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?

¿Dónde está mi dinero, las rameras?

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Thursday, October 20

Yes, it's Chuck's picture. He can sue me if he wants

I just like it, so Chuck, if you want to sue me, bring it ON, big boy.

I suppose I shouldn't let the occassion pass without mentioning my feelings on the final shape and size of the World Series. After all, it pits a team who has never won a pennant, against a team that happens to wear the word "Chicago" on its chest when it plays on the road. So as a baseball fan, I ought to be goddamn giddy, huh?

Anyone who has been in a hospital in the last three years has heard the nurse ask the patient "On a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?" (On an aside, every time I hear it, I cringe, because my straight-ass bitch cunt of an ex-wife was and is a big-shot in the world of nursing, and I remember her being on a committee in charge of making all the nurses in Northern Illinois remember to say this). Anyway, on a scale of one to ten, how much do I care about the World Series this year, one meaning the Cardinals are playing the Yankees, and ten meaning the Cubs are one out away from winning the whole thing?

Put me down for a two. I intensely dislike the AssTrolls, but I suspect that has more to do with the recent rivalry, and less to do with the sheer unabated hatred I feel for the Evil Satanic Fowl and their inbred fans in Missouri. So I guess if the gun was stuck in my mouth, and I had to choose, this is what I would pick in order to avoid swallowing lead. And the White Soxes, well, we've already painted that fence, haven't we. Good team + bad fans = boring to watch.

I'm probably going to miss the opener Saturday night, because I'm going to a weenie roast downstate, no lie. Few things the Sloth loves more than the smell of a fall bonfire, even if I have to smell it at my brother-in-law's house. He's ok, I'm not too stoked about his wife or her family. See, if I'm wrong about something, I will be the first to admit it. But otherwise, you get exactly ZERO chances in life to get in MY face and bitch at me over something I had no control over, or something I did that WASN'T wrong. She exceeded her quota, and I don't care if she gives me a zillion dollars, or cures cancer, or teaches the whole world to sing, in perfect harmony. She'll always be personna non-grata in my book.