The Fightins'

Posts Tagged ‘hate’

Posted by at 3:00 pm ET 27 Comments

*also, master of wordy blog article titles

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:

Read more »

      Read More: , ,
Posted by at 12:12 pm ET 198 Comments

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.

Fuck that.

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:

Read more »

Posted by at 5:29 pm ET 43 Comments

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):

Read more »

Visit The Fightins Store
Friends of the Fightins:


R.I.P Harry Kalas