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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Happy belated World Aids Day! I hope you all got the what you wanted, but I doubt you can use a gift receipt on an incurable virus.

Awwwwhh, shit…I’ss back loyal reader. My lack of postage is mostly attributable to actually holding down a job for a week(EVERCLEAR AND KEYSTONE LIGHT MONEY!!), ruining a girl’s* Sweet 16 party, and listening to this band nonstop for a couple weeks now. Damn Boscov’s Moorestown having me work 8 hours on Thanksgiving and 16 hours on Black Friday, I was actually sober for over 2 days.

So begins the offseason. And the exciting craziness that comes with the offseason.

The Phillies have two big free agents, Pat “The Bait” Burrell and Jamie “Old Guy Joke” Moyer. We all know it’s unlikely that Pat is coming back, given his sendoff at the parade. That was expected. But no arbitration for Moyer!?! Say it isn’t so. What would this team be without Grampy Moyer? Who the fuck will we make fun of now? Will be forced to make more hacky jokes about Jayson Werth’s vag beard and Kim Myers teeth being left on a Boston sidewalk? This team needs Moyer.

But the article (that I barely read) did say “the two sides have a desire to work out a contract”. I guess that works. But then again, I have a desire to suffocate under Katy Perry’s breasts.

Hopefully, both will come true. Titties and apology after the jump.

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Talk about lame bets. In the tradition of boring, useless, nut-crunching in terms of bullshitieness city bets the Tampa Bay-Philadelphia one takes the cake (Cheesecake?!?! Cream Cheese?!?!? Local tie-in!?!?!? LOLZ!!). The city that brought you Kelly Monaco and her delicious vag put up a dozen cheesesteaks. Delicious, fattening, meaty, cheesy, beef covered with cheese in a roll. What did Tampa Bay put up?

Oranges.

Oranges.

FUCKIN’ ORANGES!!

You know how drunk you have to be to eat an orange? That’s one of the last foods I’ll eat while I’m enjoying a Hawaiian Everclear (Everclear + Blue Hawaiian Punch). I know this guy has never eaten an orange.

I think I messed up on my titty quota, but I have medical condition (I sprained my ankle whilst drinking). So I’ve basically been zotzing out on Ibuprofen and Coors the past couple days. Plus, the whole “I don’t think my parents would approve of you” line got thrown at me the other day. Damn the life of a unique rebel.

Titties, after the jump

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With the news of Phillies 3rd base coach Steve Smith being let go last week, it seems Charlie is going to run the team all by himself. The Phils have relinquished (that’s a pretty Ghea verb, HDYSR?) bench coach Jimy “don’t call me Jimmy, asshole” Williams.

Soon, through the wonders of cloning, Chuckles Manuel will manage, bench coach, coach both 1st and 3rd base, and be the #1,2,3,4, and 5 starter. And he will close. And he will fuck your daughters. And he will find Osama. Cause whether it’s squeezin’ titties (once again, enjoy that image, Lynniemac) or being the reason Ryan Howard is a beast, Chuck does it all.

Watch, your asses, Phillies batboys. And the ballgirls should watch their backs as well (for something besides Meech lurking in the background). Soon, Charlie’s sweet melons will be occupying the foul lines.

My sincerest apologies readers, I’ve been posting waaay to much recently. It must be this damn sobriety thing. Because it’s the beginning of the week, I can’t directly post titties. Enjoy this Katy Perry link instead* (the 2nd hottest girl on the planet, behind Anna).

*kinda NSFW, but I’m unemployed

• Lynniemac on Which One is More Likely?
• Lynniemac on Playoff Diary: Nearly Bartmanesque
• RJ on Playoff Diary: Nearly Bartmanesque
• Gonzo on Which One is More Likely?
• Negro Grande on Which One is More Likely?