The feud continues...

Love him or hate him, Raimster is a loyal member of the Dong (Donger? Dongite?) and has earned the privilege to send me hate mail.

If you're keeping up with the blog, we're in the midst of a little disagreement regarding the awesome city of Chicago and the sphincter that is Pittsburgh.

To summarize: Pittsburgh has a historically shitty baseball team and can't afford an NBA franchise. The rest of the argument was a little confusing, so I'll conveniently ignore it.

The newest installment from Raimster McShaim:

>>>>>>

Dear DonkeyPornLovers,

Here's what I think of when I think of Chicago: Balls.

See, balls can be wonderful. Toys, even. They can be loving and tender, warm and safe. But balls can also be shriveled and hurtful, embarrassing and disdained. Chicago has such a rich tradition of flat streets, one iconic athlete in the last 30 years, and pizza. But you losers ruin it the same way you ruin everything. You're pessimists. You call it the Windy City and not something more gleeful, like the Breezy City or the Airy City. This is Marketing 101. Lousy negative nancies, you are. Like the picture of my wife you so dutifully exposed to your seven precious readers last week... Sure, she smells like ass and her farts may or may not have caused Katrina, but she's a real peach. Instead of exposing her exposed and sore thighs to the world, why not show the people a picture of the girl who sits next to me every year as I watch my precious black and gold consistently go 7-1 or 8-0 at home.



Kegs, jump on that fast... She turns 17 next week.

Chicago constantly takes the good and makes it bad and that is their facts of life. Which brings me to my next point.

When thinking of the differences between Chicago and Pittsburgh, you can pretty much sum it all up in the TV shows set in our beloved cities. The City of Steel is home to Mr. Belvedere, a wholesome sitcom family, adolescence, and, of course, sports. Mr. Belvedere was raw at times, dare I say racy, but never grotesque or hotheaded. I'd buy any one of the countless high-collar sweaters that covered Tracy Wells' possibly mountainous chest. It ended after a mere 8 seasons, constantly leaving viewers wanting more, not unlike Tracy Wells' sweaters.

Chicago, on the other semen-stained hand, is home to Love and Marriage, a hilarious-if-you-think-a-dude-sticking-his-hand-down-his-pants-is-consistently-funny show about pretty much nothing. The show was annoying every episode. It wasn't just on for a long time. IT WAS ALWAYS ON. It failed to make even a young Christina Applegate appealing and should have been a two minute skit on SNL. Had it been, I probably would have laughed.

In conclusion, I don't regret the day in 1994 I sold my Pirate soul to the devil in exchange for consistently great teams in my other sports.

Don't listen to the TPC, lovely residents of Beaver Falls, Aliquippa, McKeesport. You're a city of winners, optimists, and, most importantly, Mr. Belvedere.

4 hours till Buhrle v.Karstens

Sh. McB.

>>>>>>

So, after shutting out the butt pirates in the first 2 games (6-0), the buckos manage to steal one in the 9th inning of game 3 to salvage a 1-2 series with the ChiSox (despite the Pirates superior record (come on, the NL is a joke anyway). To reverse quote Bobby Jenks:
"The way I look at it is if I blow one out of every 11, and if I get 44 chances, that's a pretty good year."

...And if you put together a good team one out of every 30 years, that's a pretty shitty franchise.

There was also a wonderful article in ESPN this week, outlining the decades of shittitude that the Pirates have had endured since skinny Bonds. A delightful read. 

Sidenote: it's Married With Children (not Love and Marriage, you fuck) and it kicks the living shit out of Mr. fucking Belvedere. And for your information, senior uninformed, Ed O'Neil (aka Al Bundy) was a stud football player in college and was signed by none other than the Pittsburgh Steelers in 1969 as an outside linebacker. Look it up on Wikipedia, babydick.

One last note to our loyal readers - do not allow the hot chick in the Steelers shirt to sway your allegience (uncle Keg will always take care of you):

-KEG

Damn you Raimster McShaim

I got this entirely entertaining email today from my friend/nemises who hails from Pittsburgh, PA.

>>

Dear smelly douchefarts,

Beware of the 'Wings. But beware-r of the Pens. Be careful what you wish for when you match up against Osgood and crew Sunday afternoon. You know from the Winter Classic that Detroit is tough, experienced, and disciplined. You may not realize, however, that the team you will see in the Finals, should you shoulder past the defending champs, is both tough yet finessed, experienced yet youthful, disciplined yet reckless. I know you can't look past the conference finals; it'd be silly to. But I hope you spent the last 2 weeks of outrageous rest at least glancing at your brethren in the East to ogle the city storming in from the annals of a recent Super Bowl win, slashing through their historic rivals (Flyers and Caps) in glistening fashion, frothing at the mouth for their next victim. The Pens are ready to exorcise last year's cup loss. But should you eliminate Hossa & Friends, Inc., Sid the Kid will be waiting for you.

Now, we didn't need much motivation to beat the Philadelphia. But Alexander Semin gave us some extra bulletin board material and Coach Cowher is doing the same for the upcoming series. Clearly, if the Red Wings make it, the repeat factor from last year will be enough to boil Geno's blood. But, you Hawks fans, you haven't enraged us...yet. In fact, there is no rivalry here, whatsoever. Bears/Steelers? Illini/Pitt? All we got is the Cubbies/Bucs and, as we all know, beating up on your dyslexic, ring-wormed, lupus-of-the-brained brother is nothing to brag about. I have no doubt your stupid asses will say something stupid though. And you do not want to piss off LeTang.

So fly past Detroit, we'll take care of 'Lina. Let's meet in the Finals. I'm warning you though: You've never seen a Penguin's Dong before. It may be just a sack of testes, but it's not something you want to mess with. See you in 2 weeks.

Love,
Steely McStanley Cup

>>

Now, in most cases, I'd just do what I normally do when someone tries to piss me off: kill their parents, shit on their bed and kill their pets. However, when it comes to the infamous Raimster, it's not so simple.  He doesn't have any pets.

It's also much harder to talk shit when the Hawks just got whooped by the Wings in game 1 and we're the underdog in the series (as opposed to the Crosby's, who are favored to go to the cup).

Aside from some purposful omissions that bolster the argument (you shitsburgites don't even have a basketball team), I have to agree - it's a really good time to be a Pittsburgh fan.

Now go back to rooting for your second rate team (let's be honest here, nobody really gives half a shit about hockey) and sit on your hands until football season.

-KEG