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Wednesday, October 24, 2007

The Book of Joe: David XXXIII

Rejoice now in the story of the burly warrior, David Wells, who in the annum 2003 inked into print his long-awaited memoirs. But the quirky giant’s quill etched dark and unholy secrets from the House of George.

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According to the Book of Boomer, his famous Game of Perfection, five summers earlier, had been rendered while David was recovering from an ill-swollen night of grape gleanings and rank tomfoolery.
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According to the Book of Boomer, some competitors were swallowing unlawful elixirs to thicken themselves with devil-forged muscle.
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Stunned and violated by David’s false testimony, the Yankees fell into fume and distemper.
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After seven days and nights, Joe appeareth unto the false scribe and spake:
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“Hear me, o, Boomer!
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“Ye hath broken the Golden Code of Silence that Yanks have loved since the time of Sparky Lyle. For mere pieces of silver, ye have betrayed the House of George!
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“I condemn thee! I denounce thee! I rebuke thee!
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“Ye shall be fined a hundred thousand goats. And ye shall smell the stench that ye hath farted upon all who cherish the spoils of Yank silence.
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“This I do decree!”
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And so it did transpire.
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David, stoned and buttery beneath his pinstriped sackcloth, called a conference of news and spake:
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“Hear me, o world!
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“I renounce the claim that I birthed my Game of Perfection following an eve of refrocked virgins and shots of meadfire.
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“I renounce the claim that some contestants of game have chewed vitamins of deceit to fortify themselves with counterfeit spine.
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“I renounce myself for being a bald and larded lout, who hath penned bile in the hope of bedding the runway vixens who shalt rouse a fiery tower from my unremarkable shaft.
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“O, I damn myself. I rebuke myself. All in range of my voice, know ye that I am of puke and gulp. I am not just spaking this. I shalt mean each word. Really. Truly. I doth. Verily. OK. Turn off thy phones of mike. Unspool thy cameras. Doth thou hear? We are endeth. Hey, you holes of ass, turn off thy fuckin-”
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And among doubters, winds whispered that David’s testimony was born not from righteous self-loath, but deceit.
And writers called for Joe to replace David with the rising God of Potential, Jeff Weaver, son of Kaminecki.
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And for a fortnight, the bejeweled Weaver did assume David’s throne within the House of George.
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Then, one day, Joe appeareth unto David and spake:
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"OK, o, Boomer, listenup!
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“Upon reflection, I hath come to see that ye are not a cancer upon the Yanks, but a delightful maker of mirth.
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“And I hath come to see that Jeff Weaver is getting absolutely hammered each time his surfer frame ascends the mound of pitch.
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“Verily! Ye shall reassume thy place in the rotation. This I do decree!”
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And so did it transpire.
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And David did lead the Yankees to the Flag of the League.
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And David helped vanquish the Bostonites in a great Yank victory.
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But during the Series of the World, a bulge in David's back-cake snapped his spirit hymen. And David could not coax hurl against the Marlins.
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And the House of George was defeated.
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And the guessings of seconds soon seeded boils upon David’s supple breasts.
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And David renounced his ties to the House of George.
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And he took vows as a Padre in little town of San Diego.
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There, his quill would never again see censor.
And there, he brought filth to the End of Daze.

2 comments:

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dadlak said...

“I renounce myself for being a bald and larded lout, who hath penned bile in the hope of bedding the runway vixens who shalt rouse a fiery tower from my unremarkable shaft."

What a phrasemaker! Sounds just like Wells's recent commentary on TBS.