Sweet Uncle Lou’s Diary: May 9, 2007

“Oh, that’s terrible!  The ball is on the ground!  Oh, and so is Izturis.”



Damnit. We lose one f@#$ing game in May, and suddenly they’re not letting me and Trammell get Rothschild drunk in the clubhouse to the point where he pisses himself? And we can’t even drink on flights? It’s going to be awkward as hell groping all those stewardesses sober. I’ll still do it, but I’m just saying it’ll be awkward. Thanks a lot, you St. Louis lushes.

Some idiot thinks I’m a good manager because I’m old and fat. Thanks for the compliment, dickhead. I’m sure you’re a good sports writer because you’re lazy-eyed and fish-lipped.

Hey, guess what. When our OBP started going up, we started winning more ballgames. I don’t know what’s more shocking, the fact that happened or the fact that I’m actually happy that these guys are showing more patience.

Just when I thought ESPN couldn’t suck any worse, they’re actually televising the MLB draft. I guess they ran out of “World’s Strongest Man” competitions and Playmakers reruns to air in that time slot. I can’t see the appeal of watching teams choose a bunch of kids who will disappear for 5 years before maybe coming up during the September call-ups. Christ, I’m going to be dead before any of the kids drafted are in the Majors. If you needed any more proof it’s an idiotic idea, Cliff Floyd thinks it’s cool.

Murton-lovers, rejoice. We’re seeing left-handed pitchers the next two days, so I’m going to get the redhead into the outfield.

Sorry, but I get a little cranky with the same old stupid questions about the lineup every day. I’m not going to let some skirt tell me that Pie should be starting or Jacque should be buried under two tons of garbage. It also didn’t help that Floyd hurt his back the other day because his bed was “too soft.” Who is he? F@#$ing Goldilocks?

I like how The Muskrat has the power to choose which questions to answer in her Mailbag, yet she chooses ones that annoy her. I would have guessed she’d written this version of the Mailbag on the rag if I wasn’t so sure she was devoid of a female reproductive system.

Wow. Tony LaRussa is a real hero. First he defends my team from the big, bad St. Louis media. Now, he’s taking all the responsibility for his team sucking my white ass. Next thing you know, he’ll be blaming himself for setting a bad example for the young players on his team.

Remember when Sandberg was the strong, quiet clubhouse leader? I sort of like the new screaming lunatic version better. His players must, too, as Sandberg’s Peoria Chiefs are 16-13.

The Yankee version of Prior is getting a fourth opinion on his elbow. Hell, just get five. Then, you can at least say, “Four out of five doctors agree: Carl Pavano is a f@#$ing pussy!”

Well, I have to get ready for the game tonight. Marquis against Godzilla, or whatever the f@#$ that kid’s name is. I have to go buy permanent markers. We’re going to get Rothschild blackout drunk one last time, and then we’re going to write on his face. I have dibs on “INSERT COCK HERE” with an arrow pointing to his mouth. Awesome.

-Sweet Uncle Lou

Lou's Diary

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