“My band of soaks. My den of dissolutes. They don’t hear the little ones crying!”
This is my Cubs musical set to the music of Les Miserables!
“Have you seen how the foreman is fuming today? With his terrible breath and his wandering hands.”
Ricketts said everything’s fine and we have Reed Johnson so we’re good.
“Why won’t daddy give me more money to waste on this crap?!” At the beginning of this, Daddy Ricketts said Tom’s allowance was sealed and he wanted no part of this purchase so “you’re on your own kid.”
“Sitting flat on your butt doesn’t buy any bread. The rain can’t hurt me now. This rain will wash away what’s passed. This is my last chance!”
He can’t get a vote of confidence from Ricketts and he shouldn’t get one. He hasn’t won anything as the general manager. He has spent a ton of unnecessary money that the Cubs don’t even have. Yet somehow, everyone who meets the guy loves him. But this time, it’s over. OVER.
“How can I ever face my fellow men? How can I ever face myself again?”
Oh Mike… I believed in you, I really did. You waited your whole life for this. But my lord did you just make a fool of yourself over and over again. Your press conferences were the stuff of legend in folly for anyone covering the team. Your best “locker room” guys even called you out. But I wish you well. Bon voyage on your next gig as the lovable yet moronic bench coach who always begs the question “whaaaaa happpenedddd?”
“Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men? It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!”
I’m Wrigley and I’ve had enough. Put me to sleep and move this sorry @$$ team to the suburbs and let me go gracefully into the good night as a music venue and historical landmark for a team that did nothing but make people cry over the last 100 years.
Yea. Kinda. The master does dole out the charm and his open palm is FULL OF MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF DOLLARS.
Why should we hate him? It’s not his fault Jim Hendry is DENSE BEYOND HUMAN RECOGNITION. He gets blamed for far too much. He got old. Ok? If he was scouted better by the Cubs they would have seen he couldn’t be a 30/30 guy anymore.
And alas, our old friend…
“Crying at all is not allowed. Not in my castle on a cloud.”
You’re right, Z. Crying is not allowed. Stop being a horrible jackass who apologizes two days late. Embrace the fact that you are a gigantic male member and own it.
It would be awesome if someone would bring me home from this wretched excuse of a team with REAL FANS WHO DIE TO BELIEVE EVERY EFFING YEAR…
Follow Johanna on Twitter!
And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
Jeff and Johanna (well, mostly Johanna) push the boundaries of political correctness, in that, well, they don’t see any boundaries. At all. Hot dog! They also get into pretty much anything and everything, including but not limited to Miggy Cabrera’s drinky-time, Albert Pujols’ year long stranglehold on Cardinals fans, a beyond the grave interview with Ron Santo and much, much more… all to make you have happy ending!
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Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
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*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. Keith does it all, yo! If you haven’t already, please check out Keith’s crew and subsequent podcast at Undercard Films. They’ll make you laugh. They’ll make you cry. They’ll make your face hurt! In a good way!
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Recorded Saturday, February 19, 2011
And, of course, crazy cool!
So as we take a few days off to celebrate the holidays, please take a moment to pat yourself on the back for being such a fantastic RSBS dear reader and enjoy your free time by watching one of the best live duets of all time! Seriously, if this performance doesn’t leave you reaching for the brandy bottle, something just ain’t right.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and long live baseball!
Jeff & Allen
Let’s see… in recent days we have learned the following:
The Yankees DON’T always get what they want.
The Red Sox have TWO closers, neither of which commands any fear.
And Al Qaeda is going ALL OUT to make this Christmas a very special one to remember.
Er… wait… that was…
I’m just glad that children’s choir Christmas concerts in Racine, WI will always maintain the traditional standards of the holiday season:
Like they say, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
Hate me ‘cuz I be trolololololol’n, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
This past weekend left me a little shaken. Over the course of a single evening, I heard four different Village People songs. The most disturbing aspect of these events, beyond the fact that the Village People are still being played outside of weddings, is that I had completely forgotten about their existence and didn’t realize until that night some of the songs that belonged to them. In the Navy? Go West? And more than that, how is it possible that people missed the ****-erotic overtones well into the 80’s?
It got me to thinking.
What else have we completely missed?
I mean, we willfully ignored the steroid era in baseball until it was no longer possible to suspend disbelief. Jeff still refuses to admit that the Tigers would have won the Series in 2006 if it wasn’t for those errors by the pitchers.
Sometimes those moments of delayed recognition are fun. Like when a name pops up on the screen during a baseball game and it’s a guy whose baseball card I owned when I was younger. Sure, he never made it big, but he’s still toiling in the majors. Or when you see Miguel Cabrera in a Tiger uniform for the first time and it takes you a second to realize who he is and that he’s on your team now.
Most of the time the moments aren’t quite so idyllic, though. Curtis Granderson in a Yankee hat. A guy who should have retired a couple seasons earlier still out there hacking at balls he can no longer hit. That’s a little closer to how I felt at the end of the night when YMCA started to play and I realized it was time to go.
Not content with being just the son of god or co-author of the best-selling book in history, Jesus has been on a rampage as of late. Whether showing up in professional athletes’ thank yous or inspiring American presidents into wasteful wars thousands of miles away from American shores, JC has moved up in the world from simple carpenter to internationally recognized architect.
In honor of Jesus’ (pronounced a la espagnol) spate of success, it only seemed fair that we honor him like we have honored other life changers. But how do you go about honoring a man with such an impressive resume? The hits are so well-known that repeating them just seems, well, repetitive.
So, we came up with another measure. Every best selling artist has a set of secondary works that, although impressive in their own right, never make quite the same splash as the ones set on repeat. However, maybe it’s time they get a little airplay of their own. To that end, RSBS would like to present Jesus’ greatest B-sides.
We’ve all heard the story about how Jesus gave someone the confidence or the extra push they needed to make it through something difficult. But what about the guy who wasn’t able to get that second wind and ended up flat on his face 2 miles short of the marathon finish line? Was it because Jesus tripped him? Turns out that Jesus really is always there and often responsible for the failures. In fact, we now have proof (although it is only available via an artist’s rendering of the occasion).
Just the Two of Us
There’s nothing wrong with having an imaginary friend. I had one named Paul when I was growing up. Sometimes that imaginary friend can be a big d!ck, though:
Jesus Hates the Cubs
No list would be complete without the modern day favorite and RSBS production, Jesus Hates the Cubs. And it’s extra funny because it’s true:
So, there you have it, a contemporary hit list of JC’s lesser known smashes. Keep ’em coming, big guy. You must have another Crusade in you at least.