NLCS PHI v SF Game 5. Gas Up The Jet, Dickheads!!!!

That's right, motherfuckers! We're bringing the series back to Phucking CItizens Bank Park with big dickin' Roy Oswalt waiting in a tree-stand with his cross hairs ready to be filled with the head of that prick Cody Ross. Weee, a run on sentence. I must be excited. The Phillies Phight behind our big daddy Roy Halladay to defeat Tim Lincecum and live another day. We also get to hear that stupid fucking Kid Rock song for at least one more night. Something, could be my tingling balls, tells me we'll hear that song for a few more nights. Neon Nights.

What did everybody (including fucking me) say before the start of this series? We all said it would go to fucking 7, most said the Phillies would take it and as of now that's still very plausible. The giant wankers land in Philly to face a pitcher that's undefeated at CBP and a crowd ready to rip them limb from smarmy limb. I don't envy anyone on that team, they thought they had the balls in their mouth in sf before last night even began. At least we get a chance to have them on our turf after all their weak fans had a chance to eat the Phils alive. There is blood in the water and this Shark is ready to feast.

Seriously, fuck Pat Burrell. What a cunt. Has anyone else been noticing his vengeful demeanor throughout this series? Like that fruit has anything to be bitter about. We give that cocky shit a ring and all he can do is pull shit like jawing to Halladay after whiffing or making unsportsmanlike gestures towards the Phils any chance he can. That's actually disrespectful and I'm not one to make bones about that sort of namby-pamby horseshit. I want Burrell to fail. His flagrant ostentation's has to be punished and Chollie has to know it. His is among the many egos on that san fran team that needs checking and it's fucking time to kill.

Follower Karen sent me this photo to "modify". This is art, Karen. This is for you.

 

 

Tammy Wynette. This is classy. Too good for this D-O-R-K--F-U-C-K. 

I got really nothing to say about this nor do I think that a paint-job would have any lasting effect. Nick fucking Jr, Candyland shit.

How fucking good were Madson and Lidge last night, Followers? For real, Madson was just like "suck my bloated prikc, meat-of-the-order!" Posey, K. Piece of shit Burrell, K. Cody Gloss, FUCKING K. Domination Station. Fuck the Grateful Dead. That's right. Fuck them.

Then bad motherfucker Lidge just comes in and shatters these cunts....MAN. MANLY MAN. With the help of Werth's 9th inning fucking big cock blast Lidge has all the breathing room necessary to paint jizz all over the faces f these sf wine-cooler drinkers.

So Saturday can't come faster for me, F's. I'm really feeling this whole giants are gonna choke theory right now and how could I not? The Phillies are a play-off proven team with the last two match-ups in our favor. Oswalt beat Sanchez in Game 2 and Caine has been more banged up than Courtney Love's veins at CBP. This could be another one of those magical post-season fairy tales that the ESPN film makers cum over for decades to come. Or it could be bad. I'm feeling good, though. Our Phillies are not going down without a large-dicked sword fight with these pricks.

It's Friday, people. Let's get good and liquored up. Tug McGraw used to pitch his best games hung-over. I watch my best games the same.

Fuck new york, sf, Pat Burrell, Cody Ross and kiss your wife or partner on the pussy tonight.

JSIII

NLCS PHI v SF Game 4. A Little Bit Of Perspective

When I was 24 I was invited to my first wedding ceremony. I know, how did I manage to sidestep that bullshit for so long. It was an ex-girlfriend's sister who was to be married and the ceremony was in upstate PA near Delaware Water Gap. The wedding party was all booked into a very fancy-schmancy hotel where the reception was to take place.

The night before the wedding a few of us sat at the hotel bar placing bets on who the asshole was going to be; the one who couldn't handle the open bar and the loose morals of the reception atmosphere. Kind of a foreshadowing conversation over a snifter of expensive scotch. I didn't pay for it.

So the next day the boring wedding went off without a hitch. I had a few drinks before the ceremony so it was mildly bearable. After all the bullshit and exchanges of vows we headed back to the hotel for drinks and the stupid reception. On the way back we passed a hip-flask around the car to get things started. 

By the time we actually sat down for all the corny best-man's speeches and first dance happy horseshit my entire table was tanked. My ex, her sister, her sister's boyfriend, 2 lesbians who looked like dirty dishrags, Casey-boy from the Preston and Steve radio show and his wife. This is what I was surrounded by, a table full of potential enemies.

During one of the embarrassing speeches my ex and I start to bicker over something, probably food, and the table started to notice. That's when Casey-boy chimed in to my ex-broad.

"Hey, J, I haven't seen you in a while"

"Yeah, I think it was at your wedding, Case"

"That's right, you spent the whole entire time making out with Sean Stern"

I remember this wedding. I couldn't attend because I was having my pilonidal cyst operated on for the first time. The ex and I had been together for a good month or so, already exchanged the mushy words and were quite settled in as a couple. 

I turned to her as Casey-boy said this while drunkenly doing the math in my head. I said something like "Wait....we were already....you fucking bitch..."

Casey-boy looked genuinely astounded and sorrowful after he saw my expression. He knew he'd blown my ex's secret. His size 8 was in his mouth and he looked ashamed but still smirked like a cock. I would've, too had it been me who'd done the cover-ripping.

Now for some reason, after I called the ex a bitch for cheating on me, the whole table looked at me like I was the asshole. I flipped. I tossed my plate of shitty wedding asparagus food at one of the horse-faced lesbians and stormed out of the reception hall. The ex followed trying to explain but I was having none of it. I was screaming up a fucking nightmare about what a cheating cunt she was. I am very sensitive about infidelity. It's the one thing in the entire world that truly upsets me. That and when the Phillies lose.

All the wedding idiots were guffawing and gawking at us as I was walking off. I think I looked some bridesmaid in the face and called her a linebacker as I left. 

I made it to my car as the ex followed crying and I was still livid. Booze and the bomb-drop does not lend itself to rational thought. I think I'd called the girl every disparaging name in the book before climbing into my car and kicking the turn signal off the steering column, still enraged. 

I pulled the car out and slammed into the side of some limo. As I was about to drive off I decided that getting out of the car to scream at my girlfriend some more. I left the car where it was and followed her back into the reception. We were screaming at each other and it could not be ignored.

My ex's uncle--who looked like a 70 year old Bill Murray-- tried to intervene by attempting to get me in a head-lock but failed. I threw him into a table which collapsed from his weight.

Finally several men who worked for the hotel grabbed me and, just like a movie, tossed me down the flight of stairs that sat at the entrance of the joint. 

As I laid on the ground I couldn't help but laugh. I was the asshole who couldn't handle the open-bar, hahahaha! I was the dickhead that made a scene. I should never bet against myself.

That was a bad night. This game, last night's fucking 5-6 loss to those bay area nerds, wasn't as bad as this night I speak of. It was close but really not as bad. We'll see what happens tonight.

Fuck new york, fuck the dorks, fuck weddings and GO PHILLIES!

JSIII

NLCS PHI v SF Game 3. Take a Phucking Pill

Fuck, I don't even want to talk about yesterday's game. That was just straight up demoralizing. The thought of having to get up this morning and face another fucking day on this earth was just too much for to take so I killed myself.

Just kidding. I still don't want to talk about that fucking embarrassing thing called Game 3. I think I've never felt so ill watching a sporting event than in yesterday's case. All that nut going to waste. It's a shame.

But be still, Followers. It's seriously only 1-2. Take a deep breath and relax. We'll be OK and if not we'll stab out spouses. Until then just chill and listen to Pantera of something. If you want you can read my littel funny column in the PW here. One dude really liked it today.

That's it for today. I'm really in no mood. Moody Editor. I love you all.

JSIII

NLCS PHI v SF Game 2. I Dig The Freedom, Man

Sorry, F's for the delay in your news. Sunday night after The Phillies took game 2 with their big cocks I had to quickly and drunkenly write my Philly Weekly column. I got pretty hateful after switching from the shitty Joe Buck and Tim McCarver Gargle Used Douche Show to ESPN radio only to be inundated with Dave Duncan and that other assholemouth completely belittle every single movement the Phils made.

I got pretty raw but really, I do have to slightly hold back because my real feelings and vocabulary get the editors guillotine more often than not. The good thing is this is America and the internet is here for my colorful jizzings to be drizzled all over this here world fucking wide web.

Roy Oswalt, the man with the large cock who fucks your team up with complete and utter confidence even when he doesn't, had a hell of a game Sunday night but you wouldn't fucking now it if you were a blind man. Of his 9 strike outs I think maybe the 8th one was acknowledged in a positive light and even then it was lazy. The man with the piles of dead dear in his shed got nothing but indifference from Buck and McCarver. I actually fucking remember during an at-bat the cock-and-ball-less twin cut to a fucking reel of Cardinal's player from the fucking 40s. Yes, I understand it was to illustrate that we may be the only other NL team to ever win the pennant 3 consecutive times since the '42-44 red birds but for fucking real, dickhead. I'm surprised one of their taped episodes of fucking Top Chef didn't accidentally flash across the screen for a few seconds as they bumbled through another piss-poor inning of droll and banal banter. How do these men still get paychecks for this "work"? 

It's not like I'm screaming at the wind here, I'm not alone in my feelings. I did a survey of 40,000 internet people and 38,956 of them said that they feel the duo would benefit from a few classes at the Connecticut School of Broadcasting and a hoagie, yo. Maybe they could live on that island with Tim Robbins and that tennis ball, Spalding and collect their thoughts before they speak. 4 years should be enough time for them to come up with something useful.

I kid, I kid, they have families that love them and would miss them but those same family members should let their relatives know they suck the balls of big animals when put in front of a mic.

Then after I get fucking fed up of those two I decide to jam the game on the radio like people did in the 90s only to be bombarded by even larger sperm whales on ESPN radio. You know the guys, whatshisname and dickformouth. I turned to these dismissive cocksmokes just in time for J-Fucking-Roll to bash that 3-run double off the wall only to be told it wasn't his sheer power and talent that scored those runs, it was mental errors by the giants. I was honestly filled with the rage. I probably would've gone to jail if I was in pissing distance of these men at that particular time. I am a very serious man when it comes to J-Roll. He probably is my favorite player still to this day. Fuck all that slump talk, he's the man that keeps the sheets off the kloset-klansmen that sometimes litter out neighborhoods and the glue that keeps that team together. I'll fucking verbally rifle you any day of the week on the merits of Rollins and no not the singer from the Chile' Peppers.

My point? Fuck these people and their flippant and ignorant attitudes toward out Phils is what makes the world a shitty place. Even when we play great they shit on us. Fuck them and the laurels they rode in on. Fightin's rule, OK?

See, I could never say any of that in a liberal fishrag. It feels great to just type with no real thought, just plain rage and beauty. This is why you come to me. Because I hate so much but I really love you all. This is a great time of year and I wish I could be high-5ing every one of you fucking assholes during these games but I can't. I gots ta make the donuts.

I have to go  now because I have a new shitty job which doesn't entail grooming a donkey. The few of you that read this tomorrow should take comfort in the fact that we're experiencing what 26 other cites wish they were but aren't and we've been doing it for 4 years running. Well, 3 years to this point in the play-offs. Go out and slap a dude on the ass, feel good about nature. Whatever.

Fuck new york like I always say and express yourselves creatively. Also fuck Cody Ross, again.

JSIII

NLCS PHI v SF Game 1. Year Of The Bitcher

FUCK!

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;

Where.
The fuck.
Is.....Ryan Howard.
And.
What.
The.
Fuck. is Jimmy.
Rollins doing
OUT THERE, man?

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.

JSIII

More Phan Mail

You know, Followers, it's really a shame that I don't have 25 hours in the day to answer the piles and piles of Phan Mail that I receive by the truck-load. It really is. You'd figure that being unemployed would lend itself to such luxuries, right?

This was sent to my friends at The Philadelphia Weekly concerning the first of my many columns to come about our fine Phils.

I'm 62YO and have been reading your publication for many, many years. I obviously enjoy it. I'm not a negative person but I felt compelled to write you about your article in the 10/6-10/12 2010 issue by John Sharkey III. I curse as much as anybody but the gratuitous profanity in that piece was utterly ridiculous. It added absolutely nothing and was a huge deterrent. When Tim Whitaker was with you he tried to be too cute with profanity also but it never bothered me enough to correspond. Profanity has it's place when used intelligently but this was against the pale..just terrible.

Scott77659@aol.com

Well, for a 62 "YO" person you sure have the creepy craigslist lingo conquered so I'll reply in a style in which you're fluent....

28YO SW m4wmt. I'm 5'10" 180 lbs replying to your letter. Looking for readers not offended by childish obscenities, especially those who feel compelled to write letters to the editor of a weekly publication that pays less than you do for sex. I'm 420 friendly, D/D free and deeply sorry you were turned-off by my writing. What I'm really looking for is a versatile readership not upset by metaphors related to anal sex and large male genitalia. This might be asking a lot, I understand hehehe. Sense of humor is a must if you wanna tango with me! Enjoy yourself, it's the play-offs and our Men are kicking ass. Don't worry so much about obsenities as you would the starting rotation. Is Blanton our number 4 guy? Will they start Hamels in game 2 or 3? What about our offense? Do you think Howard's bat will wake up after laying dormant during the last 3 post-seasons? Will Jimmy snap into destructor-mode? These things are much more important to the well-being of our society than postulating over a few poo-poo and pee-pee jokes. Come on, man!!! What kind of grown-ass 62 year old gets upset by obsenities? Get your head out of yer ass and into the game! Party with me! Can host, must send pics with all replies, will reciprocate. GO PHILLIES!!!!!!

s_isforspace@yahoo.com

JSIII

A Shameful Plug

You see this picture of me chilling with Jesus? Now, you see the shirt I've got on here, Followers? Well, my friends Hershel and Jorge at Mongoloid Tees flowed me today when I was walking home from Whole Foods like a real white person. They have other designs almost more exciting than plain text on a blank shirt for sale here! With fickle player unions having baby-boners over every Tom, Dick and Hymen with a printing press, throwing around terms like "intellectual property" you'd better get on the horse quick. These shitters may be clothing the homeless before those dorks in panda headgear no what hit 'em.

Booyah.

JSIII