It’s more than just an Inadequate Condom. It’s a Bloggy Sport!
Velociman tries in vain to hit Elisson’s deadly pitch.
(Click to embiggen.)
Thosehappy idiots fine Online Journalists coming to Helen, Georgia to attend the upcoming Blown-Eyed Blodgemeet for the first time will discover that it’s not just about the Boozy Camaraderie.
There’s Boozy Athletics involved as well. Namely, that fine game, ostensibly of Savannahian origin, Half-Rubber.
Think of Stick-Ball played without bases and with half of a solid pink rubber ball instead of the sacred Spaldeen of bygone days, beloved by Northeastern city dwellers.
Yes. Half of a ball. That’s why it’s called half-rubber, ya dewemplin. A skillful pitcher can throw that hemispherical ball in any number of bizarre trajectories, owing to its unique aerodynamics. It’s all in the wrist.
This photograph, graciously provided by Eric the Straight White Guy, shows Velociman vainly trying to get his skinny-ass broomstick bat on one of my impossible-to-hit pitches. That’s Redneck, catching.
The sound thrashing I delivered unto Velociman in this, my maiden Half-Rubber outing, is probably what eventually impelled him to give up blogging. Just sayin’. It’s my theory, and I’m sticking to it.
Come to Helen and see for yourself. Perhaps you, too, can thrash Velociman.
Velociman tries in vain to hit Elisson’s deadly pitch.
(Click to embiggen.)
Those
There’s Boozy Athletics involved as well. Namely, that fine game, ostensibly of Savannahian origin, Half-Rubber.
Think of Stick-Ball played without bases and with half of a solid pink rubber ball instead of the sacred Spaldeen of bygone days, beloved by Northeastern city dwellers.
Yes. Half of a ball. That’s why it’s called half-rubber, ya dewemplin. A skillful pitcher can throw that hemispherical ball in any number of bizarre trajectories, owing to its unique aerodynamics. It’s all in the wrist.
This photograph, graciously provided by Eric the Straight White Guy, shows Velociman vainly trying to get his skinny-ass broomstick bat on one of my impossible-to-hit pitches. That’s Redneck, catching.
The sound thrashing I delivered unto Velociman in this, my maiden Half-Rubber outing, is probably what eventually impelled him to give up blogging. Just sayin’. It’s my theory, and I’m sticking to it.
Come to Helen and see for yourself. Perhaps you, too, can thrash Velociman.
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