Earlier this season, I enumerated just a small litany of ways in which Baltimore would barely qualify as a third-rate bombed-out township in the Gaza Strip. I could continue to list these ad infinitum, though I fear my hate would consume all of existence.

More than being possessed of a massive persecution complex that results in them being massive dicksmacks, I loath Baltimore fans for their false sense of toughness. I’d like to think that’s what rooting for a bunch of talk-talking, post-tackle-dancing, bounty-hunting drama queens will do to a fanbase, but I fear the problem runs a little deeper.

An instructive story:

I was at a game at an interleague game at Camden Yards in the spring of 2004 (this being still when the Or-ee-oos were the closest available MLB team to me) during the brief period when the Ravens were trying to orchestrate a trade for Terrell Owens which he nixed in favor of going to Philly (even T.O. isn’t dumb enough to want to play for the Ravens). The game was between the Giants and the Orioles, yet an entire section of Eagles fans had gotten tickets for the express purpose of chanting “WE GOT T.O.! WE GOT T.O.!”

Yes, at a game between the San Francisco Giants and the Baltimore Orioles, a group of Eagles fans had bought up an entire section at a baseball game and driven in just to taunt people from Baltimore about a football transaction that had taken place in the off-season. And this wasn’t a quick little chant. It went on FOR FOUR FULL FUCKING INNINGS! And nobody tried to stop them, save shooting them the occasional ugly look.

See, I respect the doucheiosity of Philadelphia fans. Because they’re legitimately scary. Truth be told, I’d be nervous attending a game at the Linc wearing visiting team colors. Not M&T Bank. Sure, pretend hard-ass Ravens fans will threaten you plenty if you show up in a road jersey. Stabbings, ass-kickings, other vague and unconvincing intimations of violence, what have you. And they’ll act on exactly none of it.

Because behind their (FEARSOME!) purple camo and plastic chains, they’re a bunch of exurban bitches wracked by insecurity. And guilt for having stolen a franchise. And the trademark Baltimore inferiority complex. And a Who’s Who of infectious disease.

Oh, how I hate them and everything in their city.

Okay, that’s not entirely accurate. I enjoy The Comics Curmudgeon guy. His wry take on the daily funnies never fails to brighten even the darkest day. The best part about him? His work is on the Intarwebs, meaning one need not visit Lord Baltimore’s herpetic lesion on the Chesapeake Estuary to access it.

For the rest of Bawlmer, let me extend to you my fondest Festivus greeting:

DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

Preferably getting capped in the street like Bodie.