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.

The Sloth is not intended for younger or sensitive readers!

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

¿Dónde está mi dinero, las rameras?

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Monday, September 12

Whining, pictures tell the story, silly rabbits

Some pictures ARE indeed worth a thousand words. 1000 + 7 + these 3 = 1010 so far.

1000 more words. 2,000 more words. Actually, make it 4,000. Heh. Can we be THIS pissed at a guy responsible for these? Lookat them nips. I wouldn't mind if little Barbara showed me her FEMA...

This chick's name is Busy Phillipps. She is starring in a new UPN show called "Love, Inc.", and certainly there will be some "You GO, girl"s and "Uh Unh, no he didhent"s in the script. I am of course not taking advantage of the thousands of easy jokes, double entendres and crude observations I could be making based on her name. All I can say is, I kind of like the heart-shaped chair.

I'm sure it smells quite glamorous.

THIS guy thinks the Cubs will be able to vault over the Asstrolls (and the Brewers, and the Fish, and the Nationals, and the Mutts, and the Phillies) to win the Wild Card. Let's enjoy the recent spell for what it is: .800 ball with the pressure off. Guys can go about their biznass nice, and easy, and Dusty can even play Matt Murton with some semblance of regularity. Life is good, this is the way it should've been all year. Now, let's see how they do with a renewed pressure to win on their shoulders.

Speaking of 5 1/2 game leads...the Tribe is On the Warpath, tra-la tra-la...

The Bears? Who Cares? They don't even get their own picture.

I saw three football games this weekend, and my team lost by an AVERAGE of 25 points.

Friday night, on a whim, I went home to see my alma mater, "4A Football Powerhouse", get their dicks handed to them by fucking Braidwood. That's like watching midgets run track, I tell ya.

Saturday night, my elder son's team, "4A up-and-comer", played the undisciplined, penalty-ridden, poorly-coached, unorganized Public League school we bus in every year for our usual and customary cupcake dessert before we start conference play. "Them coons" earned about 250 yards in penalities, mostly on personal fouls and offsides, seems like they've never heard of "on two" before.

Thank God, because without the penalties, they would've beat us by 70. As it was, they won by 30, because my kid and his friends are too busy playing grabass to bear down in the weight room, to bear down at practive, to bear down at the games, and if they "do their job" and "fill their gap", that's all that matters.

Um, fellas? Quite often in life, you have to give something more than the minimum daily requirements to succeed, in life, team.

And, as if life was a magic video cassette, I watched my youngest's team get smoked, in the same manner, by the same margin, for pretty much the same reasons.

Perhaps if kids these days actually WATCHED a real football game, rather than played one on the PS2, they would see that the game, at its highest level, requires constant motion. Nobody stands around, everyone is running somewhere, nobody goes to "his spot" and stands there. Well, unless you're Randy Moss. Or some other heathen like that.