Bahstin Hamlet Laments Red Sux’s Hahrrible Staht


To be or not to be, that is the fahking question;

Whether it’s noblah in the mind to suffah the slings and arrows of outrageous Halo fan postahs,

Or just realize the season's in the crapppah, and forget about it…

Oh, that this too too sullied flesh could resolve itself into a Mountain Dew

and just get like fahking knocked ovah and be done with.

To die, to sleep,

Perchance to wake up and see one's ol’ lady next to one

and want to die again—fahkin-a, there’s the rub.

0-and-fahkin'-6!!! I don’t think I can have coitus again

with my little bare bodkin.


(Continued after the jump...)



For this season they said we was gonna win it all—

A thought that must now give us pause.

For who can bahr that Crahwfahd is hittin like a buck seventy-six,

The proud Lestah tankin’ it,

The oppressive thought of Lahkey goin undah—

            Can’t even eat my chowdah.

And Dice-kay—what the hey?!

            The ol’ fakhah ain’t got nothin’ left in the tahnk

            And that fahkah Epsteen—fahkin broke the bahnk.

And hehr we was told we was goin all the way!

Only to be 0 and 6 today

Fie, fie on it! It cannot, it must not, be good.

It’s an unweeded gahden that goes to seed

Speaking of that—where’s the fahkin’ weed?

“Hey! Ophelah! Get your ahss in hehr, sweethahrt!”

Shitski, thaht bitch could get laid in a nunnehry…


O that that dream of the Series pennant flying above Fenway

Like they're always sayin’ on ESPN,

Puzzles the will, and makes us want to drink a case a’ Sam Adams in ahr basements

Rather than watch us drop anothah to the fahkin’ Tribe or the damn Yanks, for Christ’s sakes.

Ahn me with my fahkin’ wicked hangovah.


And thus the wicked bahdness of our beloved Sox

Is sicklied ovah by the crappy pahformance of this yehr’s team

Ahn even plahyahs with great pitchin' movement on their slidahs,

Like Clay B, with this regahd, lose the name a' action

Ahn we will continue into total suckage,

Probably swept by those fahking Halo bahstahds this season…

Man, this shite ain’t hahppened since 1947

I know they’re havin a pahrty now at Halo Heaven—those jehrkoffs.


But Christ! Here comes Ophelah!

Good, cause I got a wicked hahd-on.

“Get ovah hehr, babe, and say hi to my Boston Bohdkin!”

And fahk the Sohx—the rest is sihlence…


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