent 2010 Phils offense turned a lot of loses into N/D's. 

                                                    The all too common sight.

Remember the game last season in September against the Nationals that Werth (who?) smoked his monstrous, MLB network highlight reel walk-off with 2 outs in the bottom 9th to preserve out 3 game lead over ATL in the standings? That was a Blanton game. Fucker gave up a 2 run homer to MIKE MORSE, scrubbest of the scrubs to set us back 3 runs for the last half of the game. I wanted to fuck a hole in the sky.

Yep and remember last July when we swept the Reds in a 4-gamer just before the ASB?  Do you remember the game that Big Phucking Piece and Cody Fucking Ransom went yard to turn a 1-7 deficit into a 9-7 large-cocked victory for the Fightin's? Yeah, that was Joe, too. Fucking hair dwindling, vomit inducing ball-bag strangling agony.

Instead of jabbering off about the Dodgers game he fucking beefed it to that lead way to the infamous annual Choochie clowning of Jonathan Broxton in a 8 run comeback ( yeah, you fucking remember), I'm gonna give you the goods and deliver what the title of this post promises.

Top Ten Things Joe Blanton could Do Instead Of Pitching for The Phillies

10. Opening up a delicatessen that specializes in vegan cuisine called NO CHEESE.

9. Meatball Chef at Maggianos! Get it.... meatballs?

8. Style Consultant for the band Nickelback.

7. Contestant on Ru Paul's Drag Race 4!

6. The Lunch Lady in an off-Broadway production of the movie Billy Madison.

5.  The butler in Jayson Werth's 121 million dollar trailer, womp womp womp...

4. Firing on crowds in Lybia. Oooooooow, topical!

3. Cock-blocking the "Snitchuation" (worthless mets fan) at Karma.

2. Captain of the Australian Cricket Team. 

1. Pitching for the mets!!! BLLLLAAANNNNNAAAHHHH!!!!!!! (horns and shit)

Look, I'm honestly not trying to hurt big fella's feeling or talk bad about one of our boys on the odd chance that he reads this awesome Clog, I'm just trying to exercise the JB of 2010 demon. I really got nothing but love for Joe and I'm just joshin' with this hinky list. I hope this cunt comes out of the shoot and gets more wins than any or all of our beloved Horsemen. I want him to succeed. I want him to be able to give everyone the fucking finger that talked about him as the 5 of Chubbs to the 4 Aces. I want him to fucking dominate, to eviscerate and annihilate the competition. I want Bazooka Joe not Sloppy Joe. I want the world for this cat. I just hope my dreams can facilitate his excellence, kind of like the movie Inception. No, I have never seen fucking Inception.

Buck up, Blanton. Knock 'em dead. PLEASE.

Who gives a shit, he'll probably be traded before the break anyways. Fuck new york and Ladies, shave your Beibers.


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Sharkey's Back, Phuckos

Ahhh, Followers... Can you phucking smell it, taste it, PHEEL IT????!!!! The moist green grass underfoot, the leather oil glistening on your mitt, the stench of dogshit in your cleats that you always seem to mistake for Joe Blanton's repertoire?

That's right, motherfuckers, I'm fucking back and so is America's (The good one) national pastime. The proverbial sun is rising over a wounded and fragile Philadelphia, still in recovery of last year's Ryan Howard frozen penis and another Eagles season derailed by a first-round bouncing at home. What a fucking relief. I, for one, am sick of beating the fuck out of my fucking wife and swearing into the frigid winter winds in discontent. My balls are cold and my heart is yearning. Let's play some motherfucking baseball, Men!

It's been an interesting winter, huh, F's? Some tall dufuss named Clifton Phipher decided to not suck the dick of Satan and signed with the Fightin's. Wonder how that one will turn out. It sure must feel uncomfortable being the new guy with all th heavies we got in our rotation this year, the "4 Horsemen" and all. Joe Blanton, Kyle Kendrick, the Ball Girls for Runnemede, NJ. It's looking fierce.

The Clog this year, F's, will follow pretty much along the same lines as last year; a dairy of my life revolving around the Only Team That Matters. The only sizable difference I can see would be the amount of swearing being upped and the girth of my Hoagies Of Heat.

In the next few weeks leading up top opening day (apart from tracking team progress) I'll also slowly bring you up to speed on what I, your beautifully sculpted and chiseled Editor, have been doing with myself in these American States over the last few inactive months. Don't forget that I was in no-man's land, buttfuck Canberra last winter when I got the wild hair up my ass to start this blasted thing. This one has been a tad bit more interesting than last but, then again, watching a corpse rot beats a Canberra summer/ our winter. Good Golly , Miss Molly I'm on extacy! Rub my face and back!!!

My Spring Training coverage will contain a few features that most Phillies news outlets will not, including and not up to:

1.  A Top Ten List Of  Things Joe Blanton Could Be Doing Besides Pitching For My Baseball Team ala Letterman.

2. A Fucking "Vlog" From My New Job (feat. interviews with 70 year olds and Puerto Ricans on the upcoming Phillies season)

3. A Five installment piece on "Which Phillies Starter Is What Metallica Record?" (1st 5 only)

4. Pictures of me (clothed, sober)

5. Videos of my heathen scum neighbors that call their kids "asshole fuckfaces" constantly. Rare footage of true cunts.

6. No facts at all, ever.

7. In-the-filed coverage from Yours Truly and our favorite Irish bag of white pudding, Chuck Meehate. we'll both be down in Clearwater for the live action and donkey shows with Chooch.

Look at that content. That's just Spring Training. By the looks of this agenda it'd probably be a good idea to keep some vaseline around for the next 8 months because you are about to be butt-fucked by seriously the hardest Phils talk around the globe. Things will probably be posted slowly as I am getting back into the swing but by Opening Day.... you better believe it's phucking on!

OK, shitheads. I'm going back to real life for a few hours. Don't forget who brings you the crudest Phillies responses and reactions with the wit to match, wontcha? It's a brand new year and a brand new reason to not die. Until next installment.......



P.S. There will be way more typos this year, as well. Deal with it. See yous in a few.