Thursday, June 12, 2014

Jon Danger Hirsch does not give a fuck about nicknames

Jon Danger Hirsch, aka Meatball, aka Kickstand, aka Red Sea, aka Stumpy, aka Logs, aka Crotch, aka Chuckles, aka Mission: High, aka Playground, aka Freedom, aka Sarge, aka Body Heat, aka First Born, aka Sasquatch, aka La Mision, aka First Come First Spermed, aka Silver Tip, aka Foggy Bottom, aka Bubbles, aka Bubba Coke, aka Bubba Blow, aka Bubba Slopes, aka Prong, aka The Intruder, aka The Incubator, aka Barley, aka Wheat Germ, aka Boils, aka Gutter Balls, aka Alley Love, aka Nose Machine, aka Kitty Litter, aka Front Door, aka Side Exit, aka Airplane, aka Peaches, aka Cream, aka Johnny, aka Penicillin, aka Nine Nostrils, aka Poor House, aka Fancy Tits, aka The Jew of the Nile, aka Dessert First, aka Pulp, aka Short Sword, aka Swordplay, aka Roid Balls, aka Oklahoma, aka Now And Never, aka Sun Child, aka Doc, aka Bob Saget, aka Colonel Stiffy, aka Blow House, aka Rape Whistle, aka Bareback, aka Sidewinder, aka The Doorman, aka Johnnie, aka Hot Dog, aka Hot Links, aka Professor Testicles, aka Senor Muffins, aka Yeti, aka Sport, aka Tip, aka Rod, aka Slippery Gooch, aka Sugar Beet, aka Horse, aka Donkey Nuts, aka Monkey, aka Slappy, aka Kosher Bacon, aka Nail Gun, aka Torch, aka Statue of Puberty, aka Slurpee, aka Toe Jam, aka Apples, aka Pasta Sauce, aka Mayor Vagina, aka Mayor Boobs, aka Mime Troupe, aka Peanuts, aka Lickity, aka The Hebrew Hustle, aka Muddy, aka Mudder, aka Mud balls, aka Muddy Gooch, aka Mudhen, aka Toledo, aka Eggs, aka Tel Aviv, aka Sizzler, aka Outback, aka The Straw That Soaked the Camel’s Back, aka Doggy Door, aka Brazos, aka Moses, aka Big Moses, aka Lil Jacob, aka Possum, aka Possum Balls, aka Semen Sock, aka Sperm Gun, aka Wildfire, aka Buttdigger, aka The Mechanic, aka Sloppy, aka Lil George, aka Big Rizzo, aka Lil Mike, aka BJ, aka Fingers, aka Toes, aka Racer 69, aka Jewlicious, aka Hebrew National, aka Cock Snot, aka Coke Snot, aka Coke, aka Slopes, aka Sugar, aka Soda, aka Dog Dick, does not give a fuck about nicknames. Jon Danger wants some hits. Hard ground balls through the pitcher’s wickets. Soft liners over third. Seared fastballs into the gaps.

This is not about the Philosophy of History, guys. Nobody invited you here to think. Last I checked nobody’s last name was Hegel or Kant. We’d prefer you hit. “Drop some Braj,” is it, how they say? John Fucking Ratto is not walking through that door. Toddamus is not walking through that door. So to hit we need momentum. And for momentum we need camaraderie. As a very wise man once said, no matter how funny the accent: “We may not have much, but at least we’ve got each other.” So let’s fucking act like it. And get out to ballgames. And give each other shit online, especially the simple ones (like the ones whose SS#s are 56#-8#-####). (they can take it; they don’t always know what’s going on). And then hit like you’re still the cocky 18-year-old whose best friend’s girlfriend is dying to sleep with you.

Tsunami Several, All Blacks Uno
Gigante shoved. Defenders flailed. Enjoy Your Lipper raked. The ABs ran out of gas.

Tsunami Lots, All Blacks Dos
We’re not the ones trying to start a Southern Hemisphere war between the two inbred alcoholic adrenaline-junkie junk-toothed outcasts of the English-speaking world. All Blacks is a kiwi Rugby team (union? Probably. Maybe 7s? who can be bothered? Who can’t be fucked?) The fact is we’re the ones with the real Aussie and the ABs seemed much more Burlingame than Shire.

Thor pitched a helluva game in heavy heat, especially considering he spent several of the first hours of his day gathering patience in right. Rizzo heartily supported him, coaching even, all the way from centerfield. Quiet Guy made a career play up the middle, attributed the safety meeting between games. Gigante took about five hours to get some Gatorades. Daniels and Taylor looked 20 at the plate, 49 in the field. Taylor refused to hit it where they ain’t.

Bump Kings
Zero nominations received by deadline.

Hot Sticks
Enjoy Your Lipper, 8-11, 64 RBI.

Daniels, 0-0, 2 RBI.

Thor and Quiet Guy had some hits, too, maybe a few others, but Taylor refused to send over stats in two weeks time despite years of begging for blog.

Glove Love
Thor!: New solution at shortstop: get these pitchers diving, covering some ground!

Quiet Guy: Ok, so let’s not talk about Game 1. Let’s just remember Game 2 and the Alomar-like range and throw to a giddy, scooping Everchill.

NSFW: Incredible dive and glove. This category dos not necessarily include throwing.

Vinnie Chase didn’t fuck up. Who else can say that.

Jake Taylor: 9 innings. Zero injuries.

But in reality there’s been some really shitty gloveplay lately, and it can’t all be blamed on Mercury in retrograde and an overhyped Seth MacFarlane acting debut. Catch the ball. Throw the ball. Score one or two runs and let the pitchers do the rest.

NSFW: “It’s hard to film and fuck at the same time. It’s doing a math problem and . . . fucking.”

Self-Esteem League
12-10-5. First game in 14 months. But remember: yes, we are talking Co-Ed here.

Basepaths (or, This Week’s Adventures In Dying):
Technically it wasn’t a base-running error. Just a miscalculation of speed. CS does not equal picked off.

And then there was the time Old Crowe threw up the brakes before the parrot-armed LF picked up the ball. Thank you, Tsunami, for not stopping.

Game Balls
Gigante, sure.

Thor, sure.

Enjoy Your Lipper: SURE, SURE.

This Week’s Tsunami Spotlight: An Interview With Second-Best Friends

Jonh Danger Hirsch: 26. 3/17/87.
Laser Show (Rizzo): 27 already. 8/23/86.

JDH: Sherman Oaks, CA.
LS: Whappinger Falls, NY.

LS: The Yankees, of course!
JDH: Dodgers, man, all the way.

JDH: Is that a real question?
LS: I think we’re both gonna say the back of her throat, obviously.

JDH: The draft. Like five, six years ago. Think I was wearing like a painter’s cap and a belly shirt.
LS: Trade, actually. We met some shady guy at the draft, then that night he called and said he was trading for me.

LS: As in Tom and me. Black Label. Moved across the country together—figured we should get to play together.

LS: Think they traded like a bunch of first round picks and some meals.
JDH: It was a BBQ. And one first rounder. A low one at that.
LS: Total steal.
JDH: Here we go blowing the coaches again.
LS: Foundation of a team. For brisket. You must appreciate the thriftiness.
JDH: Awesome. I’m sure Daniels needs the ego boost.

JDH: I don’t think either of us even thinks about it.
LS: Did he kill Jesus? Personally? So of course we can be teammates. Hell, we can be friends.
JDH: And more than that.

LS: I don’t know what he means, actually.
JDH: You’re right. I guess friends and teammates covers it. (giggles)

JDH: Polk Street. North Beach, I guess.
LS: We hang in the Mission too. When I have cash. When I’m not planning on getting some anyways (winks).

JDH: I’m just gonna say his smile.
LS: His arms. Of course his arms. But his mustache is his second-best feature.

JDH: Bradley Cooper.
LS: Vinnie Chase when he’s tan though.
JDH: But Bradley gets tan too. Give him an afternoon in Santa Cruz.
LS: Either way they’re one and two.

LS: When I was fourteen.
JDH: Bull-fucking-shit.
LS: Wait, are we talking about finishing too?
JDH: What do you think?
LS: I’m pretty sure penetration counts.
JDH: Well, in any case, you’ve again won the sympathy vote.

LS: I’m not gonna justify that with a response.
JDH: Probably the transfer. I don’t mind a skin once I have it on.

LS: I thought we were here to talk about baseball.

JDH: Peace is undefeated in wars.
LS: Long as you don’t call count the Middle East.

Two Or Three Of These Were Actually Said
"I'm so not homophobic, Dan, I have a couple of guys in my B.O.M.B." - Autocorrect

“No, you don’t get it—it’s the white half of me that teaches math.”  - TuLin

“Fine, so one’s ever called me Kickstand exactly, but I'm 6'5 and by all accounts proportionate.” - Gigante

“He was such a leader. The mustaches. Beer. And people still talk about the shower games he created. Legendary.” - Borenstein

“I did so much Goddamn blow last night.”  - Old Crowe

“The fatter the butcher the tastier the beef.” - Elevator

“Hey relax.” – Jake Taylor

“Of course I don't have any painkillers. Even if I did I wouldn't have any.” – Toddamus

“The funny thing is, I just started SFNABA as a tax shelter.” - Godfather

“Lots of times we don't even take our clothes off. We just lay there, eyes locked, and we talk. And you know what the amazing thing is? It's just as good. It's almost even better.” -Homewrecker

“Why the fuck is Pete named after a New Testament figure?” - Jon Danger Hirsch

“I also know Fraser’s worst moment. She has orangutang titties and bug eyes.” - Autocorrect

Cutting Room Floor
Something about Rizzo and Black Label trading places in their rooftop Jeter Fathead Gloryhole.

Going Forward
Topes. John. O.
Ribs and steak for Sal.
Gigante salad.
Thunder from Down Under.
Why not us? Why not, indeed.
Posted by Tsunami34 on 06/12 at 09:48 AM
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