Saturday, October 21, 2006

The Devil and Baseball

I’d like to clear the air here a bit at the Blog of Stupid. If you’re a regular reader of our comments (indulge in stupidity lately?) then you’ll be aware of the accusations of Satan worship leveled at me, your faithful helpful and pleasantly scented Blogger.

First, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I’m reasonably intelligent. This is difficult, because I have to disagree with my brain. It’s always like, “Psst. FooDaddy. Um…You’re a bit on the lousy side,” and I’m all like “Hey, that’s not very nice,” and it’s all like “Neither is being such a poo,” and I’m like “Quit it. I’m trying to drive,” and it’s like “You forgot pants again, you bum,” and I’m like “Uh, that’s the style nowadays. It’s New Wave,” and it’s like “Stop saying ‘like’ all the time. Makes you sound like a cheerleader,” and I say “That’s it. I’m not giving you any more coffee and ice cream.”

And then it shuts up.

With that out of the way, would any moderately intelligent person consider Satan worthy of praise? Think back to any time in your life that you suffered at the hands of someone who was being a bastard just for the fun of it. Now imagine yourself singing nice songs to this person. See what I mean?

I have to admit, though, that it’d be funny to hear it.

Hymn for Satan Worshipers

(To the tune of “Our God is an Awesome God”)

Satan makes a crappy god
He is a schmuck from Hell below
Spreading malice hate and greed
He’s a crappy god

At the scene of a car accident: “Wow! Thank Satan you’re okay!”

Sneezing: “Satan bless you!”

Dinnertime: “Dear The Devil, thank you for this meal, and bless the one who prepared it…”

Bedtime: “Now I lay me down to bed; hope I don’t wake up dead. I’ve got myself to thank; if I make my soul yours to gank.

So yeah. I apologize to any devil worshipers who may be reading this (Nordby?) but your engine’s missing a couple pistons.

And now my take on baseball.

I’ve been to only a couple of baseball games in my life, and I left them all before they finished. The most exciting thing I remember happening at one is my mom getting hit right in the chest by a foul ball, and that really wasn’t any fun at all. Especially for her.

But what does stick in my mind is something I’m sure a lot of you have wondered. You notice this because, as The Girlfriend stated in one of her stupid indulgences (comments) these men wear tight, ballerina pants. Baseball players are conditioned athletes, rigorously coached to cooperate and play as a single unit…

So the question is why do so many of them seem to be cursed with rogue privates? You get the impression that if they didn’t keep a close hand on them, they’d wander all the way into the stands and frolic under the bleachers and eat people’s popcorn. This does not fit the definition of “rigorously coached”.

You have to admit, that’d make the games a bit more exciting. “What the heck is that? Holy crap! Step on it, quick! It’s trying to get my nachos!”

But then again, I’m not really into sports at all. I resent the idea that they’re somehow “manly” because, taking two “manly” sports, you’ve got football, which is men in tight pants jumping all over eachother, and professional wrestling, which is men with NO pants jumping all over eachother.

Now boxing. There’s a sport that has testosterone all over it. Couplea guys punching eachother until one of ‘em falls down.

Grunt! Makes y’wanna go out and steal food and drag some women back to your cave.


Jack W. Regan said...

Foo, you may get a medical bill in the mail soon, because I think I burst a vital organ or two reading this. Brilliant stuff. I almost missed it, because apparently we were all posting around the same time. Pshew!

That's a good point about wrestling, too. I never thought of it until now. And I wish I wasn't thinking about it now. Guys with no pants jumping all over each other. Now THAT is the work of Satan.

Anonymous said...

Hey, I laughed so hard I nearly puked.

Raymond Betancourt said...

"rogue privates"...the next time baseball adds an expansion team, that should be their name.

Just imagine the mascot.

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

Drive-By: That's an excellent idea, and I hope to see you rootin' for the Rogue Privates next time you're in...whatever state they're from. Idaho?

Pickle Weasel: The way I remember the Awesome God song going, my re-write would be sung thus:
Satan makes a crappy god he is
a schmuck from Hell below
Spreading malice hate and greed He’s a crappy god

But you know. I had to keep the verse structure (as I saw it on the Web) intact.

My argument against my own alleged connection with The Big Brimstone was fairly well laid out. I state that I am intelligent. I give reasons why Satan worship is NOT. I then allow the reader to make his or her own judgement.

Although it is true that I suggest that you may be a henchman of the Crappy One toward the end there, I merely intended to convey that someone who has Satan on the brain so often may have alterior motives.

Jack W. Regan said...

Pick, I think FooDaddy was operating under the admirable, but misguided, asumption that someone from Idaho would immediately grasp what he was attempting to convey. (Bad move, Foo. I know you meant well, but all that open space and bumpiness out there tends to make a person caddy-whumppused. Pick is a classic example.)

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

Ooh. Wow. You're right. Ulterior. Geez, and I fancy myself literate.

Pfft. Hitler didn't have a blog.

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

Oh, wait. I also forgot to mention that I was homeschooled 'til third grade. So anything above the third grade level has taken a very tenuous hold in the ol' gray matter.

Anonymous said...

Pish tosh. It's etymological. Al Terrier was the first interior designer. But he came down with a bacterior infection and forgot how to pronounce his name. Hey presto-- alterior. It means the behind end of an ulterior, upside down. An alterior motive is the one you can't see because it's behind you. The ulterior motive is the one hidden under the rug your wife paid too much for to impress her secret boyfriend. Simple as that. It's all due to Brand's Law: 90% of everything is crap.

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

Ha. Yeah, take that.

Jack W. Regan said...

You guys are so silly. (I say this in the voice of Sid the Sloth from Ice Age.)