RRRR: A Series of Vignettes: TL;DR


If you take a shower before you go to sleep, do you take a shower when you wake up in the morning too? For me, It’s not even a conscious decision. I get up and trudge through my morning routine at the same time every day. I'd forget I showered the night before until I was in it, in the morning. Not showering in the morning, after showering at night, is like making excuses to yourself to not do the right when you drive by the old person, broken down on the side of the road, without stopping to help. The rest of the day you have you keep telling yourself you did the right thing because you didn't have "the time". Also, if you don't shower in the morning you're pretty much committed to showering at night again; beginning a disgusting, vicious cycle that could end up lasting a lifetime if not broken by sheer commonsense. Yes. Is ten minutes of sleep worth being ashamed of yourself? I realize showering everyday is ridiculous to eurocentric sensibilities but thats why I am glad I live in America, I don't have to care what Europe thinks. Wash your dick and balls, wash our ass, don't have offensive smells upon your bodice unless it is after 5pm. I am not saying to perfume yourself like a sally fop. Work hard and don't take the month of August off to mentally masturbate how great your country is while sipping the "finest spirits on the Earth". Life wasn't meant to be fun and growing old ain't for pussies. Do me a favor, if you have a problem with something (i.e. GmOs, Wall Street, Newt Gingrich, trees being felled in the amazon), go do something about it and if you don’t, I don’t want to hear about it. I don't care about your marginal and abstract outrage. If you don't think you have the chops to change something you don't like about the world, do yourself and everyone else a favor and find a distraction to wile the time away until your initial outrage has passed and you finally realize you really don't give a fuck and that maybe you are trying to typecast yourself into a role. Wow, great job, you typecasted yourself and now that is the personality your friends will expect for the rest of your life, so keep going and the snowball will get bigger...keep quoting the movies though because that is what people do when they feel uncomfortable in social situations yet still desire attention. They quote movies or POEMS or BOOKS because they have nothing else to say because they don't know what to say except to regurgitate some homogenized world view from some dickhead struggling writer in L fucking A, that the guy who got an A in drama class repeated on the silver screen while pretending to be a tough guy and getting paid millions to pretend he is someone else that people will quote for decades because the character somehow meets their opinion of someone who they wish they could be if they weren't themselves.



A Venezuelan manager, a castrated yellow journalist and a Cub blogger walk into the bar, the Cub fan says

"That Moose Skowron fucker sure is a lying son of a bitch. I keep peeling back layers of his life and I’ve found circumstantial evidence that I’m pretty sure he might have been the guy that actually could’ve kidnapped John Walsh’s son. Word on the street says there are rumors circulating through groups of people in the know that he barbequed Ron Santo’s legs, fed them to Ronnie Woo-Woo and forced poor ole’ Ronnie to defecate the diabetes leg into the Ivy on the 20th anniversary of Tuffy Rhodes best opening day ever that Gary Scott played third in. I always knew he hated me and every other Cub fan but I wasn’t quite sure until I consulted with the elders of the Maple Street Press, also known as the Nonexistent Few. Those fuckers keep statistics on EVERYTHING! They’re like sports Mormons. Just look at his face." as the Cub fan flashed but quickly pocketed away a jizz encrusted 1964 Moose Skowron Topps card.

"When I was a young twink on the Northside hanging out with Mike Murphy and his bugle, I saw Moose at a baseball card show and propped him to suck his dick but he knuckle-sandwiched my kisser and Pappas had always told me that I had the best lips in town…but that piece of shit denied my overtures again and again. Its amazing the facts you can conjure up about people on the Internet. I always thought the internet was censorable hearsay and slander. In the end I’ve found that only some of it is. My research has navigated me deep into his seedy past and I’ll tell ya, its not pretty…no sirreee!"

"Kind of like how I’m going to be so deep in this latino ass after a few more test tube shooters, if he’ll allow it just one more time?" asked theunemployed yellow journalist, licking the Venezuelan’s right cheek like a hungry and homeless person greedily licking someone’s plate after they had just eaten some waffles slathered in Aunt Jemima syrup.

"Giddafuhk outta heyure yoo wahsshed uhp sac of conchuelatista. Yoo woffless to meanaw, naw maw pootah fo yoo. "



"Dewey Defeats Truman! Atop an aircraft carrier, George W. Bush declares victory. English Royalty can go out in public without being assassinated. They didn’t accept a bonus. Creationism. Beat reporters are always right because they are experts. Jesus never raped his apostles. Denard Span never raped his teammates. Read my lips, I did not lie. We are creating jobs by the millions. I didn’t see the financial collapse coming. Lutheranism. The Pope. Hitler not living in Argentina in 1994. William Cooper being killed by the CIA. God existing. Jamey Carroll celebrating his teams 44th walk-off hit.. My fuckin’ ass."

Rhubarb, August 25st, 2013

"My son, my only adopted son…come closer for I must tell you of my most triumphant of days upon this cruel planet. You must understand before I go into specifics, cough, cough, I was but an insignificant speck in an ever twirling ether of American baseball history until I arrived upon pitch of the Twain, cough, and there I met your father…oh your father the most dashing and honorable of men….We ALL called him the Bull Dozier for he had the most magnificent of thrusts…cough, cough…oh how your father bunted…oh how he hit and ran…always leaving me asking for more"

"It came to pass, my son, that my career touched the lives of hundreds when it became scouted that I, cough, blergh, phlegm, hack…..cou…could single handedly vanquish a certain opponent with sheer guile! There was one team that was the anti-thesis of what I was upon the field. Not in many decades had this team had a player such as I, at least within the starting of lineups…cough…perhaps on the bench but never in the starting of…cough…lineups…arggggggh…"

"Before I pass on to the effervescent glow of the after-life I must relate my secret to youuuuu, arghhhh….ugh…that I gargled the semen of Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire for many a fortnight and upon doing so I was unknowingly and magically bestowed with the ability to hit five feet further than I might have had I not gargled the…gargle…cough…blurg…semen of those that Bud Selig insisted that I do upon the concrete table of Lou Gehrig’s tomb with the skull of Geronimo and the withered and leatherish penis of Napoleon clutched within my trembling and transvestitish paws."

"Cough, blooood, urghgle, spat…if I had not drank the gallons upon gallons of steroid laden semen I would not have clenched upon the strength need to hit it too far for the secondbaseman to catch my balls yet too few o feet for the outfielder to make a valiant effort at snagging upon my balls in the fashion of my dearest of mistresses the most denarded of spans."

"Imagine my utmost surprise when my most limpwristed of swings would result in feats unbeknownst to those of my pedigree. The BA of my BIP would bestow upon me the most wondrous of results and thyme and thyme my wood would be reveled by many a Mennonite and largely a Lutheran. Those were the…glarkomos,…blerg.ack…days…If I only I could revisit the sad tragedies of the Chicago White Sox….if only I could relive my freckle-filled youth in its perpetual glory…..herglaorganandk."

"We celebratedith the 44th of wins as if it was the 100th win and pranced upon the Earth in all our glory, vehemently lickingeth each others sweaty and glorious of testicles. For what would we wish for other than the glory of vanquishing the most heinous yet deserving of opponents…the 2013 White Sox who went on to win the World Series against, Bryceth of Harper, man I always wanted to fuck him in the…..cough…cough…Dude, really? You’re making me do this? I can’t read this anymore. Please, I beg of you to release me from this pit. Why does this rotting corpse have a name tag on it? Who is bobpuller? I didn’t know that hair kept growing after death. I’ve never seen such ginger locks. "

"If you don’t fucking read the script like Marlon Brando I’m going to cut off another finger. Read the fucking script. I’ll make you a star yet," thus spake Rhubarb.

"You are sick, you crazy fuck."

"At least my name isn’t Jamey Carroll. If you want to get out of my basement alive read the goddamn script like the method actor that you apparently are."

"In the…cough…ear…because that was the tightest place that my little cock could feel anything in…my son, my son…The celebration upon that 44th day of win was ill-conceived and a tad presumptuous but my undying lust for hotdish jammedeth in my butthole could never be…cough, blergh…10,000 lakes and 10,000 regrets as a twain for a twain, a douche for a douche…….I relent that the populous of Minnesota continue to exploit dead Indian tribes by stealing and negating their name’s meanings in the exact opposite fashion the city of Chcago honors theirs. I also relent that Justin Morneau never received a concussion but had been feigning injury because he was too big of a pussy to be on the worst team in the major leagues, I admit that Joe Mauer still has fucking dandruff and that head and shoulders is owned by 3M and Medtornic…I concede that the Mall of America is a poor man’s Woodfield Mall and its last yeat of glory was in 1993…I concede that the Mayo Clinic cures no one and instead we use patients deceased remains in the most unseemingly of ways…….cough, blergh…ahaksksfhoiahfgoiebgobewogbwebwobvwvbo, my fucking finger! "



Two men happened upon a dying woman next to a great putrid river with an infant swaddled in a grass woven blanket. Baby and mother were both badly sunburnt. The woman had all the hope in the world within her heart and mind. She didn’t believe she was dying but the two of them had no doubt in their minds that she likely was in the process of expiring and they communicated it to each other through a sad sideways glance. She was sitting Indian style breastfeeding her child diseased humor. The child was not unhappy but it hadn’t experienced the loss of its mother yet. Both mother and child were like any other, except the mother coughed blood.

The mother had grown up in an affluent suburb of a nearby formerly great city. Her parents had raised her sheltered from the brutal truths of life. She was too young to believe in her death, she thought she would live forever. She thought that she and her child did not apply to a bleak oblivion. They were wrong.

They approached her and she twitched with a start and instinctively drew her child closer to her as if the act itself would protect it from the two men who may or may not be a danger.

"There is no need to be afraid of us. We are lost and need water."

"Please go away! God is protecting us!"

"You don’t have a choice."

"Well get your water and leave, this is our place!"

"Where is the baby’s father?"

"He said he would be back for us, he is lost."

The larger man took a drink from the river and spat it out as it tasted quite foul and he said so.

"Have you been drinking this?"

"There is nothing wrong with the water."

"This isn’t even water anymore. Is this coming from St. Louis?"

"I saw a beam of light last night. It came from the sky. The water was fine then, maybe the beam did something to the water."

"A beam of light?"

"There was a high pitched noise that made Satchel scream for two hours. He is such a good boy he’s never acted like that before, I didn’t know what was wrong with him but he seems okay now. Maybe he is teething."

She starting coughing again, more and more blood coming out. The baby laughed and giggled as if his mother would be with him forever. She half collapsed onto the ashy river bank.

"How long have you been coughing like this?"

"I’m fine, I believe in mind over cancer. It is bound to go away soon."

"I’m no doctor but I think we need to get you to a doctor."

"Doctors prolong the inevitable."

The weight of the situation hit them hard and heavy. The sadness that hung over the picturesque river bank was as thick as the water. Momentarily, both men began to think about their inevitable deaths.

They walked down the bank a ways to a small peninsula jutting out into the river so they could discuss out of earshot, what they should do.

"We should just leave her here to die. It seems to be her fate.", whispered the smaller man, looking furtively over his shoulder as if God himself were possibly eavesdropping.

"Maybe it is our fate to save her and her child."

"I don’t know…"

"We are here for a reason."

"I don’t believe in fate. I believe in coincidence. This is a random encounter. During my life I have metaphorically not ran across damsels in distress a million times over. Now I finally have and I choose to walk away and forget about her."

From down the bank they could hear the mother retching more blood into the river adding to the human stain on the natural. A loud moan followed and a shriek from the baby. The mother had collapsed, her baby laid facedown in the grass.

The woman was gasping her last breaths. She asked what was happening and mentioned the beam of light had once again appeared over the water but when they looked nothing was there. Her last words were, "I can’t sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, Satchel." Then her soul, if that is what it was, left her body and shot towards the sky and into outer-space toward a distant string.

They both cried and the larger man picked up the baby.

"This is no world for this child."

"Unfortunately, I agree."

They nuzzled the baby into the mother’s dead arms and walked away and did not look back. The crying stopped after a minute. Just then they heard a laugh that would haunt them for the rest of their days. Then nothing more as they trudged on through the thick soil of the rivers bank.

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