An “investigative report” has revealed what our eyes have been revealing to our brain synapses for years…the Chief Executive is a big fat piece of shit, although the doctors used different medical terminology I’m sure.
A diet of Big Macs and chicken nuggets can’t be helping…
On Face the Nation that douchebag lackey Dr. Oz didn’t get the memo that he was supposed to back up the president no matter what he says. He basically called DJT a liar for describing a virus as lethal when it was not.
What?
Our president was dishonest?
Not shocked.
Honest Abe he ain’t.
But you can bet your last dollar that if there is a buck to be made off of it, he’ll be first in line with his bloated, discolored hands open to take it.
Parents at the Little League World Series being played in Williamsport, Virginia are all up in arms about 12-year old Cooper Thissen who plays for Iowa.
STFU.
The kid, who is legal within the Little League age rules, completely shut down the team from California after swatting a leadoff home run to go along with fifteen strikeouts to win 1-0. His 75mph fastball is a major league equivalent of about 93mph.
I’ve seen better.
As a matter of fact, it seems like every year in every league on the planet, there is a player or players, that are bigger, stronger, and more mature for their age than the rest of the league.
The year was 1966 and I had made the regional all-star baseball team as a third baseman and pitcher. We headed down to Alexandria, Louisiana to play in a three-team playoff with the winner getting a chance to go and play for the chance to go to the Big Show—Williamsport.
I don’t recall his name after all these sixty years, I think it was Rhett or Brett or something like that.
And he sure didn’t look twelve to us; he had a beard for Christ sakes!
We had heard of this player’s reputation before we ventured south with a chance to play against him to pursue every kid’s dream of getting to the LLWS.
The playoff would be determined by a draw.
We drew a bye for the first round and watched Ville Platte play Alexandria for the right to play us for all the marbles the following day.
They didn’t look like all that to us, winning 5-4, except they were saving their ace, this man-child who looked to tower over every other twelve-year-old by a foot by playing him in centerfield.
We went back to our hotel rooms thinking we actually have a chance. We could win this thing…
A large crowd was on hand for the championship and we hit the field with all the hope and enthusiasm in the world.
Our hope and enthusiasm left in a hurry.
Listen to Rhett’s (or Brett’s) stat line: he pitched six scoreless no-hit innings against us, striking out every single batter we threw up there to face him.
We never got a baserunner in the game. At the plate, he went 4-4 with four home runs, knocking in 12 RBI’s as we lost 12-0.
Already down 8-0 when Rhett (or Brett) came up to the plate for his final at-bat, my best friend Jimmy Kitchens was pitching to the beast.
Our coach was in the coach’s box shouting to Jimmy and waving his hands wildly.
“Pitchout! Do NOT throw the ball anywhere near the plate!”
He was screaming.
Jimmy looked over, nodded and threw the ball way outside the batter’s box.
Rhett (or Brett) merely stretched his big frame and swatted the ball over the left-field fence for a Grand Slam to complete the rout.
Normally, after a team loss, there is a mixture of emotions dominated by anger at getting beat.
But our demise was so complete that we didn’t know HOW to feel after this loss. None of us had ever suffered so complete an ass-whipping that wasn’t administered by our parents.
We were in shock.
As good and dominant a player that he was, Ville Platte would NOT qualify for the LLWS.
Stay well.
