In which images of the base-balling Reuschel brothers, Rick and Paul, are paired with befitting movie titles …

At times and perforce, the homilist’s greatest rhetorical device is knowing when to fall silent and allow the miracles to unfurl in that silence, like an abundant dong released from its underthings. Now is such a time …

Now go and live this day as though it be your last.

(A Minnesotan’s passion: @ratsoff)

Careful in your misdeeds, children. For Kevin Bass is watching you …

No one gets away with anything. Lo, the giant, unblinking eyes of Kevin Bass see all.

(Disconcerting stare: BBTF)

The convention floor is adorned with slaughtered beasts, which is a sure sign that the nomination process, in addition to our notions of human dignity, has expired. Leather Tuscadero, our honorary Maximum Culminating Exchequer, has surveyed the pool of nominees and whittled the list down to 10 finalists, all of whom have been deemed loyal to Dear Leader. So vote, but vote as though a 1975 Chrysler Cordoba is watching you. Because a a 1975 Chrysler Cordoba is absolutely watching you …

Thank you for exercising the franchise.

I had never before in my pointless existence used the phrase “cocksure cocksman” until I laid rheumy eyes upon this image of Ricky Bottalico:

That’s Ricky Bottalico. Those are the kind of pythons you can’t buy in a pet store. And this has been your Daguerreotype of the Evening.

(Reluctant tug-job: Hitting the Cutoff Man)

What we do is assign cool nicknames to players rather than perpetuate the tired, lamewad practice of assigning cool players nicknames. Last time out, Dan Uggla was lushly rewarded with the nickname “Stainless Steel Meat Hammer.” So Mr. Uggla has been added to our Hall of Honouur, which is so stately, so regal, so much itself a celebration of the Norman Conquest, that an extra British-English unstressed “u” is required for proper spelling …

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I normally make a point to avoid spiders, mostly because I have it on good authority that they want to kill me. But this spider?

This spider is different. This spider could knock on the oaken door of my boudoir, and I would open it and, while wearing something uncomplicated, invite him in to ravage me. Baseball Spider, I would say, do with me what you will. Go Twins, I would also say.

(Image and underlying genius courtesy of 365 Spider)

Football is dead and buried, and the grave containing the withering corpse of football is being danced upon. More specifically, it is being homered upon and then danced upon by Rickey Henderson and Jimmy Rollins, men who are as beautiful as they are multitudinous. Bear humbled witness:

GIFSoup

We shall get through this, you and I. Baseball is coming for us. I just know it.

As everyone knows, Tweets — and everything else, really — are better when context is stripped away in the manner of a bodice-ripper’s ripping a bodice. So, without any context whatsoever, here is a rather delightful recent Tweet from James G:

Indeed, who does tell a child something like this? “Do you want to go to the hellscape of America’s Worst State^TM, young, beggared spawn? Perhaps to the bloodless, soul-murdering infinitude of Orlando-based theme parks? Lovely. We’ll go once you get a got-damn retweet or reply from, let’s say, the makers of Jimmy Dean processed meats. No, wait!: The Toronto Blue Jays Baseball Club. Yes, the Blue Jays. Fair enough, jackass?”

So, much like tertiary syphilis needs a chancre, I need your wisdom. Tell me: What kind of a person tells his or her child such a thing?

Add the following to the running list of things that will quite possibly murder you in your sleep tonight:

In addition to the trail of dead, you will know Fell and Murderous Baseball Clown by his jester’s tassles-prison jumper-jorts-FMBs (latter not pictured) ensemble and Buttcheeks of Villainy. This is the last thing you will see before you are brutalized in your nightclothes. Fell and Murderous Baseball Clown is a killing machine and thus at the mercy of his factory settings. In all other regards, the word “mercy” is lost upon him.

Tonight you shall die.