I Have a Dream

When I fell asleep Thursday night I dreamed I was watching baseball on TV. Which is kind of unremarkable, especially for a dream. I mean, one time I dreamed I was flying a helicopter in Vietnam, only it was a cartoonish Vietnam with Viet Cong that were different species of monkey, firing GI Joe style laser guns and my co-pilot was an anthropomorphic feline that was some kind of combination between Chester Cheetah and Heathcliff.

The point being that my dreams generally resemble bizarre and particularly frightening acid trips, and so a dream where I was watching baseball on TV seemed to be a little weird. I mean, who dreams of mundane shit like that?

Unsurprisingly, in my dream I was watching a Phillies game. And also a Mets game. In the dream, both games began at the same time, and by the end of the first inning, the Phillies led their game 7-0 while the Mets were losing 6-0. Did I mention this was a wet dream?

It was at that point that shit started getting a little weird. Cabrera hit one deep to the wall in Shea; Endy Chavez went up to try and reprise his outfield heroics from last years NLCS; the ball sailed just over his glove for a homer. I rejoiced.

Then, as he came down, he inexplicably tore the part of the outfield wall down with him. At first it was only a small part that kind of peeled away. Then it got bigger and bigger, like when you’re peeling off old wallpaper and all of a sudden he’d ripped down the entire left field fence. Shit went downhill after that; the scoreboard came crashing down on Endy’s head, then the light towers and finally the bleachers and the upper deck. It was really quite awesome.

I’m guessing this dream was some kind of unsubtle left-brain metaphor for the Mets impending collapse. Or maybe it’s the work of residual psilocybin floating around my cortex. Fuck it though, let’s play three.

Department of Mustaches

Would you buy a burrito from this man:



I probably wouldn't either. You know who would though? Geoff Geary. That rat-faced monkey is the kind of guy that would probably buy a burrito from anybody. You know what else he would do? Give up a bunch of hits in a close game so that the Phillies lose and Timmy Dych has to restarin himself the next morning from strangling some innocent dusthead ex con with his rally towel.

Published reports (and by published, I mean reports that were sent to me via text message by extremely drunk and otherwise unreliable sources) indicate that Geary has been seen hitting the town with Pat the Deviant. Which might go a long ways towards explaining his suckitude, in addition to his rumored colorectal blockages.

A Truly Great American

As children, many of us had things taken from us unlawfully. Our only options of recourse were to tattle on the offender to our mommies or a swift kick in the balls followed by some very fast running away.

This man, my nominee for American of the Year, shows us one more option for getting yo shit back.

Fuck It

Hey, Adam Eaton, guess what?



I hardly consider myself an optimist. In fact the potent combination of being a lifelong Philly native, far too Irish for mine and society's good and currently being so deep in the ranks of a pathetic 9-to-5 existence has likely engrained pessimism so deep into my DNA that my great grandkids are going to be such miserable sons of bitches that they'll make Hitler and Stalin seem happier than Balki Bartokomous and that waterhead from Life Goes On and the McDonalds commercials. Therefore, it should be painfully obvious that optimistic moments are few and far between for your humble narrator, and you know what? I'm fucking done wasting them on this years Phillies.

Adam Eaton may not be the actual anti-christ, and some people might say he isn't the only one to blame, but it is hard to argue that he hasn't lobbied an awe-inspiring campaign to be the official posterboy for failure. His triumphant return was the punch in the balls I was in dire need of that finally made me drop the Kool-Aid and get ont he early bus in proclaiming: THIS SEASON IS DONE. FUCKING DONE. Sure, some 'key' games may be won, a late run will likely be made that will prompt the four of you out there who actually frequent the DR to tell me I'm a beatoff who should be exiled to the top of the Citizens Bank bleachers clad in nothing but a Carlos Beltran jersey, but deep within that many-times-over surgically repaired heart, you all know I'm right. Don't do it to yourselves again people.

Seriously folks, we need to be strong and another year of allowing ourselves to be heartbroken is simply unsafe. The way Gang Green looked in week one (this week's re-signing of the legendary Reno Mahe aside), you really might need strength come January. Besides, if our teams are going to be a bunch of weak pussies, we as fans can not be, as exhibited below:



Ahhhh fuck it, after seeing that, I'm back in. That shit is motivational. Go Phils and fuck the Mets. We fight our own security guards, their fans waste beer.

(7 minute version of video here.)

Reno and the Gang

The Eagles played offense played like shit on Sunday, that was obvious. The Eagles special teams played like some sort of sub-human cave dwelling foul smelling disgusting excuse for a trolls shit...that was obviouser, much obviouser. What may not in fact be as obvious is what do we do now?

Fear not pessimistic herds, for I have thine answer. Well answers technically, but you see my point. Reno Mahe has been resigned to take over punt return duties. Reno was fine when he was here and we could always depend on him to at least CATCH the ball. The one thing I find very disturbing about Mr. Mahe is that this is the Only "highlight" clip I could find of him on youtube. Never a good sign when your only youtube clip is low quality and from a video game.

May I present to you my list of the top 4:

Local Media Members Who Should get the Punt Returner Job

4) This man has been amusing us with his elfish Jewish look for what seems like an eternity. Some of you know who I am talking about...for those who don't...let's hear it for the man the myth the legend. It would be fun to watch him return just one punt, and then wish him well on his recovery.

3) Separated at birth? I for one am counting on it. Have you ever seen his brother play? That guy is truly one of the greats, there is nothing he can't do! (Quincy Carter sucks)

2) This guy played football,was an Eagle, was dominant for a period, good locker room guy, plus he can sing.

1) In all seriousness, I would really like to the Birds bring this guy back and give him a shot. Like Reno, he will catch the ball. Unlike Reno he has a chance to score a TD. Who knows, he might even get to do this.

Department of Same Shit Different Day

Words to Live By

The Good, the Bad, The Phillies.


Following last Thursdays epic victory over the diminished Metropolitans, a misguided, miscalculated, completely insane idea permeated the small brain cavity of every Phillies fan in the city: We can do it. We can win. There is hope!! Let me be the first to admit to this foolish though familiar mistake, and also be the last to tell you it's gone the way of the electric typewriter, the home phone, and Friendster: the scrap heap of human evolution. We Phillie fans must change our way of thinking soon or forever be consigned to a lifetime of singular and spectacular pain, the kind of pain only the Phillies can inflict. Here's a brief recap of the week that was.


The Good: The 4-game sweep of the Mets was masterful theater; a blow-out, a come-from-behind, a frantic controversy, and a ulcer causing series clincher blew The Mets and their droopy followers out of Philly and back to the deep suburbs, tails limp and sad between their legs. This team, the Phillies, DOES have a lot going for it, namely an infield that borders on the edge of insanity. Numbers tend to read slow and boring, so what I will say is that collectively, the infield could very well end the season leading the league individually in batting(Utley), hits(JRoll), doubles(Utley), triples(JRoll), home runs(Howard), rbi's(Howard), and runs scored(JRoll). Oh and strikeouts(Howard). Imagine that infield with a real player at third base. Besides the potentially historic quality of those fellows
exists a team that is easy to root for. They have a clubhouse that appears fun, loose, and ethnically diverse, not to mention a pitcher with 12 fingers and 12 toes. they like each other. They root for each other. They are so good sometimes. So what's the problem?

The Bad: For starters, the starters. In closing, the closing. The pitching is just plain stupid. Rare is the game when they get a well-pitched game by the starting pitcher AND the bullpen and lose. It just doesn't happen; when they pitch well they win, when they don't sometimes the offense bails them out. Or they lose. A lot. What looked like a potentially nasty rotation, nasty like Barry Sanders in the open field, has turned into a different sort of nasty. Nasty like Colonel Sanders in a open field, with his pants down. Taking a dump. Yes it's bad, very bad, and there doesn't appear to be any cure for a pitching staff that can't get guys out. Up 8-2 in todays game against the Braves, Charlie Manuel handed the ball to his two "best" arms in the bullpen: Tom "Flash" Gordon and Brett Myers. Twenty minutes later the game was over, 9-8 Braves, season in peril for real. This lack of pitching, more than the cumbersome strikeout totals, questionable managing, and injuries to Utley and Howard, have been the reason for such a up-and-down summer. Here's what we must remember:

The Phillies: This is, after all, the Phillies we're talking about, the losingest team in the history of professional sports in this country and maybe the world(even more than the washington generals??). I soothe myself in times of trouble with the simple mantra: It's the Phillies. No three words can sum it up any better because really, It's the Phillies, and it's not so much the players on the field doing well or playing horribly but a bunch of guys running around in a uniform that I'm fairly certain is cursed to some degree. I love the Phillies and I've rooted for them my entire life, but when it comes to believing in them, well, I'll have to tilt my head and scratch my chin and take a deep breath and sigh. I understand my choice to be flawed. The Phillies are the cupcake that Bart keeps trying to grab even though Lisa has connected electric wires to it that shock Bart every time he touches it. As for this season, those who think it's truly over have no idea how this team works; it's not over, well, of course it's over I mean there's no way we'll make the playoffs, but the drama is just starting to take shape. We'll get back into the wildcard chase. We'll be close enough to touch it, just like that cupcake. And then we finish up the season against the Washington Nationals. Sounds good don't you think? Thinking that maybe this year is different? Just keep one thing in mind when we go to DC needing to win 2 out of 3 from the last place Nats to make the playoffs: It's the Phillies. Buzzzz!!

Sunday Specials

Thought that your love for the Eagles could be no greater? You were wrong.

On a much less appealing note, I can't believe I know these people.

Finally, yet ANOTHER thing polar bears and Jed have in common.

Happy Labor Day, bitches.