art core....velay

so i have not posted in a while, and i apologize to my friend josh, as he is the only one in the in cyborg/internet world who would ever notice. so, sorry josh. in the days to come i will post about many awesome things, such as the things meagan and i argue about, halloween, a footprint i found in my soup last month, hockey, bowling, hockey-bowling, and the NC state fair.



for this issue, however, i would be remiss if i did not mention that i am currently the champion of baseball. that's right, me! the champion! because i win at baseball! i am somewhat worried and confused about why this had to happen right after i moved south. but whatever, the phillies are the world champs!



having never had this experience, i'm not really sure how to feel about it all. the eagles are the perennial champs of licking their own butts, and then getting infected butts because they can't even do that half-way decently. and the phills, bless their little hearts, are never any good. well, they sometimes do ok and position themselves for the wildcard. but this is where it has always ended; in my lifetime the excitement has never resulted in a world championship, and every year the phillies have proceeded to not only shit all over thier playoff bed, but have succesfully scratched out my eyes and pissed all over my hopes.

at the start of this year's playoffs, the phills prospects again seemed bleak (well, they did to me). even when they were doing well, it was if there was no respect or hope for them, as indicated by the following: "The toast of Philadelphia is Matt Stairs, a balding hockey player with a squat body who was once nicknamed the Wonder Hamster."

(balding hamsters aside) i watched the playoffs in southern bars, twitching nervously as we slowly progressed into a contender. i even waited for a sign from above (like, say, a hale storm) that a world championship was never meant to be and that the phills would do as they always have and soon collapse.

well, as indicated by my joy above, this never happened. thus, when the last out was made, i jumped from my bar stool and yelped with such joy it sounded as if i had been trapped in some sort of orgasmatron machine.

so thanks, phills. ill never forget this! well, i won't forget this until next season, at which point i will forget and hate you again.