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Posts Tagged ‘ZWR’


Posted by ZWR at 10:18 am ET 69 Comments

The T-Mac Huffing Game

Have you ever watched a Phillies telecast and thought to yourself, “Man, this would be SO much better if I had a Vicks vaporizer and some turpentine?” Well if so, I’ve got a game for you*! That’s right, kids, it’s the Tom McCarthy (T-Mac) Huffing Game!

If being truthful (citing our work, etc) to the point of prudence, the inspiration for this came from the demurely named Tom McCarthy Sucks blog, as they so kindly localized the hate and made fun graphics and such. Heck, maybe now they’ll actually update it or something. NEW ONE! Every time you go to and it’s not updated, fill your right lung with commercial strength solvent vapor!

Howwwww about that?!

And hey, speaking of awkwardly forced segues, let’s get to the Official game rules, shall we? Without further adieu (sic):

Tom yells at you in a golden-throated, over-modulated voice:
Huff one of those really thick, industrial-sized permanent markers for 10 seconds

Tom breaks Wheels’ balls over the trivia question:
Go to the fridge and do a blast from the aerosolized whipped cream

Tom starts a sentence with, “Heyyyy!”:
Dip an old t-shirt into a bucket of chloroform and it hold it to your face for 5 seconds

Tom proclaims unconvincingly, “Howwww about that?!!”:
Insert your entire head in a gallon-sized freezer bag of a paint thinner

Tom forces a segue to an on-air ad read, saying, “Speaking of…[hardly related topic]…, …”:
Spray oven cleaner directly into your mouth

Tom talks for an entire inning without breathing:
Zip yourself in a Dryel bag filled halfway with formaldehyde

Tom says “red hot”:
Duct tape a sandwich baggie of nail polish remover over your face like a surgical mask

Tom says or does something to Sarge that leaves you rooting for an assault:
Shoot computer keyboard cleaner directly up your nose (one nostril)

Tom cackles a phony used car salesman laugh at something that wasn’t all that funny:
Shut all the doors and windows in your house or apartment, turn the A/C up to high, and pour turpentine directly in your vents

Tom emotes positively for the other team:
Lock yourself in a closet, put a towel along the floor to prevent fresh air from sneaking in, and steam a bucket of ammonia.

That should do it, kids. If you think up anymore, leave them in the comments.

Phillies TV broadcasts are going to be so much more fun now–you won’t even have a reason to mute them and put on the radio!

* Note: Neither or (publicly) endorses inhalant abuse. The preceding has been a work of satire. Don’t do drugs.

Phillies bloggers meet the cast of The Wire: Please check out the latest BANGA from Zoo With Roy where he matches up characters from The Wire with their Phillies blogging counterparts. He had me at Meech = Avon Barksdale. [Zoo With Roy]

Posted by ZWR at 10:05 pm ET 18 Comments

This is kind of tough. The little guy is nomming some Funyuns and there’s no telling what I’d do if I got to that bag. But this will be short lived. I can do this. For now however I shall Twitter to the masses, providing humor to the masses

Spot check: still gooooooooood.

I smell McGriddle. I know McGriddle. I cannot eat McGriddle. AND NOW THE “I’M EGGIN’ IT” SONG COMES ON?!

It’s the Mets. I’ll be fine. This is good publicity. I mean, I was just on the radio. Sound move, Meechton. Well played.

As the evolution from street tough blogger to affluent Mac owner attests to a greater transformation, I think it time to consider moving to Maine and opening a breakfast shop. The full shabang, too. I’ll wear red plaid flannel and an LL Bean hat that I got at the outlet. Folks can hang their coffee mugs on the wall- a real mom and pop place with hipster flair. We’ll source a local farm for maple syrup, another for blueberries, and write clever things on the menus/chalk board. Sell “Chocolate Neutral Milk Hotel”. “We support same sex unions: Maple Syrup and Powdered Sugar!” Lord, I must stop thinking of food. I know, I’ll go read Zoo With Roy! (back from ZWR) That guy is dope, yo. I think I’ll name the place The Meechy Moose. omg yes

Twenty-one days lost at sea I fought
For twenty-two years non-stop I’ve talked
Through the desert, piss drunk, and confused I walked
I spit a tooth in the palm of my hand

This stromboli is going to be soooo good. And I didn’t tell anyone, but I’m straight killing some Combos afterwards. A STROMBO COMBO COMBO Y’ALL! RUN TMC.

I might as well just go to bed, right? For how many days?

Dude, I want some chicken fingers. For real. My kingdom for some honey mustard. At least Deitch thinks I’m cool.

BIG PELF. Saddest.

cotdamn cotdamn cotdamn goddamn. criminy. bejesus cotdamn.

this portrait from my youth depicts not the impetuous servant to righteousness i've now become

and yet i can’t believe it’s taken this long to return to, or dare say arrive at, or perhaps more aptly stumble upon (my mind’s path lighted dimly forgive me) our friend the hunger artist (no energy for capital letters and i know it’s kafka which i reference). from my cage from my cage from my cage i see them all see them there and they look but only for a moment, that another which i haven’t eaten will not eat. my art unappreciated, my act barely amusement anymore, this … famine for meaning. but i am a hunger artist. noble.


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R.I.P Harry Kalas