I think there may be a fair number of you who have “The Bottom 126” tagged who may not have gotten the news that The Bottom 126 (along with the rest of this crazy operation) has moved to Hire Jim Essian! The content at the new domain is going to be virtually identical to the content here, so please update your bookmarks. Oh, and I also tagged this entry with every other tag, just in case you have one of those tagged. Hope to see you at the new site.
Archive for the 'Sweet Uncle Lou’s Diary' Category
We won again. Yay. But our pitching sucks. Boo. But Soriano hit a leadoff homer. Yay. But he high-fives like a homo. Boo.
“Don’t you guys still do the ass-patting thing over here?”
Honestly, if the pitching is going to be this crappy, I’d rather take an extra bat north than a 12th pitcher. I don’t mean a hitter. I mean a wooden bat. And not even a game bat. The one that Trammell uses to hit grounders to Ramirez (or, as Trammell and I call him, “Dorn”).
Speaking of pitching, Miller might be my fifth starter when the dust settles. Why? Did you see Prior pitch the other day? That kid is about as tough as an $80 steak, and as Mike Krukow points out, it’s time to stop putting baby powder on his candy ass. It’s time to put up or shut up, Golden Boy.
I hate walks. Hate ’em. It’s called “hitting,” not “walking,” dude. Nah, I’m just fucking with you. You should have seen the look on your face, though. I do hate walks, but I hate when our pitchers issue them, not when our batters take them. You know who else hates them? Zambrano. So, watch out, walks. If you see me and Big Z walking toward you on the street, you’d better just cross your ass over to the other side, put your head down, and just keep on movin’.
Mr. Fancy Pants Sissy Boy wrote an article about Miller being the 5th starter over at Desipio. If you’re not sick of all the bullshit he shovels around here, you might consider going over there to read it.
Well, I have to get going. I want to get a good seat in the dugout so I can watch Maddux picking his nose with reckless abandon throughout the whole game. Didn’t that guy ever learn there are cameras pointed at those dugouts?
-Sweet Uncle Lou
Yeah, I’m writing this during a game. What of it? No one’s paid a lick of attention to me since I got here, anyhow, no matter how much I scream and yell. By the way, that little speech already matched Dusty Baker’s “bitch the team out” total in the three years he was here. Wait. It was four years? Man, that guy really was a pussy. I made Prior cry during the talk, but only once. I’ll try harder next time.
Either he misplayed that ball, or that ball weighs 80 pounds.
In case you haven’t heard, Kermit and I are writing over at Desipio for a while to help that Dolan kid out. Dolan’s a good shit, even if he’s making more work for us. Kermit put up his first post today, but the idiot can’t figure out how to link it to the Desipio message board. Nice work. Real professional, Kermit. You’re making us look like a couple of chumps. Anyhow, Kermit writes about how Zambrano and Lilly are batshit crazy, yet forgets to point out that I’M THE FREAKING POWDERKEG, BITCHES!!!
Here’s a question. What am I supposed to do with the eighteen #5 starters that Hendry collected for me? Marquis is clearly a lock in the #4 spot, just because I want to see if I can give Hendry another grabber. But then I have Prior, Cotts, Miller, Marshall, Guzman, Marmol, and about 50 other guys who all keep sending me boxes of chocolate for the 5th starter spot. I’ll wait until next week, when 14 or 15 injuries thin the herd.
The Sun-Times‘ “Tribune on Trial” series gets even dumber with this interview of The Score’s Mike Murphy. I’d like to give that dude an enema with the gravy from Brown’s Chicken.
McDonough was talking shop the other day. One of the things he mentioned was that Selig bitched us out for spending too much money during the offseason. I was surprised to hear that, seeing as how I thought Selig died three years ago.
Prior and Wood still aren’t hurt, no matter how many banana peels and Micro Machines I leave lying around Prior’s locker.
Well, I gotta go. Zambrano is screaming about something and Prior’s curled up in the fetal position at the end of the bench.
-Sweet Uncle Lou
Well, laa-dee-fucking-daa, we won a game! Lots of catching up to do. Sorry I didn’t write over the weekend, but I was too busy shitting bricks about this team. Good God. When you people say “curse,” you just mean “this team sucks at everything fundamental about the game of baseball,” right?
Don’t think we’ve forgotten about Pearl Harbor, you son of a bitch.
Zambrano has already lost his fucking mind, saying that we’re going to win the World Series. This team couldn’t win the College World Series. Of course, hardly any of them went to college. Except Prior and Samardzija. And of those two, one acts like a girl, and the other one has pretty hair like a girl, so shove your schoolbooks straight up your ass. What was I saying again? Oh, yeah. Z is nuts.
To recap our pitching: Wood has an 18″ penis, Lilly looked very good, Marquis is guaranteed to suck, Zambrano is guaranteed to be awesome, and you might want to consider selling any of your autographed Prior memorabilia now before it’s too late.
Not that it’s news, but Ozzie Guillen is a complete ramrod. I’ll have more on that story later, but take it from me. I’m going to enjoy bending him over a Gatorade jug six times this year. Cover your bunghole, mang.
I hope you bastards tuned in yesterday to watch me on “Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel.” You didn’t? Yeah, I guess that Gumbel is pretty annoying. To tell you the truth, I didn’t even watch it. It was bad enough sitting through the interview.
So, the Tribune, Buster Olney, and this crappy rag ALL ran stories over the weekend about a Fire Lou Piniella site, and not ONE of them mentioned this site. Yet this site does! What the hell is a “Desipio”?! Ha ha! Fuck you, Kermit!
Felix Pie is pretty good, but I’m worried. With a name like that, it’s only a matter of time before Hendry puts a big scoop of ice cream on his head and devours him.
Did I mention I’m already sick of this shit?
Oh, and if you were wondering, former Cub Jerry Hairston Jr. had to have been using the wrong kind of performance-enhancing drug. His performance was about as enhanced as mine in bed after drinking whiskey for 10 straight hours.
Funny story. I walked into the clubhouse the other day, and Barrett was freaking beating the hell out of his junk with a baseball bat! I grabbed him, and I was like, “Barrett, what the fuck are you doing?!” He said, “I’m testing out this new cup I bought to protect my damaged balls. It doesn’t seem to work very well.” I looked down at the bench next to him, and I said, “You mean that cup?!” He looked all sick, and then he passed out. Jesus, he’s not too bright, is he?
Well, I have to run. Me and Rothschild are going to take Prior on a snipe hunt. A long, looooooooong snipe hunt.
-Sweet Uncle Lou
Are you idiots in panic mode yet? Ha ha ha! I know it’s only Spring Training, but good LORD did we suck today. I didn’t think it was possible to suck that much. How the hell do you give up SEVEN unearned runs? Moore? Cedeno? Can you tell me how you give up seven unearned runs? Do you remember? Scott? Two throwing errors? Ring a bell? Ronny? Your fielding error? You’re not here for your bat, son, and you’re certainly not here for your looks. In fact, you look like a turtle. You’re here to play defense. If you can’t catch the goddamn ball, you’d better start learning how to do whatever the hell they do in Iowa.
I know you’re thinking, “But, Uncle Lou! It’s just one game of Spring Training. Can’t you cut them some slack?” Just one? Just one. Next thing you know, you’re having “just one beer,” getting “just one tattoo,” and doing “just one hit of meth.” And then you’re this guy:
So pardon me for demanding perfection.
But I guess tomorrow’s another day. Isn’t that some profound shit? Who the hell do we have tomorrow, the Angels? Oh joy. I hope that roided-up freak Gary Matthews, Jr. doesn’t snap and start killing people. I only have 85 outfielders on this team (thanks, Jim) and I can’t afford to lose more than 80 of them. See you tomorrow, chumps.
-Sweet Uncle Lou
It’s the last day of February, and you know what that means. No more celebrating black history! Starting tomorrow, I can be as mean to Jacque Jones as I want to be! It’s going to be great! I know you panty-wearers are dying for a diary update, so I won’t keep you.
Hey, Jim, thanks for the cool shortstop action figure, but who is seriously going to play short this year?
It’s admirable that Bruce Miles is still flying the “Dempster is the closer not Wood” flag. Wood is ready to go, and I can’t imagine I’d leave Dempster in there for long if he sucks as bad as he did last year. I give it another week until even Miles gives up and realizes that Dempster is about as good at closing as Jason Marquis is at starting. Holy crap, both of those guys are on our roster, aren’t they? Muskrat screwed up another one of my interviews, suggesting that I’m “happy with Dempster.” What I said was, “I’m happy with Dempster bloated and floating face down in a hot tub.” Simple mistake.
Soriano had better hit 40 homers and swipe 40 bases. If that roided up freak show Canseco can do it, Soriano can. By the way, Canseco, how did that 1990 World Series work out for you? Hmm? How was it? Did you and your “
butt bash brother” have a nice time? Hmm? Heavily favored going into that Series, weren’t you? What’s that? I couldn’t hear you? “Yes, Coach Piniella, we were heavily favored”? Is that what you said? Who won that Series, anyhow? The Reds? Really? It must have gone seven games, since you were so heavily favored, right? No? Really? Only four games? Wow.
Well, that’s all for me today, kids. You may have noticed less swearing in this installment of my diary. My wife made me give up swearing for Lent. Wait. I don’t think that means I can’t write swears. Cock balls shit. Awesome. See you soon, sluts.
-Sweet Uncle Lou
God damnit. I didn’t get a chance to write this weekend because Daryl Ward sat on my laptop, so now I’m all backed up. I’ll try to catch up. Here we go.
Here I am showing the guys how to swim. In the desert.
Gerry Perry already has these idiots practicing swinging more than they did under Baker. Wait. Wasn’t them swinging too much the whole problem last year? I gotta remember to go talk to Perry.
buggy-whip: (v.) to swing an object rapidly at another object so as to accelerate an second object to a ludicrous speed
Usage: A Boston Globe reporter wrote a completely pointless article, so I buggy-whipped him with my johnson.
“Prior is going to be held back,” I say, two days after tickets go on sale. “Just kidding! Prior is starting our fifth Spring Training game,” I say yesterday. You Cubs fans are too easy. Go wash out your skidmarks.
This dude invented a fridge that catapults your beer into your hand. On a related note, I finally found a use for Marquis.
You know what would be awesome? If Hendry sent Jacque Jones down to the minors during the spring to “get him some more at-bats,” and then never called him back up. That would be as hilarious as the time I pantsed Rothschild in the middle of a practice and started pointing and yelling “Eenie meenie tiny weenie!” Seriously. Tiny.
In case you woke up this morning all optimistic and bright-eyed, keep in mind that I have declared Marquis my number one starter. Ha ha! Just kidding. Only in Spring Training. Seriously, though, Marquis fucking SUCKED last year, and he’s our fifth starter. Not to mention the fact that you probably throw harder than Wade Miller. Now go find yourself a length of rope.
Bruce Miles writes a brilliant article. Why is it brilliant? Because it’s about me. All me. It’s about me kicking ass. It’s about me winning games. It’s about me cock-punching that stupid goat. Read it. Love me.
This article is ridiculous because they didn’t post any of my real answers to the reporter’s questions. The real answers are below.
1. One thing on your nightstand: A box of Big Jimmy Extra-Large Condoms. Some used. Some not.
2. One thing on a wall in your living room: Hendry’s balls.
3. One thing you have in your house from your childhood: Naked pictures of the first girl I banged. When I was 12.
4. Three condiments we would find in your refrigerator: Extra Fucking Spicy Tabasco Sauce, K-Y Jelly, Marshmallow Fluff.
5. Three things we would find in your medicine cabinet: I’ll tell you what you wouldn’t find: Viagra, deodorant, tampons (unlike Prior’s).
6. Do your dirty dishes go in the sink or dishwasher? Back in the cupboard.
7. If you had to save one thing from your home, what would it be? My gun collection <kisses biceps>
8. What is the biggest collection in your home? See #7
9. What reading material would we find in your bathroom? Porn. I like stuff with 2 or 3 chicks.
10. If we looked under your bed, what would we find? Jason Marquis. That guy is in my fucking nightmares.
Wood still looks good. Not that kind of wood, you queers.
Mike Harkey is the new AAA pitching coach. When is this Kermit asshole gonna get to that pansy on his little list?
Oh, crap. I have to get going. I’m late for a “coaches’ meeting.” Yep. I have to go meet Coach Daniels, Coach Walker, and Coach Cuervo. Talk to you soon, fools.
-Sweet Uncle Lou