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.

The Camera Adds Ten Pounds -or- Cheezborger! Cheezborger! Cheezborger!

As we sit around and wait for John Smoltz to throw lots of crappy pitches in Barry Bonds' general direction, we can't help but contemplate the changes that occur naturally in one's body.

Some of these here Gorillas are in our mid-to-upper 30's - about the age Bonds was when he started growing like a 16 year old penis at a school dance - and I think it's safe to assume, as the photo to the right surely tells you, that many of us may not be as, um, small as we once were.

And yet, oddly, we are rarely accused of using performance enhancing drugs.

Sure, we're not exactly what you would call "cut." Perhaps we're not "in shape." Maybe we're not even what those quack doctors would call "healthy." But hey, we're still pretty money. Yes, it's true that an unnamed Gorilla recently got a little winded playing MLB '07 - "The Show", but that could happen to anyone, with those new fangled joysticks.

So what are the differences between your typical Gorilla (pictured above) and the Sultan of Sulk? Surly-ness? C'mon, even on nights that Big Al isn't on the mound, we still lead the league in yelling at 20-something blond kids that should be playing indoor soccer. Hat size? Ahem. World - Derek. Derek - world. Hitting skills? Perhaps you've seen our professional hitter roaming right-center field. Skin tone? Why do u think Ronnie is on the squad? Okay, your right, it's because he always has a bottle of crown. But hey, he's black, so we're calling this one a tie too.

So that leaves home runs. We suppose we'll have to concede that one. Even though we play in considerably smaller ball parks where people throw the ball underhand to us, we aren't quite on the pace of the man Berman calls "U.S." I think we all know why that is. Between shitty bats, even shittier balls, and our beloved Parks N Rec moving the goddam fences back at Iglerock - we've not exactly had a great power year, and it is costing us offensively.

And yet, as we noted last week, we're in a prime position to win our sixth straight league title. So we really should, u know, take this next game seriously. Right?

Ah, fuck that. Instead, lets wear shirts that are way to fucking tight, and try to drink 10 biers each before the 6 p.m. start.

Then after the game we'll throw some burgers on a grill - just to prove that we're not juicing, and to avoid any rumors about the early stages of the mental illness that is anorexia. (And no, that's not a disease. We're not gonna call something a disease when the cure costs less than $6 at Burger King.)

Let the chips (and dip) fall where they may. But at the end of tomorrow night, we will have had a helluva time, took some funny pictures, and, hopefully, won a big ball game.

Then on Wednesday, we're totally starting our diet.

July 17th Boxscore -or- Craptastic!

Being craptacular is not something to be all that proud of. But sometimes you can be crapilific, and still be just good enough to keep hopes up. The Chicago Cubs have proven that many times over the course of our lifetime.

The Gashaus Gorillas are on a quest to prove it as well, only on a more local, bullshit softball league kinda way. Actually, the many tiers of crapstandingness the Gorillas have touched this year - while somehow still staying quasi-relative - is somewhat impressive.

The game this Tuesday past was no exception. Three Gorillas didn't even bother showing up. BK claimed he was "working," which we took to mean he was looking up cartoon porn on a library computer in Boonville. McGru didn't call, but we can only assume he was drying his "Vegas Is For Lovas" shirt over and over. We don't know where the hell D was, but we're pretty sure he wasn't exercising there.

Knowing this, we postponed Tight Shirt Nite 'till next week so we could enjoy their meaty-midsection wonderfulness again this year. So one would think, without distractions or restrictive clothing, the Gorillas would've been ready to bust loose and put up a 20 spot on some unsuspecting punks with so little imagination they took their name from a crappy movie about dodge ball. One would be wrong.

Instead we were craptastic (some more than others) - yet good enough to win. Didn't see that coming, did ya?

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We continued to roll in crapola after the game as we, for some reason, listened to a poker game on the radio. (Next week we're bringing in a taped recording of the British Open.) Then we ran out of bier and went home not drunk enough to be funny or get laid by our chics, but plenty buzzed to draw attention from Jonny Law. The theme continues.

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It has truly been a mediocre year. So imagine our surprise when we looked up the standings for our league... and found that we have still been good enough to have a chance to win the fucker.

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The Gorillas currently stand at 5-4, and it took a goddam miracle four-game winning streak to get there. Yet we are a scant 1/2 a game behind Dynakleen (who, at 5-3, has a rain-out to make up), and tied with a team we don't particularily like, El Diablo.

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We have two games left. We play Dynakleen this Tuesday. It's Tight Shirt Night. It would seem to us that the only thing left to do, as Jake said in Major League, is "win the whole fucking thing."

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That wouldn't be so craptastic, would it?

July 10th Boxscore - or - Hat Trick

There are few things that please a crowd like a Gashaus Gorilla Theme Night. Sure, some consider it old hat*. Some might think the attention is getting to our heads*. Some claim that we've officialy flipped our lids*. But at the end of the day, they just have to tip their caps* and admit we are the coolest goddam thing since Dr. Seuss.
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This week we played a game against a team called El Diablo or some gay shit. They annoyed us greatly. They still annoy us. They are the reason we have five goddam 6 p.m. games this summer. For some reason they just had to play all their games @ 8. Fuck them.
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They had beaten us by a score of 15-12 earlier in the year. Fuck them.

They are a bunch of kids who round bases too far, throw behind runners, and slide into defensless cowboys on the basepaths. Fuck them.
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Little did they know that we never lose on theme nights**. Still, we needed all the Gorilla Theme Night Magic we could muster. The game went extra innings after a bottom of the 7th that was like a train wreck, only in the middle a woman gets raped and has a forced abortion. That is to say, it was pretty shitty to watch. But the Gorillas are nothing if not clutch (fat, slow, alcoholic and funny-looking), and on this night we were just clutch enough and gritted out a win.

Fuck them.
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The win gets us back to the .500 mark, after a decidedly shitty start, and gives us some hope of at least making things moderately interesting in the league.
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The next order of bidness is deciding what our theme night will be next week. The obvious choices are available, and new ideas are welcome. Throw your suggestion in the comments, or send an e-mail, and we'll put up a poll this weekend to decide.
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Our next game is @ 7 p.m. against "The Snakes" - an equally gay team name, and a team that I think beat us last time. I suspect we don't like them either.
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Fuck them.
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* - Not true
** - Not true

NOW we go! -or- "Hello $6.50 bier. I've missed you."

So, you may have noticed that updates, game recaps, and hilarity have been a little, um, lacking 'round these parts lately.

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Well, The Gorillas have been blowing the proverbial dog thus far this Summer... and we just haven't had much to say. Then Rod Beck goes and dies, and on Rod Beck Tribute Night we get rained out. (And how ironic that Shooter would die so close to Rod Beck Tribute Night! What? Oh.) So things may seem a little... depressing.

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But perk up, kiddies! There's good news!

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As we type this, the New(!) and Improved(!) Team Bat is on a FedEx truck - bound for delivery to our palatial estate on Evansville's Beautiful West Side.

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We are sooo gonna hit some bombs come next Tuesday. And this time by "bombs" we don't mean "sac flies 10 feet short of the fence."

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Also: some of us are going to be heading out of town shortly, en route to the greatest place on earth. Of course, I'm speaking of the Bud Light Bleachers in the friendly confines of Wrigley Field. Big series with the Brew Crew this weekend and we're gonna enjoy the hell out of it.

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Somebody should dvr the games, because we totally plan on getting wasted and running out to the pitchers mound to ask a crappy Cubs reliever, "What the fuck are you doing?"

The God-Fearing-Bastards Would Like For You To Appologize Now. -or- Yay, Us.

Okay, okay. We admit it. Perhaps we have been making just a few too many blasphemous & distastefull jokes over the last year or two. Hey God: we were only jokin'. Seriously.
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We weren't sure if God was upset about Jerry Falwell croaking, or if he'd just had enough, already with our bullshit... but it sure looked like he was pissed Tuesday night. It rained, thundered, and the wind blew in 40 mph gusts - in every direction. All the while, our little Gorillas were standing out in the field watching youngsters run around the bases.

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When Melon didn't show up till the 4th inning, we knew it was us that had the All-Mighty all in a tissy. And boy, did we regret this post from last year.

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But hey, it was just game one of an 11 game summer season. Yah, we got our asses handed to us this time. But we'll get another shot at those little fuckers, what with their boundless energy, hot girlfriends, and ability to catch fly balls. And when we get that next chance: we won't suck as much. Especially Gerthy.

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Having made His point Tuesday - and really, most of the spring league - the Big Guy gave us a lovely day on Wednesday. Which was good, since the Gorillas were vying for their fifth straight league championship. All we had to do was win two. A heady task, considering we were all bruised & battered from the night prior. Luckily, we had an hour off between games to drink replenishing fluids and strategersize. And so on.

We won, of course.

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Because that's what we do.

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That's all we do.

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We don't know if our Spring League Championship trophey will look much like the one pictured here...but we do plan on wearing a cheerios hat, golf spikes, and a man-ziere when we passionately make out with it.

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How you celebrate is up to you and your beliefs.

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God, bless these Gorillas. (And Cracker.)

Splitsville -or- "Atta BJ T"

There are lots of things that we like -- that everyone likes -- about the Gashaus Gorillas. For one, there is the bier. The Gorillas always have bier.
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There's also the witty banter, inspired play, on-field leadership, hustle, and skilled glove work.
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Thank Gezus there was bier Wednesday night.
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The Gorillas came out deader than Dillinger in game one. Fortunately PC Quest, the team with numbered sweatshirts, wasn't much better. A couple big innings from the good guys, and a win was salvaged.
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This is becoming a (disturbing) trend for the Gorillas this spring. Slow starts, and slower endings sprinkled with a couple big offensive outbursts that, more often than not, are good enough for a win.
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Unfortunately, that formula didn't work in game 2, and when all was said and done, we ended up where we started -- drinking bier in the parking lot, bad mouthing an absent Flemwad and a broke-dick Beans, and one full game behind PC Quest in the standings.
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But hey, they don't say "ya win some, ya lose some" for nothing. And we don't say it very often. So despite the less-than-stellar performance Wednesday night, there is still a damn good chance of extending the championship streak to 5 straight leagues. All we gotta do is win two games next week (7 p.m. and 9 p.m.) and, whamo!, we're doing the donkey dance and drinking blue yummies from a gold-plated plastic trophy.
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Then we'll take our rightful place in history, thank Gezus we don't keep the book in the spring, and bad-mouth Flemwad and broke-dick Beans.
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That's one of the things we like about the Gashaus Gorillas.

His Mudder Was A Mudder -or- Sometimes You Win, Sometimes You Lose, And Sometimes...It Rains.

As we sit around waiting to lose massive amounts of money betting on horseys to run real fast in circles (we like Dominican in the Derby), we thought we'd update a curious nation, clamoring for knowledge of the goings-ons and where-abouts of their heroes: The Gashaus Gorillas.

Thus far this spring, the Gorillas have battled an inconsistent Mother Nature (sub 40 degree weather, and two rain-outs) an inconsistent roster ("girlfriends" birthday's and "work" functions @ 7 o'clock at night), and inconsistent play.

The Gorillas, though, are undaunted, unaffected, and mostly un-sobered. An impressive 9 players showed up for an obviously rained-out game this Wednesday past. We were nearly moved to tears.

But having good chemistry and plenty of bier in the clubhaus is not enough. The Gorillas stand at 4-2 with four games left in spring play. The 2 games this coming Wednesday (oddly, @ 7&8 p.m.) are against the current league leaders, and are must wins.

So show up early. Bring your rain-gear. Sport your Gorilla colors. And be ready to kick some ass. This is the stuff from which past Gorilla Legends have been created, and the stuff that Gorillas of the future will talk about during rain delays on cold April nights.

And bring bier.

2007 Spring League Schedule/Record

So, yah, we kinda lost interest in this here bloggy thingy last fall. We are easily distracted by shiny objects. And porn.

But hey, looky there, it's spring already. And that means the ole Gorillas are back in action. We'll be vying for our, like, 5th straight league title this spring. There is a minor problem tho. Someone, (whom we shall not name, but whose initials are Tommy Wannemu...) slightly screwed up and we will be playing on WEDNESDAY'S instead of Tuesdays. Rest assured, fans, we'll be back on Tuesday nights come summer time.

All games are at Kleymeyer #3 on Wednesday nights:

• April 4th - 8 & 9 p.m. vs. The Snakes (2 wins. It was cold.)
• April 11th - 8 & 9 p.m. vs. PC Quest (RAIN OUT)
  
• April 18th - 6 & 7 p.m. vs. Purple Ducks (Loss/Win)
• April 25th - 6 p.m. vs. PC Quest & 8 p.m. vs. The Snakes (Loss/Win)
• May 2nd - Rain Date (from Apr 11: 8&9 vs PC Quest) (RAIN OUT - AGAIN)
• May 9th - 7 & 8 p.m. vs PC Quest (Win/Loss)
• May 16th - 7 p.m. vs. Purple Ducks & Championship Game vs. PC Quest @ 9 p.m.

See ya at the park, kiddies.

Hey, Didn't You Used To Be The Gorillas? -or- Yes, I Said Raise. Why Are You Giggling?

So, would you rather play cards, eat smoked butts (the good kind), or drink bier?

We know, that's a tough one. It's like picking your favorite crappy world-coming-to-an-end movie. Don't make us choose!

But luckily, you don't HAVE to choose. You can do all three Saturday, October 14th. Shit, you can do all three at the same time! And best yet, you can do them with the morons pictured here.

We're not gonna go into all the fabulous details of the Gashaus Gorillas Poker Butt Bonanza in this blog. If you haven't gotten a flyer from us and you want to know more, leave a note in the comments. And if you can, make it kinda funny. (Have your brother, you know, the funny one, help you.)

Oh, and by the way, do not send us a fucking e-mail telling us you're coming to the bonanza by using the phrase, "I'm all in." We've been listening to morons (ahem! Buddy! coughcough) using that goddam phrase for everything from going to a movie to rooting for a hockey team for 3 damn years now, and we think it's about enough already.

Yah, so... we, um... played a couple games this past Tuesday. Boy, howdy, was that fun. Sure, we might have lost one of those games. Sure, it was to a bunch of snot-nosed punks. And sure, we weren't even drunk enough to use that as an excuse. But lets not forget what's important here. What's important, is that the Gorillas play next Tuesday at 8 & 9 p.m. for the champeenship of the fall league. And yes, it would be the 4th straight league champeenship, and the 6th of the last 7 leagues we've entered.

So, you know, there should be some pride involved here. Right?

And if you need to use the fact that we lost a game to a bunch of shit talking momma's boys (including one cocky little shit that should cut his hair with a civil war era cannon) as motivation... well then, you just go ahead and do that.

Oh, and bring bier.

Sorry for not bringing the funny. We're out of bier, er, motivation.

Hit Better Drunk, Field Better Sober. -or- Poker, Because You Love Her.

In the world of sports, there have been some very bad teams. The '62 Mets, '72-'73 Sixers, '76 Buccaneers were all historically bad. There have been some very good teams. The '27 Yankees, '85 Bears, and '75-'76 Hoosiers come to mind.

But has there ever been a team that combined skill level and drinking ability quite like the 2006 Gashaus Gorillas? I think not.

Tuesday night was one of those evenings from which dreams are made. Beautiful weather, good softball games, and bier. Lots and lots of bier.

You could tell it would be a special night, when in pre-game nearly all the Gorillas brought a key element for the event. Some had bier and no cooler or ice. Some had bier and ice, but no cooler. Some had bier and an extra cooler. Some had bier and extra ice. One guy had a burrito, while another had some haut sauce. It was magical.

The magic carried over to the field. The first game ended in a run-rule as the Gorillas took advantage of an inexperienced north-paw on the hill, the continued hot hitting of JT (4 for 4, homer, 5 ribbies), and an umpire that was drunk enough to not notice how drunk we were.

An hour off to drink some more did nothing but help as BK joined JT in the hit parade in game two (both going 4 for 4) and we got some key clutch hitting in the last inning. Sure, we may have been a bit too tipsy to catch soft liners or thow guys out from 5 feet in front of the plate, but man were we funny. And we won. Which is nice.

So while our significant others, family doctors, and employers may think otherwise, we have once again proven that excessive drinking is a good thing. Maybe the best of things. Well, there is hope. I hear that's pretty good. And titties. Titties are awesome. Ever had a Wrigleyville Dog? Those things are fucking unreal.

But excessive drinking was the best of things this time. And it will probably be the best of things next Tuesday (8 & 9 for those of you too fucking lazy to scroll down to the scedule.) We'll see if we can get Tdub and Nick's punk asses out of their respective work boots and wheelchairs, get those boys drunk, and turn 'em loose! Wooooooo! Bronx Bombers here we come!!

Which brings me to the 2nd item of bidness. The Gorillas need money. Lots and lots o' money. Okay, not really. But we're gonna hold a fund-raiser anyway. It's not an ambitious affair, just a little poker game and butt smokin' to pass the time. But we'll raise a few bucks for the team and have a good excuse to spend the whole day drinking, eating, and playing cards with our homies. The debate is: when do we have it? We'll be placing a poll on the right side-bar shortly, and we would appreciate your honest(ish) opinion.

You do like bier, food, and cards right? Right? Cuz if you don't, well, that's how we would know you're gay. Don't be the guy wearing that faggy '76 Bucs jersey. Just... don't. K?

Orlando Just Got Fatter -or- Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen..

As we look back on the week that was, we are saddened and appalled by a sub-par, at best, performance this week from the Gorillas. Even as their founder and CEO sat idly by drinking their beers; they tried their best. Well, I guess their best wasn't good enough because they lost. After a day of emails and scurrying to round up a roster of players that didn't suck, a tall task; the Gorillas showed up 11 strong w/ two gimps and a pimp in tow. Gerthy made a much anticipated fall appearance after lengthy contract negotiations and a formal invite.

They say speed kills, but I tell you ladies and gents that's a lie. To use the band that everyone knows but can't name one song, "Gravity Kills". And fellas, we have a LOT of gravity on this team. Although the new found speed on the team was inspiring by the young Swain (no relation), once again the lack of a quality closer in the late innings did us in. I hear Hoffman's available.

In unrelated news, TDub has informed us his "team" has won their first game in Orlando at U-Trip worlds. We attempted to get a quote from the "big guy" but much like Mantle's, we are unable to print it due to FCC regulations. A reliable source, who wished to remane nameless, said he asked directions to the nearest strip club with a pizza buffett upon landing. Again, unconfirmed.

As Hemmingway once passed off as his own (probably stole it from Steve Allen): "Although the sun may set, fear not because tomorrow the sun also rises." Truly inspiring.

G'day, Croc Hunter. We Hardly Knew Ye. -or- Hooray Gorillas!

Let's catch up: Last you heard, the Gashaus Gorillas were making miraculous comebacks and winning league championships. Last you heard, the Gorillas had defied the odds. They'd spit in the face of adversity. They'd laughed in the face of death. They'd cum in the face of some crack-whore for 8 dollars.

Well, times have changed. All that you knew before is wrong. All that you believed has changed. Back then the phrase, "I'm gonna go all stingray on your ass" meant nothing. Hell, most people still thought Pluto was a planet. We personally had no idea that Joey Porter had gone to Colorado State University!

I know. Hard to believe. But those were different times.

Since then, like an aging rock band, some Gorillas have persued individual goals. No less than 10 past or current Gorillas made the final four in the city tournament. No less than 6 of them reached the final four in the USSSA E Mens Nationals finals. No less than 3 of them have spent time in jail - fewer than the Bengals or UK basketball team, but impressive none-the-less.

Okay, maybe times haven't changed that much. The Gorillas are (more or less) back. The fall league has begun. And the chances of the Gorillas not winning that mother fucker are lower than Vince Young's wonderlick score and/or Baumgart's sales-call tally. Sometimes a crafty veteran, such as D-Snydes (6 for 7, hitting for the cycle over 2 games including 2 triples, 6 RBI and a monster bomb.) will carry us. Sometimes a relative newcomer expected to give quality innings and be serviceable at the plate, such as Nick (5 for 7, including 2 triples 6 RBI and a nice play or two off the hill) will do it. It doesn't really matter. At this point, even people whose mothers were kicked in the belly by Rafael Septian during their 3rd tri-mester (Dallas-Ft. Worth... Hello!), monkeys, and very smart dogs understand that it is destiny for your heroes to win another title.

Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor said it all when they said, "That's right. We bad." Or perhaps Steve Irwin did when he said, "Crikey."

Crikey indeed, sir.

Crikey indeed.

We Must Protect This Haus! -or- God Doesn't Care About Softball

"The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day, The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play. "

It wasn't quite the Ernest L. Thayer poem, but the outlook was most certainly not brilliant for your heroes four innings deep with the champeenship of the league at stake. The Gorilla's arch-enemies, who had handed us our lunches on a couple of occasions already this year, were leading 9-0. The best damn softball team this side of Seinfeld's Improv team had a grand total of four (4) hits by two (2) guys. The bad guys were hitting the shit out of the ball, and the only thing keeping us from run-rule territory was a few great catches by the cheapest Ice Mogul (Flemwad) known to man. We were in grave danger of getting in a massive brawl in front of our mother if that fucking guy quick-pitched us one more time. Rice (aka Tin Donkey, Hammy, NickName, Meat) pulled a thumb muscle keeping score. Doom and Gloom were our biggest fans, and they were drinking our bier.

Then something funny happened. A fat kid fell down in the parking lot. But then something else funny happened. We started to hit. Most of us knew, just knew, that we were gonna hit. But yet, with despair setting in and heads a-hangin', there was some question in the minds of even the most faithful of Gorillas. Seven (7) runs in the bottom of the 5th and eight (8) in the 6th, and when the dust settled the Gorillas were champs. The sun shone. A band played. Hearts were light. Men laughed. Children shouted.

It was pretty money.

And as we're shaking hands, these bastards did something that really pissed us off. They were nice. We hate that shit. We had just come from behind in extremely dramatic fashion, and beat their asses. And we were anything but nice whilst doing it. That's how we roll. So the last damn thing we wanted to hear from these guys is a sincere "good game." We like our enemies to be assholes. It makes us hate them, and gives us the fire we need to compete. But u know what? That nice bullshit - "way to hit the ball... great comeback...Etc." - just made us hate them even more. And the blue yummies were that much sweeter.

You probably wonder why it is we despise this "church team" so, and possibly you fear for our eternal souls. Well, we'll tell ya.

• They don't drink at softball games. We can't trust people that don't drink. Hitler didn't drink. Know why? It made him mean.
• Jesus is a shitty co-pilot. Apparently he sucks at giving directions and encourages one to stay in the fast lane driving 10 m.p.h. under the limit and repeatedly checking one's hair in the rear-view. Every time we get behind a mini-van w/ a fish on the bumper we start looking for an embankment to drive into and end the pain.
• The Bible makes no mention of softball, IU basketball, or Pardon The interruption, and makes more false promises than BK in an internet chat room. Where's Harry by Steve Stone is, for our money, a better read.
• Anyone who likes to quick pitch us when they're up 15, throw behind the slowest guy on the team when he's two (2) feet off the bag, bitch and moan about every damn ball/strike call, and then pray on the damn mound after the game is more hypocritical than a pregnant nun. God does not want you to play softball that way, pal.
• We hear they hate puppies and are happy when they die.

All that being said, we think God is kinda money. We're down with His cause. We have an understanding with Him, and He allows us to make blasphemous jokes without being stricken w/ horrible diseases (so far.) We just don't enjoy folks playing softball in His name in a manner we find less-than honorable.

But enough about that. More about us. We're champs. We showed heart. We got home in time to watch the Cubbies earn one of their 12 wins this year in the 18th inning. We're gonna be vying for our 4th straight league victory come Fall League play. Life, for a brief time, is less sucky.

In the Mudville we call home, there is joy.

We're Already Going to Hell...

Here's how it's gonna go down. We're gonna just go ahead and act like we've been doing this blog bullshit for years. We're gonna go ahead and act like you people have been reading this here blog since it's birth, those many years ago. We're gonna dive right in and "blog" about a big game coming up in which we will curse at chruch-goers whilest their children look on in horror. And you, you're gonna sit there, real calm-like, at your desk and act like you are enjoying the whole goddam thing. Got it?

So. It all comes down to this. As you know, the Gorillas have had an up and down year. We're good. I mean real fucking good. But, as many teams are, we've been somewhat, um, sidetracked at times by various difficulties.

• 6pm games which leave little time to drink warm-up beers before hand.
• Teams playing under the guise of God Fearin' Christians whom we happen to know are a collection of ass-bags that would fit right in at a Bengals training camp.
• Fun-hating umpires getting all up-tight on us and ruining our vibe just because we were dressed more like an umpire than them.
• Extremely restricting wardrobes.
• Our left fielder running away to milk the bulls at some rodeo in rural Illinois.
• Global Warming.

Yah, it's been trying, to say the least.

But after all that, The Gorillas will be playing for the Champeenship this coming Tuesday, August 15th @ 8pm. And guess what. We'll be playing the God Squad that has mysteriously had our number this year. (My theory? We've played them @ 6 both games and it hurts the Gorillas much more not being able to drink beer b4 the game than it does that psuedo prayer group. That, and pansy-ass Melon's always late to 6 o'clock games.)

So what's it gonna be, Gorillas? Are we gonna man-up and win this motherchucker, or, um, you know... not? If you can't get fired up for this game, well, I just don't know who you are anymore.

By the way, please feel free to use the Comments option. It is, afterall, kinda the reason we're doing this whole "blog" thing. Up till now, we thought "blogging" was something Flemwad's family did to livestock in the hills of Tennessee.