Saturday, May 06, 2006

The Gays, Willie Mays And The A's


Little has been made of the overwhelmingly gay demographics of San Francisco and how it impacts the local baseball team – the Queer Factor, if you will.

The Old Lady grew up in the Mission District in the little peninsula of Fag Central, and recalls being dragged to ballgames at Seals Stadium in 1958 by her Old Man, a heterosexual mechanic with the build of a fireplug. That was before the joke of a ballpark named Candlestick Park was built in the cold, fallow Hunter’s Point section of the city, which can be described as San Francisco’s anus, no doubt to the delight of the boys in the Castro District.

Wealthy fags have made “The City” (their affectation, not mine) an overpriced, hyper-leftist Babylon. It is a debauched symbol of capitalist greed – and was long before buttboys dominated its civic life – whose public officials spurt out ideological jism with such prescient syllogisms concluding “there is no need for a military in the United States.” (That’s according to City Supervisor Gerardo Sandoval on national television Feb. 14, 2006.)

I don’t know about Sandoval – who is an attorney, by the way – but it seems to me that millions of men ( most straight, some gay) have volunteered or been drafted by the American Armed Services for the express purpose to defend his right to swallow urine flowing from his lover’s cock while he submitted a writ of certiorari.

But life is cruel when you’re a Great Big Fag like Barry Bonds. He swore off anal action a long time ago, ever since his scrotum disappeared. There is a nightclub in the Castro that amputates genitalia, and they’re all Giants fans. They worship before a diorama of Bonds, the one with the jewelry dangling out of his earlobe, symbolic of the loss they celebrate ceremonially by watching, with baited breath, every one of his at-bats. They share his pain.

Bonds reminds me of the old drag queens who flagged me down when I was a taxi driver. The ravages of age and meth abuse had finally caught up to them, but they refused to admit it. The stink of stale aftershave – that unmistakable gay guy’s brand that no other normal man or woman buys – introduced itself five feet before they creaked into the back seat and lost control of their high heels. Liquor assaulted the air as soon as they started to cackle their destination. Then they’d tell you what a crime it was that they couldn’t marry their nephew.

That’s the kind of baseball veteran Barry Bonds has become. The offensive odor precedes him, as sure as the boos begin twenty seconds before his name is called over the public address.

In a way, Bonds’ perversion of the sport has overshadowed the Giants inability to win a World Series since moving to San Francisco the same year my Old Lady’s Old Man started taking her out to see Willie Mays in his prime. That’s a good drought, but I have no sympathy for The Bay Area. The Athletics, stolen from Philadelphia, have won four titles since they moved to the Oakland ghetto in 1968 from Kansas City.

Could Mother Nature be punishing the homosexuals? I mean, AIDS is bad enough, but no baseball championship parade through the Castro…jeesh. How do people get a woodie for this team?

Meanwhile, back in Philly tonight – our fags believe in the military here – Barry The Cocksucking Fake was held to a lazy hit, and it was all worth it, if only to see how a once-spry athlete has disabled his ability to avoid getting struck by a batted ball and, thus, be banned from the basepaths. It effectively killed one of the many rallies that the Giants erected but couldn’t consummate. Amazingly, Ryan Madson gave up a meager run – and it wasn’t even really his fault, it was a passed ball thrown by his relief pitcher – and the Phils triumphed 4-1. Utley homered again to put the Phillies ahead in the first, and they never looked back.

I’d say it was an easy win, but the luck plane shifted the Phils’ direction all night, as it has for the last seven straight wins. True skill was demonstrated by the indomitable Flash Gordon, who had another 1-2-3 ninth inning for the save.

Flash knows better to violate nature and play in a cursed city.

3 Comments:

Anonymous ChuckM said...

A few notes...If I was Ryan Madson, I would have headed down to Atlantic City after the game as Lady Luck was surely on his side last night...One last chance to lay claim to have heckled Bonds in person tonight, but after the last 2 games its obvious that he is broken down, a liabilty to the Giants and should retire ASAP so the Giants can get to work with a sorely needed rebuilding program...After reading Billy Wagners latest persecution complex bleating in the Inkwire this morning, we Phans have some real fresh meat to dig into and Bonds is just like picking at a carcass these days.

7/5/06 11:46 AM  
Blogger Tacony Lou said...

Well said, Chuck, and heckling BillyBoy The Alpaca Fucker will be good sport this week -- if Burrell doesn't strangle him first.

7/5/06 4:34 PM  
Anonymous ChuckM said...

Lou,
If there is one player in MLB that has pummeled the Mets throughout his career, it has been Burrell. Even during his dark days of 2003, Pat managed to tee off on them. I cant picture a better scenario than a walk-off HR by Burrell sometime next week off of Billy Goat.

7/5/06 5:43 PM  

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