Dear readers galore, my salient and oft ornery colleague Mr. Allen Krause may have called you to arms, to take up that proverbial weapon of action, to boycott Opening Day in a move to overthrow the Major League powers that be; but ne’er forget:
The shots of la resistance can ne’er be reversed.
And Opening Day is too important an event to just… swat away with the hopes of passing a message up the chain to get King Bud out of the commissioner’s office.
STOP THE INSANITY!
Look, I don’t like Bud Selig either. A simple skim over the thousand+ RSBS entries will yield a Bud-bash… or fifty. And I agree with Mr. Krause’s (and, obviously the public’s) perception of the man; but my friends, he’s going to retire in 2012. He is MOST DEFINITELY going to RETIRE in 2012.
We’ve put up with the shenanigans this long… another year or two won’t kill us.
Indeed, it will make us stronger.
And knowing that we baseball fanatics need our baseball, need our Opening Day pomp and circumstance, well, that just makes it that much more insane to consider giving it up. Trust me… I have personally experienced a similar dilemma:
While delusions of Erin Andrews’ golden locks and Kim Kardashian’s bangin’ booty may entertain most of my non-baseball related thoughts, the real me needs some real attention too. BUT, the dating world is a cruel, mean, awful and disgusting place. It whips you. It slaps you. It sticks your teeth on a curb and stomps on your head.
I know this.
But I need women… and if it means I gotta wade through muck to get at ’em, well, then that’s just the way it has to be. I can’t just BOYCOTT them. That would be… that would be…
The same goes for baseball and especially Opening Day. I already got the whole event planned, from sunrise to sunset. And Bud Selig ain’t gonna get in the way of that.
Amidst the Pujolsian panic terrorizing the otherwise somber pre-spring training minds of baseball fanatics worldwide, we at RSBS nearly lost sight of an extremely exciting development inside the raucous Tea Party movement. That’s right, folks! The Tea Party is publishing their very own magazine!
And don’t worry, dear readers… as you have come to expect, we are a step ahead. In fact, our loyal RSBS interns have already managed to infiltrate the teabagging ranks to bring us a sneak peak at some of the headlines from the inaugural issue!
How to Incite Armageddon So We Can All Go Back to Sitting on Jesus’ Lap In Heaven
By Mark Williams
Monkey god, go home! You can’t put a mosque next to or around the corner from a US American institution like McDonald’s! That’s against God’s plan, to make everyone fat and die so they can go be with him again…
The Whosie-Whats-Its of Duping America
By Sarah Palin
Some people call it smoke and mirrors, I call it using catchphrases that hockey moms will be able to repeat after their husbands have beaten them for the night. A bridge to nowhere… lamestream media… road to ruin… See! If I can do it, anyone can, even Republicans…
How to Use the Term “Teabagging” to Your Advantage
By Pat McGroin, Kraven Moorehead & Howie Feltersnatche
First of all, work “teabagging” into your everyday lexicon. If we all teabag the way we should and are devout in our teabagging, the phrase will simply lose its funny connotation, especially if you’re teabagging your mother who might be teabagging your neighbor who might teabagging himself…
And finally, the feature article…
An Introduction to Hate: The N-Word, The F-Word and All Around Bigotry
By Dale Robertson
If it’s different than you, if it don’t look like you, if you don’t like it ‘cuz it ain’t you… hate it! That’s all ya gotta do. Holler at it and bark at it and scream at it and gobdabbit just hate it hate it hate it…
– – –
Not sure what the cover price is going to be, but I am sure that it won’t ever be forked over from my wallet.
Hate me ‘cuz Dale Robertson says to, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Note to King Bud Selig: If you wanna sell your product to a bunch of guys, hire Kim Kardashian for your spots… not Dane Cook. Not Bon Jovi.
Chicks, Bud. Hot chicks.
Maybe I’d settle for Reggie Bush. Maybe.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
While on the subject of tragically sweeping heartache, I guess by now everybody knows that Kourtney Kardashian is preggers with that toolbox Scott Something-or-Other’s kid, once again dashing my dreams of landing her on my “fantasy team” and rendering one of the hottest (and dumbest) free agents officially off the market.
Great. Just great. First some spazzbot ruined any chance I had at “getting close” to Erin Andrews by sneaking into her hotel room… and now this?
Still, dear readers, let us remember that it is often in the worst of times that we find the truest and simplest joys in life. Sure, the Cardinals got swept in the NLDS. But hey, we’re not the Cubs! True, President Obama hasn’t solved US America’s economic crisis… or the health care crisis… or, well, any crisis. But hey, he’s not George W. Bush! And well, okay, Kourtney’s probably not gonna have my baby now. But hey, at least I’ll never have to face the awful task of actually listening to her talk for any length of time!
Not that I would have anyway, ‘cuz, well, y’know, hers is one of the most annoying voices “like um, y’know, like, ever or whatever.” I’m just sayin…
I think I’ll leave that opportunity to Mr. Krause. He’s always been the adventure half of RSBS.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m sly, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.