It started out as a Cub blog with cuss words. I'm still cussin'; it's the Cub part I'm a little squishy on these days.

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Bruce, we gave you tha keys, and THIS is what you brought home?

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Monday, August 9

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Hope you all have a good week this week, whether you push paper, dig ditches, serve as a tour guide for erotic homosexual art, or play shortstop for the Chicago Cubs.

This is actually going to go as the Good, the Ugly, and the Bad, but obviously that doesn't have the same ring to it.

The Good

I have told this story a zillion times, and probably you share the same feeling, but it is usually very obvious when you see Quality, and in 1986, as Greg Maddux was being jocked around by the National League, it was obvious that this boy knew how to pitch. If the Lou Brock trade was the most damaging trade in Cub history, the Greg Maddux negotiations of 1992-93 come in a close second.

I don't honestly think that Tom Glavine is going to reach 300 wins, and actually, I wasn't sure that Maddux himself was going to reach this plateau this year, either. The accomplishment is even more impressive when you consider that this so-called "marketing ornament" has stepped it up with two amazing complete game victories when the team needed them most, and has emerged as the leading winner on the team.

Greg Maddux, my most hearty congratulations for your 300th career win!!! This might be the last time any of us see this again.

The Ugly

I am going to do a most un-Sloth-like thing, and just dismiss yesterday's gang-fuck as just one bad game, just one loss. Nothing worked, nearly everyone played like shit, and every man of the Giants outfield pulled catches out their asses to beat us.

The next roll starts tomorrow!

The Bad

If something happens this year, and we do not make the playoffs, or if we do, we lose in one of the rounds, the majority of the blame can be placed at the swollen feet of Samuel Peralta Sosa, professional cocksucker prick.


Not Sammy Sosa.

Did you see the game yesterday? Barry Bonds walked twice. He went to the opposite field with an outside pitch for a single. He lashed a double down the line. Even his out was constructed to move the runner along. Barry Bonds can suck Satan's cock in hell. But Barry Bonds is a ballplayer. Even in the surreal surroundings in which he is forced to ply his trade, he has not lost sight on playing situational baseball.

Sammy Sosa, regardless of the game situation, takes every swing as if his life depended on it. When he was at his peak at hand-eye coordination, he averaged 60 homers a year. Now, that his hand-eye coordination has deteriorated, does he adjust?

Does he allow himself to be put down the order?

Does he listen to coaching? Does he take extra practice, extra precautions? Does he do what is best, for the TEAM?

Does he care about the team? Or does HE think HE's the team?

The Cubs owe him $17 million next year. If they trade him, an option for 2006 for $19 million automatically kicks in. Therefore, trading him is completely, utterly impossible! We are STUCK with him for one more year. His enormous salary makes it impossible to pursue quality free agent outfielders, a necessity since he and Alou are both aging.

I cannot possibly express with mere words, how badly I hate this shit-sucking hermaphrodite.

But if he walked into my office right now, I would pick up this 2 pound granite paperweight I have sitting on my desk and hit him over the head with it. Then I would shove my arm as far up his ass as I possibly could, and pull as much of his intestines out of his hole as I could, then I would cut it up and feed it to the fucking geese outside my window.

What do I have against the geese? I get their shit all over the soles of my shoes, then I walk in my house, track it all around, and my wife yells at me. Yes, I do too fucking WIPE!! It's just everywhere. So they deserve to choke on the fucking entrails of the steroid-sipping prima donna goatfucker.