Like a cicada, I pop out of the earth once every couple of years to yell “fuck you” at the rest of the world, then burrow back down to gather my distastes and reformulate. Those of you reading this right now may not even know who I am, just as I am unaware of a majority of the authors on this site. To summarize for those who haven’t been following the Fightins’ for as long as others, I’m a hate filled recluse, someone who uses AIDS jokes as a crutch, and I rely on my blue-balled perversion as a means to escape and distort others’ reality. And I love Chris Wheeler.
On a recent trip to Disney World, I noticed a disturbing trend (besides the slack-jawed yokels, their dumbass kids, and the perpetual bat wings that plagued me in the brutal Florida heat). Most people reading this are Phillies fans who live in the Delaware Valley, so Phillies apparel on strangers is the norm. So whilst in Florida I was initially proud to see so many Phillies shirtseys. But like a seasoned bukkake actor, they kept coming. Five, ten, there were days when I saw twenty different people in Phillies gear. Was it possible that the entire Philadelphia area was on vacation? Not likely. I barely even saw any Yankees shirtseys, even though they are a team synonymous with merchandise whoredom.
This lead me to a realization: The Phillies are becoming the new Red Sox.
Being the dick in America’s tight little asshole is a role most Philadelphians are accustomed to. It’s an honest line of work. Beer bottles to the head, brutally attacking Mets fans, throwing up on children, and drunk teens endangering the lives of all those around them on Dollar Dog Night. As George Carlin once said, “all very necessary activities, by the way”. I’d rather hear a story about some Phillies fan shitting in a nun’s mouth than whisperings of Fever Pitch 2 staring Will Smith. America’s dick (Phillies) is a far better thing than America’s forced sweatheart (Red Sox). The Phillies are becoming too likable and cutesy. Many of us now realize that not everyone hates us. That the Phillies are a national story, and many are following the team because of the likeability of the players. The Phillies stadium has become a playground for babies and tourists, a friendly atmosphere exists on Broad Street. That friendliness is killing what was once a unique atmosphere to witness a sporting event. Philadelphia has to get its fucking edge back.
Many, if not all of you, will disagree with me. This viewpoint is immature, inhumane, or stupid. Those of you who believe this are also likely to believe that Denis Leary and Jimmy Fallon should not be euthanized, just for being such annoying little shits.
But this comparison is not a call to violence, just an end to becoming too cutesy. People like to say what makes Philly great is it’s passion, fan’s knowledge, or some other queer proclamation made by a mayor looking to get reelected or a coach looking to open a restaurant. I think what makes Philadelphia great is the potential for dangerous, obnoxious fans. It keeps you on your fucking toes. It’s what makes us human. People around me (I was born and grew up in South Jersey, but now I live outside of the Philadelphia area) always say “Oh, your a Phillies fan, that means you hate the Mets, right?”.
No, I’m a Phillies fan, that means I hate everybody. Fuck you, national media. Your interest in Philly shall not go the way of Red Sox Nation. *stands outside door, waiting for a reporter, molotov cocktail in hand*
*Due to the complexities of good and evil, I have finally decided to stop posting pictures of Katy Perry’s tits. Her mindless, destroyer-of-intelligent-thought brand of singing finally surpassed the good her tits were doing. She is no longer a relatively famous big jugged singer, but a famous singer who happens to have big jugs. Non-shitty pop star titties after the jump:
What a great year for the boys. With the massive amount games players missed due to injuries, lineup shuffling, and new faces all around, they did good. It’s a great accomplishment in itself to achieve such great chemistry and healthy camaraderie given such daunting circumstances. Back to back to back NLCS appearances? Wowza, this team is the new Big Red Machine. What a treat for us fans.
Complacency and twat stroking like this is not what this team should strive for. The Chris Wheelers of the world spew this wretched shit; fuck them. Fuck the pussyboy PR mavens and former player, double-digit IQs analysts. This is the mantra of the Spadaronian Eagles fans, and I won’t accept it. This shit is beneath the Phillies.
This is a franchise that has, for the most part, been defined by losses. 10,000 losses was celebrated, not remanufactured into something stupid by Eagles SS Agent Dave Spadaro. There is some twatwaffery perpetuated by that guy who used to work for 6ABC, but the new Phillies want rings, not ‘appearances’. Fat Andy, the king of the PR twat waffles, strives for an efficient team, not a great team. Give me Roy Halladay on the other side of 30 becoming the supraman, not low-salaried potential. No one cares about mediocrity. No one cares about the 2nd guy to fuck that hot jailbait from that show broads like.
But there are shit stains on the red pinstripes, and they must be wiped ( or in Howdy’s case, rinsed; I like to shower after shitting).
-Chooch: Señor Octubre, you cool. No major issues.
-Ryan “Black Lava” Howard: You were the only person to hit for average this postseason. Low on the dingers department, though. B-
-Chase Utley: Your injury history makes me think you spend your off days riding a Wild Wacky Action Bike
-Jimmy Rollins: I may proudly wear your shirtsey (along with Ryan Howard’s; I only wear black dudes shirtseys), but you need to stop smelling your own ballsmoke because you won an MVP award years ago.
-The guy with the big head: Shockingly, an improvement over Abraham Nunez and Pete Happy at 3rd base.
-Jayson Werth: Stop sniffing your ballsmoke too, buddy. Yes, your facial hair is wildly ironic/hipster-like and you wear tall tee jerseys, but 2009 is looking like an anomally.
-Shane Victorino: More coke and steals, less gay Ed Hardy shirts.
-Raul Ibanez: Help mentor Dom Brown (*’Tard considers buying Dominic Brown shirtsey*)
-Starting pitchers: First of all, H2O is the queerest shit I’ve ever heard. The next person who uses that nickname is getting cunt punched. Aside from that, Halladay is Jeebus Christ, Hamels is returning to what we thought he was, and Oswalt is a great #3. But for me, every Joe Blanton start is a collective Eric Milton sigh of “oh fuck…”. Is Moyer still alive/the #5? Good for Grampy.
-Relievers: Pitch better (I know, my advice is too specific). Also, FREE OOGY!
-Chuckles Manuel: You started Blanton against San Francisco. The fuck?
Win in 2011, bros. I won’t be satisfied until that happens. That, and the day Katy Perry’s titties finally reveal themselves and Josh Hamilton’s entire family contracts AIDS from his left over heroin needles.
Happy Halloween, here are some lung pumpkins:
After suffering through the brutally anonymous announcers of the NLDS on TBS, we are now subject to Tim McCarver and Joe Buck. Tim McCarver is a fucking cartoon, and the epitome of bland commentary. Really, Tim, Shane Victorino runs fast? Balls, that’s insightful. I can live with ignoring you, you’re just a stupid bumpkin (As a side note: Any grown man that refers to someone named Tim as Timmy or call themselves Timmy is a fucking pussy). Tim McCarver is like the grandparent you don’t call because their pre-dementia conversation is unenlightening. Nursing home Timmy is avoidable.
Joe Buck is a major fuckin’ clog in my brain’s ability to enjoy the auditory signals beaming from my TV. The ultimate corporate stooge, sucking the cock of Rupert Murdoch’s FOX (during this Internet age, anyone without a firewall can see a fox’s cock being sucked, jack it, and go back to work. That’s what 15 minute breaks are for). I don’t want to hear an empty shell of a commercial skank like Joe Buck on his knees for 3 hours reminding us “It’s a good day for Philadelphia sports fans. Der, da Eagles won today!”. That’s great, if you care for the Eagles (my NFL fandom is now essentially KSK’s coverage of the NFL and Peter King’s ineptitude). I don’t really give a fuck, I want to hear about the Phillies. Every fucking 5 seconds we were reminded that the Eagles won, serving some sort of hacky comedian segue into NFL coverage.
Yes, Joe. The Eagles are part of the NFC, and FOX has the rights to NFC games, you fucking simpleton. The Phillies are now on FOX for the NLCS. Instead of treating this as a simple correlation, you beat this “great day for Philadelphia sports fans” phrase into the ground. Like the corporate whore you are, you just needed to satisfy Papa Rupert so he could shoot his man love all over your face, just like you like it. Like an epileptic hooker, you stroked the cock of FOX faster and faster every time you used that cotdamn phrase.
Where is Artie Lange when we need him?
Where is Jack Buck? Where is Harry Kalas when we need them? We are stuck with a whorish generation of announcers whose main concern is plugging other programming, human sandwich boards with no integrity whatsoever.
With announcers like Joe Buck, the real question is where is Jack Kevorkian when we need him?
Fuck Joe Buck. Fuck him and his commercials and his slutty way of carrying himself. Fuck his average NFL announcing and average MLB play by play. Fuck his failure of a talk show. Fuck his designer glasses and middle-aged white guy hair cut. Fuck a vanilla personality being offered as the symbol of announcing competence.
Fuck Buck. Also, congratulations to Roy Oswalt on his stellar pitching performance.
Cincinnati’s biggest claim to fame is being the second most well known (grammar rape, mein apologies) city in Ohio. The city Cincinnati is runner up to is most known for being one half of every red-blooded American’s favorite name for the sexual act of shitting on another person’s inviting chest. Essentially, Cincinnati is the runner up to tit shit.
I will make the bold (and by bold, I mean meaningless and instantly forgettable) prediction (author’s note: fuck predictions) that the Reds will be embarrassed by the Phils. Tyler Clementi-level of embarrassment. Let’s make some comparisons regarding why Cincinnati blows, and Philly is cool.
-Cincinnati: Joe Morgan. Philadelphia: Chase Utley.
Now, I’m not the biggest Chase Utley fan. Is he a great 2nd baseman? Yes, but the guy has the personality of a bag of parsnips. I prefer to buy the shirtseys of Black Lava and Jimmy Rollins (Chooch is a tough find), because I’m not a stupid fuckin’ white girl from the suburbs who wants Chase Utley’s boring schlong. But Chase wins this battle, because Joe Morgan is fuckin’ intolerable. Next to Steve Phillips, he’s the most irritating baseball announcer on the planet. I’ll invest in the Cory Lidle School of Aviation before Ilisten to Joe Morgan. Motherfucker is dumb.
-Cincinnati was named one of the top 10 cities that rock by Esquire
First of all, fuck no. Cincinnati is not exactly New York or California, or even Tampa Bay (bad ass death metal scene). Cincinnati doesn’t fucking rock. It’s Cincinnati. Secondly, if Esquire magazine thinks your city rocks, your city is probably a little queer (Nickelback queer, not Freddie Mercury queer. Freddie Mercury was cool)when it comes to the rocking out department. Esquire thinks your cool. That’s like being compared to one of the fags from Entourage. It’s just sad.
-Dan Patrick, 98 Degrees, Seabiscuit, Charles Manson
In the order of most to least evil, these are people from Cincinnati. I’ll take Mumia over 98 Degress any day. Advantage: Philadelphia
-The Phillies beat the Reds on July 6, 2009 by a margin of 21 runs, handing them their largest defeat ever. Suck it.
This ends excruciatingly extensive statistical and factual baseball analysis.
Speaking of suckling, here are some fat tits:
Thanks to his G.G. Allin-esque antics and an injured Stephen Strasburg, Nyjer Morgan is the face of the Nationals. Why the fuck do you care about Nationals news? You don’t, but it has Phillies implications.
In August, the league suspended Morgan for throwing a ball into the center field stands at Citizens Bank Ballpark and striking a fan. This week, MLB rescinded the entire suspending, ruling it was an accident.
Today, Morgan invited the fan to the park as his guest, according to a Nationals spokesman. The fan received a free ticket behind the Nationals dugout, and Morgan met with him before the game and signed a ball for him.The fan got to walk through the Nationals clubhouse before the game, meeting Manager Jim Riggleman and a few other players.
Nyjer then proceeded to punch the fan in the cock and then scream “X-Pac!” over his motionless body*
*Howdy S. Thompson’s artistic interpretation
Also, controversial tits:
That’s FREE for 14 and under lunch boxes for the prices of $29.99, $20, $2.25, $9.99, and $6.99. Given that most ‘kids’, don’t sell their stuff on eBay, I am one to suspect this is the work of dusty old cunts from Citizens Bank Park or their slightly less dusty adult children.
I still want my lunchbox, you fucking spider-webbed twats.
This past Sunday, Howdy S. Thompson treated the poor bastards who birthed myself and Mrs. HDYSR? and her parents to their first ever Phillies game. Being the slightly above minimum wage earner and gent that I am, I sprung for Pavilion deck seating. They didn’t give a fuck where we sat, and neither did I. What I really wanted was the fucking Cole Hamels lunch box. I did not receive my fucking lunch box.
The Nationals are the essential AA team (not AA like that stupid shit cockwand Josh Hamilton believes in to cure
his public image himself of his problems, but AA minor league baseball). They don’t even qualify as AAA due to the fact that you can see the Nationals twice in one year and not recognize a single player besides Will Ferrell. No one wants to see the fucking Nationals. I’ll watch Betty White deepthroat Larry King before I pay to see the infield power of Ian Desmond and the future Hall of Fame plays of Michael Morse. That leads me to the next point: the fucking elderly.
In an ideal world, we wouldn’t have to deal with these piles of grey clogging up our Shoprites, slowing down our roads, and cockblocking us from getting Cole Hamels lunch boxes. I, personally, wanted a Cole Hamels lunch box because I need something to put my lunch in besides a supermarket bag. Living in North Jersey, I also wanted it to be a personal “fuck you” to all the cocksucking Mets fans and bandwagon Yankees fans around me. Is a lunch box childish? No. It holds a lunch, and shows my fandom of a team. As a man who occasionally rocks a Gengar shirt, I don’t give a fuck, I like the way it looks.
It was also within reason, I believed, to try to get one for Mrs. Howdy S and her parents because they had never been to the Phillies’ park and wanted a little fucking piece of fucking memorabilia for their first fucking fan fucking experience at Citizens fucking Bank Park. But no, some slimy, old, gray-pubed bitch stalwarted us. Fine, it’s an hour before game time and there should be some kids coming in later that would want one. Around the third inning, I found another old cunt who had at least 50 of these lunchboxes. My youthy-looking girlfriend kindly asked for one, and the semen rag denied her. What use is it to hold on to several dozen lunch boxes if no one is coming into the park? Was there going to be a sudden surge of utes halfway through the game? Tittyfuck me in the ass, no, there wasn’t going to be. Bitch is probably going to put them on eBay within this week and sell them for a profit like the dusty cunt she was. Fuck these glorified WalMart greeters and their high from the base level of power they’re given.
The big issue is that the Phillies have a ton of giveaways, but there are a thousand separate qualifications to get them. Sarge hat for men 15 and older, titty cancer medallion for female fans, Eric Clapton Phillies jersey for parents with SIDS babies, Alyssa Milano’s pussy for…well, that’s for anyone who can throw a baseball.
Kids at baseball games can be a beautiful experience for a young baseball fan, but 90% of the time it’s some moon face retard staring at you the entire game with ice cream all over his face or some loud mouth that screams the most inane and base advice towards the players or a receptacle for puke (Really kid, you just asked for Roy Oswalt to get a home run? Go back to taking pictures of your asshole and posting them on MySpace and liking Gullah Gullah Island on Facebook you worthless piece of shit). Trying to lure children into the stadium with lunch boxes and the Phanatic like a forty year old man with Gushers and Silly Bands on his dick irritates me. Why is it that I, the consumer who spent over $200 on tickets and food and souvenirs cannot be given a lunch box that cost $3 to make? Those Guatemalan babies worked 17 hours that day for a nickel to make those lunch boxes, and I wanted to enjoy one.
I want my fucking lunchbox. Also, tits (FOR US FUCKING ADULTS):
That is what the Houston Chronicle* should have run their ‘Phillies are the Antithesis of Astros’ commentary piece as.
*on the first of many side notes, the Houston Chronicle’s website is thechron.com, one of the queerest ways I’ve ever heard a dead industry try to stay hip. Much like the SyFy network and anyone in the 90s who used z’s instead of s’s, you’re look like an uncool ass. TheChron.com standing for ‘The Houston Chronicle’ was the third of my guesses (the first being a weed website, the second being a misspelled fetish group for Crohn’s disease). But I
ramble on digress:
Some people are born leaders, many are born as loud mouth pieces of shit who profess leadership, and the rest followers. Ed Wade is in the fourth category, that being the ‘people who like getting peed on and beaten for a living’. In a world where kissassery and sucking your boss’s balls gets you places in life, and questioning your [financial] superiors and giving them sarcastic mockery 24/7 plateaus you, Ed Wade is the king of the brown nose brigade. Just the vile expression on Ed Wade’s face shows you what a pussified assemblage of human parts he truly is. Ed Wade is to ineptitude as Howdy S Thompson is to rape jokes.
In short, I would like to thank the world’s worst skydiver for leaving the Phils. His moronicity has resulted in the following:
Brad Lidge and Beardo for Michael “defensive replacement” Bourn and Geoff “mangled labia face” Geary
The acquistion of the overratin-est, wife-beatin-est, writing pseudonym so we don’t have to deal with the “is he a nail biting reliever or disappointing starter” question.
Roy Oswalt for J.A. Happ.
And the following Phillies washups have appeared on his roster: Chris Coste, Jason Michaels, Matt Kata, Mike Costanza. Wade really loves wiping his face with the Phillies shit.
This Houston Chronicle article compares Philly and Houston for payrolls, wins, attendance, and for some reason, fatness of cities. Not included was the barometric pressure and homeless amputees that blow tourists for bus fare per capita. This strangely organized article proposes this:
“Who would have thought five years ago that the Phils would exceed the Astros?”
The same people who read this:
The Phillies fired Ed Wade as general manager.
The Astros hired Ed Wade as general manager
Enjoy your obesity, shitty newspaper website names, and masochist GMs, Houston (And you Ed, enjoy kissing ass and being an inept corporate goon. It really must suck when you have to live life as a smarmy little turd and still get nowhere. Yes, you may have lots of money and I may be making minimum wage but spending your life in a honest freedom and spewing anonymous hate is much more satisfying than being you. Corporate whore giving shitty handjobs or hate-artist living above his means).
We’ll keep letting Ruben pull the string on Wade’s back so we can take your pitchers.
A fat set of tits belonging to the world’s worst lyricist after the jump:
What Went Wrong is a feature that may or may not be recurring because the collective mind rape of taking max credits and working a full time job will eventually cause the ‘Tard to implode into himself and forget about this.
If I’ve learned anything from my global travels and travails, it is that there are 2 things that everyone likes: spreadsheets *raises the roof for Excel* and titties. Everything on this plane of existence can be explained through nipples and correlation coefficients, so let me elaborate on why the WFC faltered to the cockgobbling Yankees.
Cole Hamels pitched like a total nutsac this season.Every cotdamn good start (very few of ‘em) would cause the John “rape me with a pitchfork” Clark and the 610 losers to slough off the epithelial layer of Cole’s aforementioned nutsac. They’d use this skin to cook their hobo chili and most fans would slurp it up like Tripp Eisen with a bucketful of 14 year old vaginal squirtings. Cole was extraordinarily inconsistent last year, a shutout followed by a 7 run outing. Terry Schiavo’s pussy could have been a less infuriating pitcher. But let me use pictures to explain, rather than those “words” that only old old people use these days. 2 generations of Titties and graphs after the jump:
- Crocks on The Unrecognized Revenge of Bill Hall
- Fred Flintstone on Open Game Thread: 7/15 Phillies at LOLMets
- Chooch on Sports Illustrated’s Profile of Chooch Will Make You Laugh; Cry.
- Kung Fu Fightins on Open Game Thread: 7/15 Phillies at LOLMets
- If you have nothing good to say say nothing on The Unrecognized Revenge of Bill Hall