I’d like to preface this column by saying LOOK OUT FOR THE FLAMING OIL REFINERY!!!! WE’RE ALL GOING TO FUCKING DIE!!! (according to Rob Jennings).

As a student studying to get my B.A. in psychology, I have a further understanding of it than fools like Sam Donellon have. I know who psychologists themselves truly are (take a survey of psychology majors, and you will find 2 things: 1.) People who want to be teachers and 2.) People that ARE FUCKING NUTS) and what effects it has.

That being said, Sam and the average reader create a bastard job and call it a ’sports psychologist’. Dr. Phil is a more qualified psychologist than these asshats. These guys are in the business of making you feel happy and charging you money for your own intrinsic happiness kicking in with their minimal aid. Bullshit artists.

Whereas real psychologists take no credit (except fiscally, ’cause we are all whores for cash) for continued depression or an elevation in mood, cockfaces like Dr. Joel Fish (you know, the douchebag who explains the ‘psyche’ of eccentric Philadelphia athletes? That dipshit) and Harvey Dorfman claim to help athletes, and publicly diagnose sports celebrities without ever meeting them. Completely ethical, taking all the credit like some sort of quasi-shaman and discussing private matters in public.

The latter of these dickwits, Doc Dorfman, claims his magic books on roads to happiness helps struggling athletes. And what a list of athletes that is:

His books [...] have become dog-eared textbooks for players like Moyer, who in turn has pointed players from Ibanez to the struggling young Kyle Kendrick toward Harvey’s couch.

Kyle Kendrick!?! Kyle fucking Kendrick!

Hey, Mr. Sports ‘Psychologist’,  your books on universal happiness didn’t improve double K. You know why? ‘Cause psychology and self-help books don’t help everyone! That’s why you’re a fucking psychologist. You can’t help everyone, so stop pimping your bullshit to gullible fools like Sam Donellon who write columns titled “Psychologist helps athletes, Phillies think positive even when things are going well”.

I know some of you will say “My dearest ‘Tard,  these men may not be performing well on the baseball diamond, but sports psycholgists can help them deal with everyday life and personal happiness”. Bull-fucking-shit. High caliber athletes love the attention, and thrive off the attention. They need the public to love them or to be performing well at their job for happiness. For an example of the media whoredom of the common athlete, look how well Brett Favre deals with being out of the spotlight.

And with a client list containing Chan Ho Park, Kyle Kendrick, and Jamie Moyer, that’s a 66% failure rate, Dorfman. Sports Psycholgy is not real psychology, it’s just another average job built up by hackneyed writers. Hackneyed writers looking for an interesting scoop. Hackneyed writers placing success on the wrong individuals.

Jamie Moyer is why Jamie Moyer is a successful pitcher in his 40s. Chan Ho Park and Kyle Kendrick have themselves to blame for their shitty pitching. Harvey Dorfman has no role in the Phillies success or failure.

Fuck sports psychologists. Ass after the jump:

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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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Yeah, I haven’t posted lately. I had a hot lead that involved some Facebook stalking, but it fizzled out. That, and buying some bad…uh, cookies… had me out of it for a day or two.

Fresh off Charlie Manuel Day (which I think means you can urinate in public, punch cops, and commit any felony your heart desires) in Buena Vista, Chuck had some musings. The one that struck me was this:

“I’ll always feel (like a) part of Buena Vista,” Manuel told reporters on Saturday. “If you want to know the truth, I feel like I am Buena Vista. I feel like I own Buena Vista.”

Bullshit, you belong to Philly. Your southern twang and willingness to fight trollish WIP ‘talking [dick]heads’ makes you Philly. Fuck Buena Vista (which I always thought was in California). But that can be forgotten with the deliciousness of this quote:

“They’d come up and touch you and tell you that they love you and stuff,” he continued. “That’s one of the biggest things about it. Everything about it became real, and that’s the part that I’ll always remember. It was one of the best things that I’ve ever had happen to me in sports.”

I love you (in a platonic, non-old man crush, way), Charlie Manuel. Fake celebrity ass after the jump.

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