A Reorientation of Drubbings Has Been Ordered By Circumstance
My servant Jew bruited to me the happening that my services has been rendered tranfert to the Bengali Tygers of Cincinnatus. Fortune smiles again on the sons and daughters of Eireland! Aye but, my job is to replace that of the headstrong Ryan of the Fitzpatrick clan. Press on, son. Your merit is to be seen in this coil or the next.
Cincinnatus is a place not much in accordance with Spanish St. Francis. For one, they eat a vraiment so named chili, for reasons not in evidence, that includes neither potato nor grog. Odd, though pleasing. In this conurbation, there exists very few stations for a man to make his living. Quarteredbacking, after all, is the prize of the privileged few. Ack! Careful O’Sullivan, lest you be stricken with the vainglory. Their plight of penury means only more time to skepticize my quarteredbacking. I shall not fail them.
Happenstance does smile upon me as I report that, compared to Spanish St. Francis, intrusions into my rectum in the main are at a lower frequency. This does well for my overall disposition. With the good, do come the not good, as I say wretched remains the state of my new squadron of fellow footballers. The quarteredbacker ahead of my-self on the depth chart has been laid low with afflictions of every type, including the dreaded cleft shuttledick. While this creates promise for the Dispenser of Haymakers, it concerns me to the constitution of these footballers. As the father said, the Weak of Constitution Are Bound For The Outcome Of Least Desire. Words that will very likely never escape me.
Months remain to get the haymakers to their greatest potency for new opponents. But now a wild-eyed receiver attempts to gain my attention. What does he say? He raves manically of car boats. If only his genius could be used for good…
March 6th, 2009 at 10:53 am
Ack!
So he’s really Bill the Cat?
March 6th, 2009 at 10:54 am
Tracer Bullet: Dispenser of Haymakers.
I’m putting that on my business cards.
March 6th, 2009 at 10:57 am
Cleft dick- Bill Simmons alter-ego.
March 6th, 2009 at 10:58 am
A Harvard alum playing for a Yale alum? How will they ever co-exist?
March 6th, 2009 at 11:01 am
I often wonder what is the favored drug of choice of each of the KSK writers. Because, for example, there’s no way in hell that Ape was clean and sober when he wrote this.
March 6th, 2009 at 11:04 am
@ BBR….sounds like an absinthe moment.
March 6th, 2009 at 11:04 am
Under who’s roof shall our privileged pugilist abide? Who’s roof indeed?
March 6th, 2009 at 11:08 am
T. Herman Zweibel approves
March 6th, 2009 at 11:12 am
Wow. I consider myself to have a pretty good vocabulary, but I could never pull this off. Nice.
March 6th, 2009 at 11:14 am
Dude, that hurt to read. I’ll take a Hines/Pacman combo over that any fucking day!
March 6th, 2009 at 11:16 am
I recall watching the doughty hibernian at the Polo Grounds. He stopped Paddy McLonergan in the 98th round with a skull shattering left hook.
March 6th, 2009 at 11:30 am
jt of the family o’sullivan is easily my favorite kskharacter. his appearances, however infrequent, never disappoint.
March 6th, 2009 at 11:32 am
It looks like he is ready to deliver a proper thrashing.
March 6th, 2009 at 11:36 am
“Weak of Constitution Are Bound For The Outcome Of Least Desire” will be added to my favorite quotes on my facebook profile and Mike Tunison will be given credit for it.
March 6th, 2009 at 11:51 am
I never rememeber JT of the Clan O’Sullivan – but relish in the moment when I fugure it out.
This is “Far and Away” my favorite irish decendant quarteredbacker that plays for the Bungals.
March 6th, 2009 at 12:02 pm
Will the coming donneybrook, a broohahah if ye will, feature the Queensbury Rules, or shall it be Rough and Tumble then?
March 6th, 2009 at 12:27 pm
It’s doubly funny when read as Conan O’Brien playing 19th century baseball.
March 6th, 2009 at 12:28 pm
If only John Thomas were less verbose, he might be quicker to get rid of the swine-skinned ellipsoid to avoid the sacking of the quartered-back, accompanied by a hearty fumbling
March 6th, 2009 at 12:29 pm
Maybe he’ll be able to keep his teammates from many a ride in the paddywagon.
March 6th, 2009 at 12:56 pm
I think I see 30 dead men walking…
March 6th, 2009 at 1:23 pm
You had to have the mick making fun of a jew, didn’t you? Not all irishman are racist you know (I know Maj, the jews aren’t a seperate race).
March 6th, 2009 at 1:27 pm
That improvident lackwit needs a phrenological examination.
March 6th, 2009 at 2:04 pm
Um, bully?
March 6th, 2009 at 2:33 pm
“That improvident lackwit needs a phrenological examination.”
wow.
March 6th, 2009 at 4:54 pm
@ Slothrop: Though apparently under the aegis of guiding organization, contests shall be rough and tumble, no doubt; or as in the argot of the common grappler, “catch-as-catch-can”.
‘Tis indeed vexing to the mind when one considers the eternal conflict betwixt the fair sporting ideals of the gentleman philosophers of the Press-Box and Commissioner’s Office and the dearth of civilizing influence to be found–O! By base and savage necessity!–in the actions routinely undertaken upon the green of the playing-field.
March 6th, 2009 at 6:00 pm
I hope someone writes in to the mailbag with cleft shuttledick.
March 7th, 2009 at 10:58 am
Inspired.
March 7th, 2009 at 12:41 pm
I love the J.T. O’Sullivan character. Bully, and huzzah!
March 7th, 2009 at 3:34 pm
UU:
“It looks like he is ready to deliver a proper thrashing.”
I’d call it more of a “Much-merited fustigation”
March 8th, 2009 at 11:56 am
See Weintraub, this is how you were supposed to do it.