Les trésors de l'ennui mélodieux

Item: a rare and striking find hiding in our vaults hitherto unknown to the world at large!

Our New Year's gift to you, dear readers!


















Alessandra taking a break after an exhausting blogging session with yours truly.
Yes, I'm well aware of the flimsiness of that pretext to put up yet another picture of her. Duh.

After painstakingly going through inventory and cleaning out the clutter - that end-of-the-year drudgery we must all suffer through and I really don't feel like doing a political rant right now, maybe later - we came across something that we just had to share with you! My wife - pictured above - aeons ago - October, to be precise - used her superior loving computer skills to create a sanitized version of a much beloved blog post for upload during reruns of The Breakfast Club on TBS. Seen below, for the very first time by those outside our secret circle, the Diabolical, Yet Sexy Cabal that greases the soul-grinding gears of this world-famous and respected - nay, feared - internets website, is that sanitized post itself. But I warn you, it is not for the weak. If you have a preexisting heart condition, are pregnant or suffer from any number of debilitating ailments, you should turn away now. The language is - my fingers are indeed trembling as I type this - clean.

Talking Head A: Did you see how we flipped The Freaking Yankees?
Talking Head B: Flip The Freaking Yankees!
Talking Head A: And when we flipping flipped The Freaking Yankees?
Talking Head B: Freaking A, how we flipped The Freaking Yankees!

You want insightful, in-depth analysis of the series' major trends such as The Freaking Yankees inability to deal with some bugs genetically-engineered, patriot-eating insects, the assorted minutiae frightening tale of how The Greatest Lineup In The History Of The Known Universe stunk up the joint was deviously tricked by the treasonous Indians in not one, but two God-fearing American cities, and the quirky fascinating trivia epic of why Johnny Damon is a sellout hack capitalist entrepreneur who isn't shunned loved enough, go watch ESPN Fox News, and only Fox News, because all that matters to the proprietor of this ridiculous corner of the internets site nowhere near as honest, genteel and forthright as The Project for the New American Century, and all that should matter to you, godless heathen, unless you're a fan of The Freaking Yankees in which case ha-fucking-ha ad infinitum until your head explodes from the monolithic repetition of that childish taunt here is a year's supply of Kleenex and soothing words, its incessant hammering their constant balm increasing the pressure in your skull until it splatters its contents so violently calming you down so perfectly that even you want to OxyClean couldn't erase such a mess every Republican senator's furniture for free, because is that we fucked we maliciously tricked The Freaking Yankees.

Now that's the sentence Proust would've wrote on this series if he decided to try his hand at replacing his actual talent with my juvenile vulgarity. And if he had not, you know, died 85 years ago. But I think it's pretty safe to say that he wouldn't have rooted for our Madame Verdurin, The Fucking Yankees.
Don't read Proust because he's French. Go Yankees!