With everyone’s favorite ponophobic right fielder Bobby Abreu still looking for a team, New York Times resident dumbass Tyler Kepner inquired why this former home run derby champ was jobless*. And where did he go for his insight? Well, it’s only fitting that he contacted Astros GM and Houston’s resident dumbass, Ed Wade:

“He’s a sabermetrician’s dream, from the standpoint of what he produces statistically,” Wade said.

What!!! What kind of queer dream is that? You know what my dreams are? An outfielder whose dick doesn’t retreat into his body when he feels the warning track. That and looking for BJs and having my life threatened on a nightly, REM basis. Fuck sabermetricians.

But that’s enough from Wade, let’s go back to asshat Tyler Kepner:

I also think his defensive shortcomings are overstated. His range factor per nine innings was below the league average last season, but he still runs well and his arm is still adequate. Abreu has played at least 151 games in 11 consecutive seasons, but he shies away from outfield walls and his reputation has suffered for it.

His teams have also suffered for it. Jayson Werth ain’t  pussin’ out for some wall. How many fucking games has Abreu lost for this team because of his pussy antics at the plate and in the field? I’m no sabermetrician, but I’m guessing a bucketful. But let’s get back to Ed and horrible comparisons:

“Aaron Rowand is an outstanding player and he brings that blue-collar type of energy to the field, and that’s great. Fans gravitate to that, especially in Philadelphia. Bobby’s so good at what he does and so smooth at doing it, he tends to be underappreciated.”

Wait…wait a fucking second. Did he seriously call Bobby Abreu smooth ? Please, Bobby’s as smooth as a middle-aged prostitute’s mons pubis. Apparently herky-jerky oufielding and running a ball down like you have a butt plug inside you constitutes smoothness.

But there is good news:

A few dominoes could fall in certain places – the Dodgers, the Mets, the Mariners – that might open some options for Abreu

Oh, for Odin’s sake, pleeeeeeasse let him play for the Mets next year. He’s the perfect combination of heartless, overpaid, bitchy, nutless, gutless, and a sabermetrician’s solution to relieve a hard cock. I can hear the boos rain down on him in my sadomasochistic, nihilistic dreams.

*on a side note, anyone that says “general managers can’t spend as much money because of the failing economy” can have my taint for breakfast. Bullshit. Since when has baseball been a reflection of the economy? Endy Chavez made $1.8 million last year.

From the fucking best blog site that doesn’t employ the ‘Tard, our brahs at the Sports Hernia:

And move over Mizz Perry, I have a new fantasy lady. The even sexier and Britishier Abigail Rose Clancy. Click belows to see them boobies!

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Multiple wacky news organizations put out multiple wacky columns connecting presidency to the Phillies. ROTFLOL! Grover Cleveland Alexander and Grover Cleveland. WACKY!!!! Obama plays basketball (how does that relate to baseball, numbnuts?). Mein own observations:

-Obama’s name has 5 letters. Ryan Howard’s last name has 6 letters. Coincidence?

-Obama has been linked to activist William Ayers. David Wright is a confirmed terrorist (don’t quote me on that)

-Obama is from Chicago. The Phillies have played in Chicago.

-Obama is considering Prop. 2135, making it a felony to wear these stupid shirts

-Baseball’s biggest problem: Steroids. Obama’s opponent biggest problem: Hemmoroids (WHACKITY SCHMACKITY DO!)

-Barack’s middle name is Hussein. Billy Wagner should be hung from a noose.

-Obama’s campaign manager, David Plouffe, turned Obama on to Phillies Phandom during the playoffs

-Oh and while David Wright is at home smelling his own farts, where will the Phillies be? The fucking White House.

My personal favorite joke of the ‘08 campaign, from Super High Me documentarian, Doug Benson:

“Someone just the other day asked me ‘Who are you voting for president and why?’ And I said ‘that is my personal business and because he’s black’”

For a historic week*, a historic photo of a young lady is needed. Not titties, but ass after the jump:

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Or the alternative title, “Biggest Load of Fucking Shit Ever Unsuspectingly Dumped on Someone Since that Time You Let Your Boyfriend Try Anal” (that title’s for the experienced ladies out there).

Some stupid ass, cock-backwards, buttmunching organization called the American Sportscasters Association (failed original name: Douchebags & Retards Anonymous) decided to put a list out of the top 50 Sportscasters. Sure, a bullshit list devised to get my titties in a knot. Go ahead, list some decent names, and then just skullfuck me until you destroy my frontal lobes enough to render me inept in the ability to understand the difference between a good sportscaster (i.e. Vin Scully) and some big-toothed nutsack (i.e. Bill Walton) or some douche (i.e. Joe Buck) who basically equates fake mooning with forced sodomy. Scroll down to #41 for the bullshittiest ranking of 2009.

The list:

#1 Vin Scully: A fucking legend, good choice

#5 Howard Cosell: Once again, a legend for MNF

#6 Bob Costas: Generally a douche and a anti-blog pussy, but when he puts the journalism aside, I guess he’s decent.

#9 Al Michaels: Overexaggerates in his later years, but still decent.

#29 John Madden: (see Michaels, Al)

#31 Joe Buck: You fucking serious? That pussy? He doesn’t give a shit about baseball, and is a sniveling, closet egomaniac (see Costas, Bob).

#35 Chris Berman: …

#39 Bill Walton: Okayyyyyyy… WHERE THE FUCK IS HARRY THE K!?!? Are all sportscasting polls this assbackwards? Fuck Bill Walton.

#41 Harry Kalas: This is a fucking disgrace. Joe Buck, ‘the jack[off] of all trades’, is a worse baseball announcer. Oh, and Joe’s primary sport, football? Harry wipes Joe’s dick in the dirt and then spoonfeeds it to him with his Westwood One broadcasts.

Another disgusting aspect of this list, Dick Vitale is only 6 spots below Harry. I know Harry might have fallen off in recent years, but to put him in the bottom 10 with Cock Vitale and Cock Stockton (#48), fuck that list.

Fuck you, American Sportscasters Association. Someone will have to fist you elbow deep to get your head from outta your ass.

Fuck your list.

(Courtesy LA Daily News via Deadspin)

I’d like to thank Meech, once again (or for the first time) for his invitation for me to blog with him and Chamo. And the general public should thank him as well, as a sober ‘Tard can release anger via blog rather than swing at customers at Boscov’s Moorestown. I must tell you first hand, nothing is scarier than having a retail-related dream. Fuck, I can’t wait to be back at school and getting back those semi-conscious-dream-hallucinations.

So let’s all forget our shit jobs for a moment, and our shit wages, dodge the biledriver and crank up the GWAR, and bitch about millionaires.

This Saturday (1/17/20 ATB*) at the BC Sports in the Moorestown Mall from 3:00 to 4:30 PM, your right fielder Jayson Werth will be signing autographs at the mall (talk about a good pussy gig!). Well, notsomuch signing autographs as he’ll be requesting you give him and BC Sports Collectibles $49 to sign a baeball or photo, and $69 for bats, jerseys, or other equipment. I’m not sure if other equipment means a big poster that says ‘Fuck you for charging me for your fucking autograph’, but it should. Oh, and no photos.

Now, we’d all like to meet Jayson Werth. You’d shake more than Jett Travolta in his presence (first dead kid joke!). But $49 minimum? For Jayson Werth?!? I love the vag beard as much a the next guy, but come on… The only way I’m paying forty-nine bills for someone to sign my balls is if it was Kate from Kate’s Playground. And by balls, I mean ‘testes’. And by sign I mean ‘put them in her mouth’. And by paying I mean ‘an exchange of greenbacks for goods of services’.

Please, even prostitutes don’t charge that much for a greeting. Just ask David Wright’s father.

So fuck autograph sessions. Fuck someone charging you so they can scribble a Sharpie on your faggy Lithograph (”but I paid $900 dollars and there’s only 15 ever made!” Yeah, and you’re dumbass douche #15). Fuck Jayson Werth and BC Sports Collectibles. Fuck Lithographs. Fuck ‘no photos’. Fuck the Mets. And fuck the hundreds of dollars autograph seekers spend that could be spent on more important things like cheap booze or a noose once thy realize they bought some faggy Lithograph.

Ass after the jump, from the true future Mrs. HDYSR?:

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…he’s a dipshit, fuckface, assmunch. Larry “Chipper” Jones decided to open his little bitch mouth recently, and suprisingly, didn’t injure it whilst speaking. Ask for douchedom, and thou shalt receive:

We won for 14 consecutive years, and you never, ever saw any bulletin board material. And now that these two teams are on top of the division, they can’t keep their mouths shut. Just go play baseball. It’s Cole Hamels now. It was Jimmy Rollins and Carlos Beltran the past couple of springs. These two teams are constantly going at each other verbally. You know, win with class, lose with class. Just keep your mouth shut and go play your game.

Hey, nutsack-face, why don’t you play a fucking full season before you talk shit on our shit.  Maybe once you and that fat wife-beating fuck of a manager can survive an entire season without you rupturing each other’s anuses, you’ll have something to talk about.

*FAKE UPDATE: Chipper broke 3 bones in his ear by picking up the phone too quickly*

And don’t you dare talk shit on Cole Hamels. Cole Hamels is the closest thing there is to a deity. Fuck you, Larry Jones, eat piss. You just jealous that your fans don’t give a shit. Enjoy your NASCAR rivalries, and learn to keep your fucking mouth shut and play your game when you are the defending WORLD FUCKING CHAMPIONS.

From Wikipedia:

The nickname “Chipper” came from family members who felt he was a “chip-off-the-old-block” of his father.

Here’s hoping Cole Hamels takes a chip off your blockhead in ‘09! Ass.

Bewbs after the jump:

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Let me set the scene*:

It is late, 10:05 PM on the nose. He has a deadline to meet, a shithole paper to write for. What is his angle? He loosens the belt on his 46 inch Dockers with the elastic waist, asks his unfuckable hag of a wife to grab him a Diet Caffeine Free Coke with Lemon (thinkin’ juice!!) and heaves his pathetic frame onto his Gateway keyboard. Yes, back to that angle. How about I write something so boring, and something that has been written about 10,000 times before? The behind-the-scenes hero!!! AH HA!! GENIUS!!! “Bitch [his wife], where’s ma Cheetos?!?!”

The Phoenixville… Phoenix Newspaper trotted out some story about some boring butthole in the Phillies management that FUCKIN WON THE WORLD SERIES for them. Or so this overly poetic piece would lead yout to believe:

They are the men behind the show.

Baseball lifers with keen eyes and finely-honed instincts as carefully crafted as a big league bat.

Every night, April to September, in ballparks from Atlanta to Anaheim, they assemble like clockwork behind homeplate with their stopwatches, radar guns, notepads, and digital recorders, charting every pitch and noticing every glitch.

The advance scout.

BLEEEEECCHHHHHH!!!!! Put a dick in my skull and call me Sally, that’s the most boring imagery ever.

Gauging strengths and weaknesses and tendencies — especially tendencies — is their job.

No, please, no more. Please stop…

[...]working as the Phillies advance scout, accumulating hotel stays and airline miles at the same obscene rate that Ryan Howard racks up strikeouts.

Please, I’m begging you, no more advance scout to Ryan Howard comparisons…

There is constant dialogue between the coaching staff and the advance scout, with no detail too minute or obscure to discuss.

And Dave Kurtz rejects no boring anecdote or quote, no matter how minute or obscure.

On Saturday, Jan. 17, King [the advance scout] will receive the prestigious 2009 George Genovese Lifetime Achievement Award at the Sixth Annual Spirit of the Game dinner/auction in Los Angeles’ Hyatt Regency Century Plaza Hotel in Los Angeles.

The 2009 George Genovese Liftime Achievement Award at the [etc.]!?! Sounds like a party! I’ll bring the alcohol, you bring the pussy.

Okay, I can’t go on any longer. There were 900+ words in this piece of shit. And the balls on this guy, using the title Limerick Resident Helped get Phillies over the Top in 2008. Seriously? Fuck Brad Lidge and Shane Victorino and Matt Stairs home run, some minuscule employee (who happened to be in the organization for 26 years) ‘got them over the top’. And what kind of ass to kiss is an advanced scout? It’s like bragging that you got a handy (for the kids out there, handy=handjob) from a lighting director on ‘Kangaroo Jack’.

I just find it insane how people will trash blogs for being brief, and support dying newspapers to listen to this boring sack of crap droll on about a fuckin’ advance scout. You know what newspapers don’t have? Titties. Katy Perry titties in Mexico.

Titties and asterik after the jump:
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OMG!!! New Years Resolutions!! Whether it’s to stop smoking (fucking quitters) or losing those extra pounds to fit in your new Rascal, we all try to make ‘em. Here’s some I, Howdy S. Thompson, made for your Philadelphia Phillies. Feel free to add your own in the comments.

Brett Myers: No more ghea Ed Hardy shirts. I prefer your wifebeating to your douchey fashion choices.

Brad Lidge: Change intro music to something by Ensiferum, Slayer, or Amon Amarth. No one listens to nu-metal; it fucking sucks.

Jamie Moyer: Finally converts his 8-Tracks to the much more modern cassette tape. Someone’s gonna be bumpin’ and grindin’ all night to those Chubby Checker albums.

Carlos Ruiz: Get on base twice in the same game.

Ryan Howard: Visit the Mhmmmmm Hall of Fame before Prince Fielder devours it.

Matt Stairs: Ass-hammer some broads.

Chase Utley: In the tradition of Chad Ochocinco and Tampa Bay Buccanneer Stylez G. White, legally change name to Chase Fucking Utley.

So Taguchi: Renegotiate contract so he does not have to fulfill the clause to change his name to So Fuckingawful

Charlie Manuel: Find out how much pussy* he can get (my prediction, a bucketful) by being the manager of the World Fucking Champions.

*image of Chuckles Manuel looking for pussy inserted especially for Lynniemac.

Happy Kwanzaa all! I’ve beens busy, but come New Year, I’ll be back. Fuck the last two weeks. Fuck my lackadasical posting. Come 2009, gone will be satirical failure, kind, boring ‘Tard. Back is christraping, creative, destructive, angry, crazy, manic-depressive Howdy that fists CBS Sportsline writers elbow deep and hits on anything with a high school I.D. Expect the madness HDYSR? procreates in his writing in the coming year, cause the ladyfriend the ‘Tard has had a boner for since August is newly single. That along with pulling the coveted 10, 12, and 16 hour shift (needs greenbacks for drugs and booze) at my shitty job has H. Tard feeling all Christmasy. Enjoy your Winter Solstice, enjoy your Gregorian New Year, and stay witness to the self-destruction (we’ve got cookies and punch in the breakroom).

Tits after the jump:

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If you’re anything like the writers of this fine website (technically, it’s super fine), you have an unhealthy obsession with Sarge “Gary” Matthews. Be it man-crush or lady boner, you would do anything for the Sarge. Some of us (me) have even revised his Wiki page.

Tomorrow (Thursday) at the Borders in Springfield, you, the Fightins’ reader have the privilege of being in the presence of Sarge Matthews. And who knows, maybe you can rub elbows (or the ‘Tard’s case get high and drink Everclear in his car while he lectures you why Amon Amarth is better than sex) with the writers of the Fightins.

I’ll be there, with fuckin’ bells on (Bells = ‘My Beat LA’ shirt). Meech will be there. Chamo, not so much; but don’t blame him, blame his pet monkey.

Here are the details:

Where: Borders, Springfield Square Shopping Center, 1001 Baltimore Pike, Springfield, PA, 19064

When : Thursday, December 18, 7:00 PM – Whenever the Sarge love ends

Who : Fuckin’ Sarge Matthews!! And Fightins staff. And Borders employees.

Why: FUCKIN’ SARGE MATTHEWS!!!!

What: FUCK. ING. SARGE. MATTHEWS.

Uggh, finals and drinking with a high school girl will really drain the energy from you. Also, Hennessy = BLAAAHHHH. Titties and picture of a young suave Sarge for Lynniemac after the jump:

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New Phillies GM Ruben Amaro (Jr?, ehhh I forget; I’m 83% sure it’s Junior) decided to bolster an already strong bullpen with one time Dodger great Chan Ho Park. When reached for comment, Park told reporters he was “really excited” for those Spring Training stretching drills and late nights searching for pussy at the area Clearwater malls with his new wingman, Clay “don’t call me Gaiken” Condrey.

“I hear Clearwater has really nice hotel soap and am looking forward to meeting with my new Phillies teammates” Chan Ho Park said, with a Ecksteiny enthusiasm.

When hearing of the latest signing, his new teammates were equally joyed with responses of “who” and “who’s that” and “why the fuck we need more bullpen”. The locker room was in awe of their temporary teamate’s arrival:

“Never heard of ‘em” said a confused Greg Dobbs when reached for comment.

“World Champions. World TITTYFUCKING Champions” exclaimed Chase Utley.

“Don’t we need, like, uh, another outfielder or sumpthin” vociferated portly starter Joe Blanton.

“He fights like a pussy” maundered first baseman Ryan Howard.

Nothing but joy and overzealousness. He wore #61 during his times with the Dodgers, and that’s probably how many seconds he will spend on the mound this season as a Philadelphia Phillie.

Sincerest apologies, lovers of my titty posts. The lack of postage has been due to the fact my creative juices are squeezed out an orange of hate (damn period of genuine happiness in my life!!). That and a crippling Facebook addiction (seriously, that shit is worse for you than any drug). If I can leave you with one word of wisdom, it would be KeepOnHating. Probably would have to be hyphenated. Kristin Bell lookin’ all sexy after the jump.

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