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…