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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Tuesday, September 14

Declaration of War

I'll tell ya what has toasted my taters today.

Doubtlessly, if you have visited the Sloth, you have heard of the Yahoo! Cubs Coven, the best damn Cubs discussion group ever, the home of such sage Cub minds as Berkeley Stew, Hawkeye, IowaFrank, Socherball Adam, and of course the most fierce and witty Brett Kuntz a/k/a BK, aka Campo, aka JoePep, aka Lurker, aka HarryChappas, and a host of other handles.

Around the time of the 1998 Wild Card, the forums and bulletin boards like CubsTalk, CBS Sportsline, and the Tribune's own were started and staffed by the brainwashed, the deluded, and the simply other words, Generation X. The moderators of these boards were similarly lacking in history, perspective, and longevity. For those ass clowns, who were Cub fans since, I dunno, June, the Cubs were ALWAYS great, that at the time, they were constructed great, they were destined to remain great, and they really could not cotton to anyone who thought otherwise.

So much for free speech.

So, for those of us who would point out that Gary Gaetti was NOT a permanent solution at third base, that Jeff Blauser was not merely having a "little slump", or (in my own case) commit the blasphemy of calling Sammy Sosa a sideshow fraud and a steroid cheater...well, that would just get us TOS'd (tossed) from the board.

So Stew started his own board on Yahoo, invited a few of us thirty-somethings (and older) die-hards, issued the disclaimer for all to see (since he IS a lawyer) that this was a Thinking Fans Cub board, for those who actually saw and remembered the Bonham/Burris/Ontiveros era. Well, Stew actually saw and remembered the Lon Warneke era, but he never holds that against the rest of us.

Any and all attempts for the blue Kool-Aid swilling Cub lemmings to infiltrate the board have been dealt with swiftly, sarcastically, with prejudice and foulness immeasurable. It was during one such session that I was branded as an "uncouth sloth" by Hawkeye, and I must say, it was the best nickname I've ever received.

Well, yesterday, I put in my two cents worth out there. I have not posted lately, for the same reason why I've been avoiding comment out here, instead subjecting you to glossy pictures of actresses and long-winded essays on hockey games.

I fully expected the Cubs to win the division, to challenge for 100 wins, for the pitching staff to be dominant, and basically assume the personna and aura of the '85 Bears, '90s Bulls, and '98 Yankees. Due to injuries galore, an initial lack of a leadoff presence, and the constant lack of a closing presence, compounded by a stunning lack of fundamentals, a stubborn insistence of relying on the long ball as the only offensive weapon, and the remarkable lack of poise the Cubs have shown all year long, I am DISCOURAGED!!

The Wild Card is a complete crapshoot. So many things must go your way for it to apply to you, and under ANY circumstances, even the best (as in Anaheim '02 and Florida '03), the Wild Card does NOT suggest long-term dominance. Who actually thought the Fish were DOMINANT last year?

I would be happy to follow the Cubs with the blind devotion of a small child, if only they earned it. Nothing short of a true dynasty is enough to earn my complete unconditional faith.

Anyway, that's all I said. And then, some little frustrated newspaper hack from Indiana snots back: "Have a good winter. Me and everyone else will root the Cubs to victory!"

If you personally know of a Jim Hekel, who writes for some smalltown paper in Indiana, and if you can verify that he suffers from Down's Syndrome or some other kind of debilitating circumstance that limits IQ and the ability to reason, do NOT hesitate to write me, for I honestly DON'T get off on bashing the truly helpless people of the world.

Until that is verified, all I can do is sit and wonder who helped him log on, and how horribly filthy his keyboard must be, when you consider that most of the time, his fingers are either up his nose, or jammed up his ass crack.