Gorilla Stats -or- Real American Heroes

Celebrity Death Of The Week -or- We're Not Talking About Our Season

There are two names that come up when comedians are asked who they idolize in the business: Richard Pryor, and George Carlin. They're both fucking dead now. So it goes.

Carlin died last week at the age of 71, and ever since there's been a shit load of people saying very nice things about him everywhere you look. They are mostly dumb fucks, they annoy the shit out of me, and I imagine they would've annoyed him even more.

So we're keeping George in our thoughts. Somewhere between "This chair hurts my ass," and "Let's fuck that waitress!"

Of all the funny shit Carlin talked about, one line in particular seems to really apply to the Gashaus Gorillas. "Fuck hope."

Here's the boxscore from last week. Stats will be up in the morning.

I don't know how we're supposed to keep playing softball in a world where there is no Carlin or Vonnegut. But since we don't have much choice, we might as well have a theme night and kick Dynakleen's ass again tomorrow night.

Bring Bier.

Gorilla Stats -or- 2 +3 = 4

*You may notice that we've played five games, but only have stats for four. That is because I'm the only one on the team that can read and write, and I take vacations sometimes.

The Gorillas Would Like To Sell You Some Snake-Skinned Boots -or- Cobra Commander Was A Pussy

The guy you see to the right here is Snake Pliskin. If Snake, as played by Kurt Russell in Escape from New York, was a softball team, he'd be the exact opposite of the team we played this Tuesday past, inappropriately called "The Snakes."

I'd like to say that the Gorillas resemble Kurt Russell's Snake, but in reality we're closer to his Dean Proffitt, the carpenter in Overboard that convinced a then-hot and amnesiatic (amnesia'd? amnesiafied? amnesiastic?) Goldie Hawn that she was his wife, mother of his 4 brats, and that she swallowed. We'd totally do that if we got the chance.

I remember seeing Overboard as a young teen that may or may not have been on the verge of a prolific drinking career. Two scenes really caught my attention: the one where the brats super-glued plates to Goldie's hands, and the part where she opens her bier bottle on the edge of a table. Since then I have splintered many a table trying to open biers, and have spent many a dollar on paper plates, krazy-glue and hookers.


I'm not even going to get into the habits I picked up from watching Private Benjamin.

Gorillas Are Photogenic -or- Gorilla Stats

I've decided not to comment on last Tuesday's game, or the below pictures of hat night, except to relate this tid-bit: When I showed someone these pictures, they said, "Damn, your whole team is getting fat!"

To which I replied, as I believe all Gorillas would have, by saying, "Fuck you. We've been fat."

We'll try to lose a few pounds stomping on some Snakes this Tuesday @ 7:00.

(As usual, click on images to see larger version.)

Celebrity Death Of The Week: Inanimate Objects Edition -or- The Bier's A Little Warmer Today

William H. Macy was really, really good in Boogie Nights, Wag The Dog, and, of course, Fargo. And I'm pretty sure, although I never saw it, that he was really, really good in a movie called "The Cooler."

However, if someone says the words "the cooler" to me, I'm not thinking of the William H. Macy movie. I'm thinking of Mr. Robb.

Mr. Robb (pictured below) is the greatest cooler of all time. No one disputes that. But even Mr. Robb has his limitations. Last summer in Bloomington, he was almost pushed too far. There were too many blue yummies in him, too much ice, and some Ass tried to drag him, breaking a handle. Mr. Robb, great as he is, has his flaws.

Similarily, Mr. William H. Macy has his limitations, his flaws. Fargo was a classic; Wild Hogs, not so much. Mr. Macy is married to Fellicity Huffman of SporstNight (Yay!) and Desperate Housewives (Boo!) fame, and so he no longer says "no" to anything. Thus the load of crap he has acted in since The Cooler.

Not long after Mr. Robb came into our lives, JT found his brother from another mother, dubbed "Mistah T."

Mistah T appeared to be every bit as good as Mr. Robb, only he was often heard pitying the fools that thought there was too much bier in him. He was a great cooler, no doubt, but he did not know his limitations.

Similar to the decline of Mr. Macy's career choices, it was a wedding that ultimately did in Mistah T. The shocking wedding of JT to Mrs. JT apparently led to too much bier, too much ice, in Mistah T. Nothing besides loads and loads of bier could explain JT, an assumed a-sexual, getting married. Nothing besides loads and loads of bier could explain the untimely demise of Mistah T.

So today we mourn the loss of a cooler. A good cooler -nay! - a great cooler. But a cooler with limitations. And a cooler that was pushed too far. So it goes.

All that's left for us to do is remember the tale of Mistah T. Pass it down to our children, and our children's children, so that someday they will remember that all actors, and all coolers, have limitations.

[Oh yah, and it's hat night tomorrow (June 10th) - if it doesn't rain. Honor Mistah T by bringing his favorite: bier.]

Gorillas Stats -or- Oh The Humanity!

After awakening Wednesday morning to the New York Post back page headline: "Gorillas' Gruser Goes Gruesomely Lame" I thought it could get no worse for the Gorillas.

I was wrong.

Yes, we had just dropped a game to a bunch of zit-faced bus-boys & bar-backs -- but we'd lost games we should've won before.

Yes, we had just learned that O.G. (Orginal Gorilla) Flemwad had played his last game of the year, as he had been called upon to serve his country -- but it's not like it was Ted Williams going off to fly fighter jets in World War II.

Yes, we had just learned that Busch Light was going to be on sale at Buy Low for $11.99 for a 30 pack this Friday -- oh wait, that was awesome. Disregard that one.

Yes, we knew that Gruser was likely in traction down at the Posey County Veterinarians Clinic, and they probably had shaved his goatee (along with his ass) in emergency surgery -- but it was probably time for a new look for him anyway.

No, what made it even worse, was the telegraph we got from the team doctor later that morning:

"Snyder has broken wrist (again.) Stop.
Will be out 4 to 6 weeks (again.) Stop.
Will likely ignore rehab and stretch injury and whining about it out for a year (again.) Stop.
It was Beans' fault. Stop."

I remember exactly where I was when I read that telegraph again and again. I stood naked eating a bagel in the company kitchenette. A pained look came across my face. I burrowed my brow. I fought back a tear. And I thought to myself, "I really, really gotta remember to get to Buy Low on Friday and load up on Blue Yummies."

So anyway, yah we effectively lost 3 Gorillas in one shitty loss this week past. The MRI results have not come back yet from McGru, but we expect he'll be out for a while, and will probably have to play with one of those cones around his neck to keep him from gnawing on his leg when he does come back.

Luckily, we had a roster of 412 guys this year. Now we're down to eleven. And one of those is Baumgart, who is just an awkward nap at 2 o'clock on a Thursday away from having a back transplant.

Roster moves may be on the horizon for the Gorillas.

At Least We Had Plenty Of Ice -or- San Diego Grill Is Better

Not too long ago there was an earthquake here in what they call "fly-over" country. It wasn't a huge earthquake, but it was big enough to wake everyone up and knock the picture of Geovany Soto off my nightstand. We don't get a lot of earth-shakin' round here - unless you count that time we tried to build a human pyramid between innings - so it caught some people off gaurd.

There are lots of ways to react to a stressful situation. When the ground started trembling that early morning, the reaction from the Gorillas ran the gamut; from ignorance (D got out of bed and stop/drop/rolled) to apathy (Jeff continued to simultaneously play poker and look up kitten anime on the computer) to confusion (JT yelled at his mom to let him sleep just five more minutes) to panic (I ran across the street and fucked the neighbor's wife.)

So last night, when on the first play of the game McGru added a couple of knees to his right leg, I was curious to see how the team as a whole would react to seeing our emotional and facial-hair-growing leader go down in such pathetic dramatic fashion.

The answer? Not so good.

Sure, we gave it a valiant effort for a while, coming in and scoring four runs in the 1st and three more in the 2nd, but the gruesome injury obviously affected the team's mental state as the game wore on.

I'm not saying the team we were playing (I belive they represent L.A. Grill) doesn't deserve any credit. Obviously they were able to make enough plays to win. And that - along with coming up with a restaraunt with shitty atmosphere, a gimmicky bullshit menu devoid of taste, and a fuck-face snotty wait staff - deserves to be acknowledged. I mean sure, they were mostly little punks that failed their algebra finals because they were home playing Mario Cart and listening to Taylor Hicks songs instead of studying. And sure, they hit the middle like ten times, threw behind runners, and were unusually ugly. But they won the game, and for that, the Gorillas salute them.

That's the thing about the Gashaus Gorillas - we're good sports.

And next time we find ourselves in a stressfull situation, we'll be prepared.

There's a guy down the street that has a 19 year old daughter that looks like she's ready for a tornado.

Gorilla Stats -or- Red Rockets? More Like Red ASSES! HAHAHA!!!1!ONE!!@~!!

Warm Bier, Hot Lesbians & Smokin' Bats -or- This Post Sponsored By Mr. Rob; The Letter J

Way back in the day, when the Gorillas used another website to update our countless fans across the interwebs, we put out a list of "rules." They were kinda gay, but they were more or less a guideline to what makes us so successful at winning bullshit softball games on Tuesdays whilst being fat, drunk and mostly nonathletic.

While we've been pretty fucking good at winning, we've been even better at having a helluva time. And somewhere in the haze of a post victory celebration last night, we figured out exactly what allows us to have so much fun without ever having hot lesbians at our games.

Actually, it's three things: Winning, Team Chemistry, and most of all, Bier.

The great thing about Bier is that it's an integral part of us winning games and having good chemistry. If you've ever seen us getting our ass kicked and yelling at each other during a way-too-sober 6 o'clock game, then you know what we're talking about. Honestly, some of these guys are real assholes, so if we weren't drinking and hitting softballs, we would probably be doing meth and hitting each other. So yah, bier is important.

Breaking it down even further, there are two requirements for enjoying our bier. The first, is that we bring bier to the games. Obviously that's the big one. While we rarely have issues with that factor, it's not to be taken for granted. We greatly appreciate it each and every time a Gorilla rolls in with some of that liquid gold. That brings us to number two: the bier must be kept at a drinkable temperature.

We suppose that if we were thirsty enough, or if the hot lesbians encouraged us, we would drink warm bier. But we'd rather not.

Just sayin'.

Softball Is Hard -or- So Long, Sportsden. Hello Mama Romas!

We know that many of you Gashaus Gorilla fans have been clamoring for updates. But the truth is, we haven't really gotten started yet.

Sure, there was a Spring "League", but to be honest with you, we stopped counting that as a real league long, long ago. At least 10 months ago. Now, that's just a little spring training to make sure our arms are in shape, our beer coolers don't leak, and Baumgart still can't hit. (Check, check, annnnd check.)

We're not gonna bore you with the details of a practice league. Some stuff happened. Let's not make a big deal out of it.

The only significant occurences all spring were someone stealing B's glove - rendering him unable to play his standard gold glove defense (altho he still managed to hit a monster homerun in the last game) - and Melon's hair really getting out of control.

That's it.

But, hey-howdy!, the summer league starts tonight. That's right, despite the fact that we started this post about 3 weeks ago, today is actually the 1st day of the summer league! So put on your favorite Gorilla fan-gear, and come out to the Iglerock. (Bring bier.)

In honor of a new year begining, here's a little piece of memorabilia from last year. It's the scorecard from perhaps the greatest game in Gorilla history. Here's what we wrote about it then, but honestly, the post doesn't do it justice. Pour 10 biers in any Gorilla that was there that night and ask him about it, and you'll be regalled with a story you can tell your grandbabies.

See ya at the yard.

(Bring bier.)

(click on the image to see larger)

Hope Springs Eternal, Motherfucker! -or- It's Too Cold For This Shit

Okay, we didn't exactly come thru this past off-season with the Year In The Gorillas review, the player profiles, or even a Merry Fucking Christmas. Hey, some of us were busy doing other things, and some were just to drunk busy to be bothered.

But all that's gonna change. This time we're totally gonna post at least weekly! Seriously, we mean it this time. Honest!

So check back occasionally, be prepared to have your ass entertained right the fuck off, and feel free to chime in in the comments. Hell, if you really want to support the team, show up at a game or two. Just make sure to bring bier.

And dress warmly.

A Year In the Gashaus: Prologue -or- Get Sheen & Costner On The Phone!

At times, the east coast bias of the main stream media, specifically the “World Wide Leader in Sports”, is so blatant that we wonder why anyone west of Dunder-Mifflin’s Scranton office even bothers with it.

There is no more glaring an example than the cold shoulder turned to your beloved Gashaus Gorillas.

We didn’t expect to edge out Jeter, but gezus, we’ve got to be more “now” than some red-headed half a retard snow-boarder!

Here’s a team that has everything the media loves: the adorable characters and idiotic facial hair of the Red Sox; the inept leadership and sexual/racial insensitivity of the Knicks; the aching, aging veterans and foolish spending habits of the Yankees; the dominating play and questionable tactics of the Patriots. It’s the stuff three part fuzzy-focus segments on Sportscenter are made of. Hell, it’s the stuff shitty sports movies are made of! The only films Costner makes that anyone gives a shit about are about sports – why hasn’t he called us?

Go and watch the next goddam movie about Keanu Reeves taking some inner-city cliff-diving team all the way to the AstroDome for a match against Ben Stiller’s karate team made up of high school quarterbacks who have a sensitive side. And if you think it’s more interesting than a typical Taking Care of Business Night, well, we hope Berman steals your leather-clad chick from under your nose at the Holiday Inn bar while you fend off the unwelcome advances of a sweaty & drunken Beano Cook.

Yes, we realize that we’re not the best softball team in the nation, state, or even the city. There are a couple players on our team that we honestly would like to replace with a blender. (Sure, we wouldn’t be any better, but we’d all have a nice frozen daiquiri after the game. And that would be awesome.) We can tell you though, with a reasonable amount of conviction, that we are the coolest. Not in that mamby pamby “good-looking, nice-hair, and fucks-supermodels” kinda way, either. We’re cool in that “hey let me buy you fifteen biers because you’re so fucking money” kinda way. We’re more Barkley than Kobe, more Favre than Brady, and more Rafferty than Herbstreit.

So, in lieu of the MSM getting their heads out of their asses and giving the Gorillas some well-deserved props, we’re gonna spend a little time blowing our own [dick joke] horns.

While we didn’t blog about everything that happened this year, we hit on several high-points. And later this week, we’ll be posting a recap. It will be a must-read for all you Gorilla faithful. We are certain that, eventually, sports illustrated will toss it in a leather bound hard back, and give it away to new subscribers. Which means that at least 8 people will get it in the next three months alone.

Not long after that, we’ll be watching Charlie Sheen wearing a neck tie and playing 3^rd base against a Dick Butkus-led psuedo church team.

See you at the Oscars.

Gorilla Fall Stats

We're Goin' Streaking! -or- Go Crazy Folks!

Walk. Off.

Oh Yah, Happy Birthday -or- We Believe That Children Are Our Future

As you can tell by the scarcity of posts 'round these parts, the Gashaus Gorilla Softball season is winding down. And not a moment too soon. Not only are we a worn down team, but we really have nothing amusing to say.

Hell, we had to look for pictures of hot softball-chicks just to have a reason to post.

Oh wait, there is one thing we can write about.

We would be/have been/probably will be in the future remiss to not mention the birth of a future Gorilla. A couple/few weeks ago Al "don't call me Deezal" Critchfield and his wife Allison took delivery from the stork.

We don't have the date, weight, length, or color of eyes handy...but we are assured that it is indeed a boy, he has all 10 fingers and toes... and he will be pitching for the Gorillas in 2025.

(2025? Holy shit. Over/under on Gorillas still alive at that time is 7. And yah, we're looking right at you Baumgart. Those steroids are gonna come back and bite you in the ass, big-time.)


So hey, here's a belated happy birthday to Connor, and a congrats to Al & Allison for continuing the circle of life. Maybe now we can stop worrying about letting out that goddam cat when we come to your house, and start worrying about leaving cigarette butts and heroin needles in the baby's room.

(We don't have any idea how Allison spells her name. We've tried it w/ a 'y', with 1 'l', and with a happy face instead of the 'o'... so, u know, sorry.)

Fall Ball Time -or- Let's Play Two!

You may have figured it out by the glaring absence of a follow-up post after the one below, but the Gorillas were unceremoniously bounced from the city tourney after shooting our collective wad in the three hour marathon game o' the century.

It was sad, but inevitable. We had to save our best for the thing we're known most for: winning league titles.

Speaking of, the Fall league begins tonight. Here's the schedule:

We have lots more to talk about, and we'll try to do that tomorrow along with a follow up to our first fall league double-header.

Mildly Surprising The World! -or- Power Ballad

The city tourney began last night, and by now you've already heard about the game between lovable underdogs, The Gashaus Gorillas, and the power haus Midwest/Adcraft Softball (playing under the pseudonym: Swat Pest).

We considered typing a complete game write-up - something we rarely do - because the game was so goddam exciting. Seriously, next to the Gorillas signature win over the Gawd Fearin' Bastards to win the league champeenship last summer, this was the most exciting win in the modern Gorilla Era. But today, as e-mails were flying and reporters were calling, we came across this nice write up about the epic win:

Ok, Jeremy Willis hit a screaming line drive off Nick's shin to lead off the game. That really pissed us off!
And then D went all Mark McGwire and put some balls in the stratosphere.
And then Nick went all Rick Ankiel on them and hit a bomb of his own to avenge that huge lump on his shin.
And then Adcraft hit like a gagillion hr's for outs.
And then Dant puked his guts...and more guts. Very Gorilla-esk.
And then Wolfey hit a ball that landed in B's glove.
And then Wolfey hit another ball that landed in D's glove as B just dove for it.
And then they walked Piglet to get to B....and B booped a screaming knuckler over Eagle's head to win the phukin game!
And then Todd Mazzier bad mouthed everyone on his team after the game.
And Elkie peeled out in the parking lot.
The end.

He may have missed a couple things in there somewhere, and we're not totally pleased with the Satanic Fowl references, but it keeps us from typing more and pretty much sums it up.

One thing we would like to point out, just in case someone with a position in the local Parks N Rec office stumbles across this here bloggy-thingy, in the 11 games of the summer league this year, the Gorillas hit exactly five home runs. Last night, using balls left over from last year, we hit eight, plus one for an out. (Oh, and we're not saying this, but we heard some other people saying that the home-plate umpire is an idiot of Paris Hilton proportions.)

So hey, the Gorillas go out again tonight to shock the world yet again, and hell, if we were gonna go thru all the trouble to play three fuckin' hours last night, we might as well win another game tonight and make it worth while.

Gorilla Stats -or- Your Grandma Thinks We're Hot

It's probably obvious to everyone by now... but we thought we'd remind you one more time: The Gashaus Gorillas are the shit.

You can tell because your Granny is holding the two trophies (in two tries) that we've already won this year. More proof is the video here, showing the crowd going nuts as JT hit a bomb in the championship game. (Turn your sound down - the screeching goes straight thru your soul.)

So two down, and two to go. First, the Evansville Parks and Crap Men's Softball tournament. It's a wonderful event in which we'll play games using unbelievably shitty balls on even shittier fields officiated by shittier-still umpires. It'll be awesome.

After that, we'll start dominating some poor fall league under similar conditions.

And all this as we're way past our prime. You can tell that by the stats below. Ugh.

Business As Usual -or- One For The Other Pinky Finger

"Winning Takes Talent, To Repeat Takes Character" - John Wooden

It's been often noted that your Gashaus Gorillas have precious little talent, and hardly any character. What, then, would the Wizard of Westwood make of a 6th straight champeenship?

Our answer: who gives a fuck. Little Jonny may be in the basketball hall of fame as both a player and a coach, be widely regarded as the best coach of all time, save small children from burning buildings, adopt sick puppies from the animal shelter, and be a body-double in the making of the movie about our grandfather's life... but, can he kick our ass?

Okay, he probably can. But what we're trying to get at here, is that the Gashaus Gorillas overcame great obstacles - including a 1-4 start, and notable lack of the aforementioned supposedly important qualities - to win yet another champeenship on Tuesday night.

And we did it while wearing ties.

Believe me, it's harder than it looks. Taking Care Of Business Nite might look like all fun and games but when you don't play till 9 p.m. and you have to win the damn game to win the trophy, it's serious shit.

So we came out in our Sunday best, and gave it our Tuesday average. By the 3rd inning, we were indeed taking care of business. Not like these guys, but close.

And by the time the dust settled, the smoke cleared, and
the game-bier emptied, it was time to crown our asses.

So we find ourselves at the end of yet another summer softball league. We know many of you are worried that you won't be able to fill your time reading our pointless ramblings now, but fier not. For the first time ever the Gorillas will be playing in the city tournament. (While we didn't play together as a team last year, our individual members did pretty well.) And after that, of course, we'll be going for plastic plated piece of crap number seven in the fall league. We may even have a few things to say over the winter this year.

In the meanwhile, here are the highly anticipated pics of TCBNite 2k7. We think there's a link somewhere or another to the photo album thingy on the interwebs... we'll see what we can do to get it up here. If not, screw you. We think we've done pretty well doing this much, considering our vcr is still blinking 12:00.