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Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

I may not post as much as I used to…

OZY McCOOL:&#160 May&#160 not?

KORRIOTH:&#160 (snort!)

MERLIN:&#160

Ever’body’s gotta be a comic, don’t they? (sigh)

…but I sure as hell don’t neglect to post this.

Ten.

Denizens, when it became apparent that Josh “Crack” Hamilton wasn’t going to re-sign with the Tex-ass StrangerS, the hue & cry went up from the masses.

Paraphrasing, it went something like “Ohnoes!&#160 How are we ever&#160 going to replace our hero & Saviour?!?!&#160 What are we going to dooooooooo?!?!?!?!&#160 OHNOES!!1!!ON3!!!!!ELEVENTYBILLIONTRILLION!1!!1~

(Hamilton, for his part, iced up his ass & poured Crisco&#153 on the skids, what with his play tanking the last two or three games of last season, and him saying that Arlington “wasn’t a baseball town” and that it was “God’s will” that he and li’l Katie take as much money as Widdle Arte Morono Moreno would throw at them.)

Well, fast forward a few months…

…and the StrangerS (surprisingly, I admit) have the best record in baseball, and are cruising right along with some of the best pitching in the major leagues.

And “Crack”?

He and his Angels are nine games out of first, after only 32 played…and manager Mike Scosia actually had the temerity to bench his ass for a game.

After watching Josh Hamilton strike out five times in eight at-bats in the first two games against Baltimore, Angels Manager Mike Scioscia had seen enough of his struggling outfielder to know that he needed something more than just a pep talk. So rather than risk another poor performance in front of a national TV audience, Scioscia held Hamilton out of the starting lineup Saturday.

“It’s 100% a mental day,” Scioscia said of Hamilton, who had more than twice as many strikeouts (13) as hits (6) in his last nine games. “There’s no doubt that Josh is trying to find a rhythm in the batter’s box. Hopefully a day off to clear some cobwebs out … will push him a little bit forward.”

Hamilton, who flied out in a pinch-hitting appearance Saturday, went 1-for-4 on Sunday. He is hitting .208 with just six extra-base hits and 38 strikeouts in 31 games.

One remembers when it was more than an RBI per day, rather than more than a strikeout.

Now, guyz, I’m well aware that Our Boy Josh could very well turn it around tonight, and go on a three-month hot streak.&#160 “That the way baseball go”, as StrangerS manager Ron “Warsh” Washington is so fond of saying.

But for some reason, this passage keeps coming to mind.&#160 Something about pride & haughty spirits or somesuch…&#160

As you may have seen in the recent post, things down here have been a wee bit up tempo lately.

Hence I feel the overwhelming urge to say this:

37 days until my summer leave/liberty/sabbatical/respite/vacation commences!

Now I feel MUCH better.

ThatIsAll&#153

Story for you guys from nearly 15 years ago.

I had just proposed to Her Doublewideness not too long previous, and in preparation for the Wedding To End All Weddings&#153, I had moved into a nice little one-bedroom apartment in the Sleepy Little Town&#153 of Rockwall, TX.&#160 (Steffi, of course, had a key.&#160 That’s foreshadowing.&#160 Remember it.)

At the time, I was working two jobs – an eight-to-fiver in an office, and a dispatching job on the weekends for the courier company I’d worked days for previously.

As fate would have it, my graveyard relief at the dispatching job this one Sunday night phoned in sick.&#160 And, as fate would also have it, no replacement was available.&#160 Ergo, I would have to work a double shift.&#160 And also ergo (grin), I would be forced to work my eight-to-fiver on zero sleep.

Not a lot of fun.

Anyway, I phoned my then-fiancee, let her know the situation, and kindly asked her if she could come from Sulphur Springs, grab a change of clothes out of the apartment, and come to dispatch to drop them off.&#160 (At the time, I was in a t-shirt & jeans, my apartment was thirty minutes away, and an hour to my eight-to-fiver from there.&#160 No way could I have made it there and back – hence, the call for help to the fiancee. This is also foreshadowing. Remember it.)

Fiancee hemmed & hawed, but eventually agreed that yes, she could do this for the guy she was ultimately going to spend the rest of her life with.&#160 This was 1430 hours.

Fast forward to 1800 hours.&#160 I received a call from Fiancee Unit&#153, ostensibly apologetic, whereupon she said that she had to go to “church”, and couldn’t come down.

Long story short, I subsequently had to call my eight-to-fiver, report in “sick”, and went home after work to sleep until afternoon.&#160 Didn’t hurt my standing there, but Mondays were a hellaciously busy day at that particular company, and it didn’t help my cause any.

Now, at the time of Doublewide Fiancee’s refusal, I figured “okay, one-off, no biggie, not a hill I want to die on”, and ignored the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.&#160 Had I realized at the time that this was a Huge Honkin’ Red Flag O’ Doom&#153 as to her general dependability, I’d have never married the bitch.&#160 I’d have told her the minute she failed to come through for me, “Okay, sweetie, just drop off the key next time you see me, and have a nice life”.

Should’ve taught me not to ignore the sickening feeling.&#160 But hell – what do I know, hm?

I tell you this story, Denizens, to compare & contrast something that happened to me in San Diego last year at the mum-in-law’s funeral.&#160 Friday was the day of the service, and we started off for the chapel not having had time for a proper breakfast.&#160 So we grabbed a couple hot dogs each on the way.

After the funeral was the reception, whereupon there was fried chicken, pizza, mac ‘n cheese, Chinese, etc, etc, ad infinitum, ad nauseam.&#160 Particular emphasis on the ad nauseam – I posted a pic that I’m sure a couple of you saw.&#160 (Yes, that’s exactly how I was feeling at the time.)

Get back to our lodging for the week, and I’m…well, let’s just say I’ve had better days, mkay?

So here I am in the can.&#160 Doubled over in pain, and without going into TMI mode, Pepto’s not going to be of any help.

I’m still in my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, and I’m overheating.&#160 I need to get into a t-shirt & shorts pretty quickly, but I’m not in any condition to venture out from the can at that moment in time.&#160 So I send a text to Mrs. Venomous – “Honey, I need you to get me a t-shirt & my shorts, okay?”

Five minutes go by.&#160 Ten.&#160 Fifteen.

I’m starting to wonder just where the hell she is, when a thought from the Lord (and He’s the only one who could have put this thought there at the time) comes, unbidden, into my head.

“Have faith in your wife”.

Not three seconds later comes a knock on the door – “Honey???”

She slides the clothing under the door, I’m in t-shirt & shorts not too long thereafter, and all turns out well; the day is officially saved.

The point of all this:&#160 I have a pretty damned hellacious wife.&#160 She’s got my back.

JUST LIKE YOU SHOULD HAVE ALL THOSE YEARS AGO, STEFFI, YOU STUPID-ASSED BIMBO!

Mrs. Venomous – I love you.

Realm&#153 Headquarters to Southern Command – come in, please.

Southern Command, do you copy?

Good for her!

Read about it here.

This may not be a particularly “vicarly” thought, but if the Dubai government tries to sweep this under the carpet, this sailor’s shipmates need to have a severe “blanket party” with the bus driver. Those of you who have military service will know what I am speaking of.

[SCENE:&#160 Deep space.&#160 His Rudeness, Lord Darth Venomous is on his way back from a (ahem) personal errand…]

VENOMOUS:&#160 I don’t think I like the tone of your “voice”, Narrator.

[And just what were you doing out of pocket for so long, (sarc) my liege????? (/sarc) (As if we didn’t…gakkkkk…akkkkk)]

VENOMOUS:&#160 Comprehension & cognizant thinking aren’t your strong suits, are they, dickweed?&#160 (looks offstage, as the Narrator drops to the floor with a very&#160 hollow sound)&#160 Awright, Understudy, your turn.

[…from a personal errand, and is traveling in his personal courier, the Scorpion-class Excelsior.

A blinking console light catches the Admiral’s attention.&#160 He opens a channel.]

VENOMOUS:&#160 Excelsior, Venomous.

KORRIOTH (over speaker):&#160 Korriorh, Admiral.&#160 Stellar cartography update for you, sir.

VENOMOUS:&#160 Very good, Kor, shoot it through.

[He touches a few more switches and opens a separate channel to receive the download.&#160 After five minutes, the download completes and the software channel closes.

At that very moment, everything goes dark as Excelsior&#160 loses power & drops out of warp.

Lord Venomous sits there, non-plussed.]

VENOMOUS:&#160 No, Narrator, just wondering what to do when I get back.

[Get back, m’lord?]

VENOMOUS:&#160 Whether to Force-choke the p’tahk, or use my lightsaber to cut out one of his hearts.

—

Ever had an Ubuntu kernel update hose your system, Denizens?

That’s three days I’ll never get back.

Sigh.

From Bruins-Sabres last night.&#160 This was the first sporting event since the bombs went off at the Boston Marathon the other day.

Somehow, it’s gotten a little dusty in here, y’know?

Denizens, as you probably know by now, there were two explosions near the finish line at the Boston Marathon today.&#160 Latest count is three dead, 30 injured.&#160 (*UPDATE*:&#160 Now 12 dead, 50 injured two dead, 22 injured, according to Ace.)

This came from the Facebook page of one Nikki Kristof a few minutes ago:

Most inspiring glimpse here of the Boston marathon: runners who reportedly finished the 26 miles and then ran over to Mass General Hospital to donate blood.

And the least&#160 inspiring would have to be this bastard Kristof…blaming the explosions on Republicans.

The @nytimes is advertising its “free” coverage on mobile phones, hoping to use the tragedy to gin up marketshare; meanwhile, Nick Kristof springs into action, blaming the explosion on the GOP:

explosion is a reminder that ATF needs a director. Shame on Senate Republicans for blocking apptment articles.washingtonpost.com/2013-02-01/wor… — Nicholas Kristof (@NickKristof) April 15, 2013

Kristof, you cowardly little pussy, it’s a Damn Good Thing&#153 you are where you are, and that I am where I am.

Because if I were anywhere near you, you’d be getting your syphillis-infested, skanky, swishy ass handed to you on a platter RightAboutNow&#153.

Little doucherifles like you, Nikki, need to taken out back and put out of our&#160 misery.&#160 And one of these days, you’re gonna say the wrong thing to someone’s face, and he’s gonna rearrange it to where you need to take your meals through a straw.

And when that happens…I’ll stand that patriot to a beer.

Pansy-assed little chickenshit…&#160

(Oh, and as to the title of the post…Hey, Nikki, you little cuntmuffin – if you can do it, so can I, you asswipe.)

UPDATE the 2nd:&#160 Well, looks like the pusstard recanted.

People jumping on me for criticizing Sen Repubs for blocking ATF appointments. ok, that was low blow. i take it back

And that’s it.&#160 No apology, no mea culpa.&#160 Just “i take it back”.

What was it they said about toothpaste?

Not far from Realm&#153 Headquarters, at Texas Motor Speedway in FNFW (Far North Fort Worth), they just completed a night-day NASCAR double-header, capped off by the NRA 500.&#160 Kyle Busch took both ends of the twin-bill.

Now comes word that NASCAR is about to commit financial suicide.

NASCAR plans to become more involved in race-sponsorship decisions by speedways in light of the continuing controversy surrounding the National Rifle Association’s sponsorship of the Sprint Cup race Saturday at Texas Motor Speedway.

“The NRA’s sponsorship of the event at Texas Motor Speedway fit within existing parameters that NASCAR affords tracks in securing partnerships,” said NASCAR spokesman David Higdon. “However, this situation has made it clear that we need to take a closer look at our approval process moving forward, as current circumstances need to be factored in when making decisions.”

The “situation”?&#160 The “current circumstances”?&#160 Why, the whining, kvetching & sniveling du jour&#160 from the Lame-assed Limp-wristed Leftards&#153, of course!

In some respects, this weekend at TMS has become more about politics than racing for the NRA 500, as the sponsorship coincides with the current national gun control debate to become the prevailing storyline.

Democratic Sen. Chris Murphy of Connecticut wrote to News Corp. chief Rupert Murdoch asking the Fox network not broadcast Saturday night’s race because of the NRA sponsorship.

“Eez a vaddy nize tellyvizhan netvork you have zere, Meezter Ayyyyllllllzzzzz. A zhame, no, eef somfzink vere to happen&#160 to eeet…?”

Sources confirmed Friday that two drivers were advised by their public relations directors not to do interviews in the TMS media center so they could avoid having the NRA logo behind them.

Y’know, Denizens, I think now would be a damned good time to remind NASCAR that a goodly portion of their fan base…um, how to put this diplomatically?…happen to also be NRA members.

And if you backhand them, NASCAR, by backhanding the NRA…well, it’s been said that you’re doing this because of “backlash”?

Trust me, dumbasses:&#160 You haven’t seen&#160 “backlash” yet.

Tell 98% of your fan base to go fuck themselves…wow.&#160 Just.&#160 Wow.

I wanna be a fly on the wall for that.

Fuck the law.

Fuck Roe v. Wade.

Fuck 7-2

In fact, fuck those seven bastards who voted for abortion baby-butchering on demand.

Fuck NARAL.&#160 (Fuck NOW, for that matter.)

Fuck every last feminist who defends this barbaric practice.&#160 From Betty Friedan & Kate Michelman all the fucking way down to Gloria Steinem & Andrea Marcotte.

To Hell – literally – with every fucking last one of them.

This son-of-a-crack-whore-bitch is deserving of the most painful, agonizing death imaginable.

Period.&#160 End.&#160 Stop.

And don’t get me started on the @#$%(!!! media – you know, the one that won’t cover any of it?

Infant beheadings. Severed baby feet in jars. A child screaming after it was delivered alive during an abortion procedure. Haven’t heard about these sickening accusations?

It’s not your fault. Since the murder trial of Pennsylvania abortion doctor Kermit Gosnell began March 18, there has been precious little coverage of the case that should be on every news show and front page.

But it isn’t.&#160 And we know why, don’t we?

Fuck ’em.&#160 Fuck ’em all.&#160 With a rusty, steel-wire-wrapped, razor-embedded baseball bat.&#160 For starters.

God’s judgement can’t come soon enough on this country, if you ask me.&#160