For the third time in his brief but illustrious career, Mike Trout, the one they call the fish, has produced dongage [Jay’s Note: What word is that Tehol?] on his born day. He’s still well short of my record, as I’ve now delivered dongage on 25 consecutive birthdays, including a quad-donging back in 1999. Maaaaan, you really should have seen me in my prime, downing two dozen raw oysters a day, along with a set of steel flutes that would make Van Damme do splits, and had me delivering dongage like Barry Bonds on the juice… But enough about me, I’m just filling in for Dan Pants and Grey the Elder God, and since Grey titled my first ever Razzball post “The One They Call the Fish,” I thought it only right to pay homage to my one true savior and favorite writer. Grey must be busy trying to track Domonic Brown down for an interview for the podcast he’s never invited me on. Laaaaawd, that boy is hotter than fish grease and carrying me on his broad shoulders as we speak (write?). Anyway, here’s what else I witnessed yesterday in fantasy baseball:

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings! It’s crunch time, boys and girls! Are you one of the good people frantically following the trade talks, hoping to find that closer or rookie call up to complete your championship squad? Or are you one of those mud pirates, who has stopped paying attention all together, ruining things for everyone else? I suppose you’re more than likely not reading this if that’s the case, but just in case you are, let me be speak for your leaguemates, and say ef you! In head-to-head leagues, it’s even more despicable, giving undeserving teams huge victories and besmirching the playoff standings. Stick to DFS, for this is a game of Kings, and why I usually insist on playing in high money leagues, where frauds are beheaded like a deserter of the Nights Watch. Kudos to you if you’re still around, fighting for your lives in the greatest game ever invented. You, my goodmen, are warriors and the Elder Gods will write poetry in you honor.

I am Tehol Beddict, and this is, Disgrace/Delight! Take heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings! Hmmm, it seems I’m leaving the good ole U.S. of A on Tuesday to go fishing, and I somehow just realized I don’t get internet reception where I’m headed. Ain’t that bout a be-yatch! I’m not fond of leaving my readers “hanging” as I prefer you all erect… err, anyway, your flaccidness shan’t be a problem, for I’m leaving you with a short post with my second half predictions. Oh, you think yourself to me more intelligent than the Elder Gods and myself, do you? Oh-hoho! Well, I’ll be your huckleberry. Leave all predictions in the comment section, but beware, the Elders seldom allow my defeat and are known to curse generations of my opposition’s families for centuries.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

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Sky: “Beddict, what’s up broseph? Want to manscape each other and hit the Oregon coast for the week? My wife’s finally allowing me hang out with you again after the Playboy mansion incident.”

Beddict: “No can do, big dog. It’s Shark Week. Call me next week and I’ll make sure there’s not a solitary hair anywhere near your junk.”

Grey: “Tehol, I’ve been chosen to write the pilot for what could be the next, Game of Thrones, possibly even bigger, and I’ve chosen YOU to collaborate on it, you know, because of your rapier wit and panty dropping charm. Total life changer here, Tehol.”

Beddict: “First off; nothing will EVER eclipse GOT, as it’s the greatest show of all time. and 2nd: C’mon son….IT’S SHARK WEEK!”

Jay: “T-Beeeeeezy, guess who’s in town, playa?! That’s right, me, Jay Long-Dong! I received 30 Tinder matches since I landed in Sea-town, and they all want to get wasted at Beddict Manor for a week straight.”

Beddict: “No can do, Kimosabe. Nobody loves butt naked freaks more than Beddict, and I know we’ve never actually hung out, but bruh, Shark Week. Maybe next year…..Just a different week of next year.”

J-Foh: “TEHOL, you old son of a gun how are ya. Any chance you can watch my kid for a couple days while I go catch the donkey show in TJ?”

Beddict: [Hangs up phone.]

IT’S Mother EFFing SHARK WEEK, YA’LL!!!!!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Ittttttttttt’s sooooooo haaaaaaaaard to saaaaaaaay gooooooodbyyyyyyye to yesterdaaaaaaaaaaay. Greetings! Yes, yes, I’m back, needing a week off to mourn the ending of another epic season of Game of Thrones. (Be sure to check out the Razzball pod covering the finale!) Some of you may be joyous over the fact that I won’t be posting anymore Westeros mashups, but then again, some of you aren’t right in the head. I come back to you, rested and perky, much like Cersei Lannister’s body double’s breasts, ready to get back on my job, which is dropping hot lava rocks, praising the Elder God chosen, and mercilessly disintegrated the souls of the weak whom are causing those of us unfortunate enough to own them, to drop our drawls, grab our ankles, and take a 3 foot rod all the way to the guts. No mercy, no fear.

I am Tehol Beddict, and this is Disgrace/Delight. Take heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings! What a day. What a muph*ckin day! LeBron James has officially ascended into Godhood as we are witnessing a beast of the likes I haven’t seen since Rocky Balboa got absolutely shredded and destroyed by the supposedly indestructible Ivan Drago. I’ve been on my knees more often than an alter boy as of late, giving all that I have to the city of Cleveland, giving all that I possess in rooting on The King, Machine Gun Delly, and the rest of these scrubs. IF they pull this off, it is without question, the largest finals upset in NBA history. Well, at least since I was birthed by the Queen of the Elder Gods on the rim of Mt. Vesuvius… Oh… this is a baseball post… My apologies, as I know most of you could care less about the NBA finals, but seriously this is incredible television and I hope you get involved. Let’s talk a little baseball though, shall we, my goodmen (and women)?

I am Tehol Beddict, and this is, Disgrace/Delight! Take heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

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All hail his grace, Tehol of House Beddict and House Razzball, first of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of Fantasy Baseball, and Protector of the Realm.

Come, sit with me at the fire pit while we witness Grey, Lord of Light, burn another traitor at the stake. Ahhhh, I love a good BBQ, don’t you? Rudy Gamble, Warden of the Norh, is here, rambling on and on about how statistics show that gelded men are superior warriors. Oh Sky, I’m truly sorry. The theory HAD to be tested. Sending the High Sparrow, Jay Wrong, to bring you up on false charges, imprison you for 2 and ½ months, feeding you gruel, and b*tch slapping you with the ladel every time you got mouthy was a tad over the top, but hey, I’m a King, and am extremely busy. Kind of forgot you were in there. J-FOH, bring me another glass of red wine with a wildfire floater, would you? And no lip this time. I don’t want to have to feed your spleen to the direwolves. Really, J-FOH, you can be quite mouthy. RAAAAAAAAAALPH, by “the 7”, you are a right lackadaisical bastard. Were you touched by a stone man recently, or were you just sucking the pipe with Ser Smokey again? I REQUESTED my armor  removed over 20 minutes ago. Oh, imagined I’d enjoy roasting by the fire, sweating my kingly balls off, did you? Don’t make your King command Grand Maester Mike to lace your milk of the poppy with donkey urine again. That brings to mind the time my Dragon, Dom Brown, the Dread, almost choked to death on the last assassin who dared make an attempt on my life. [As always, Game of Thrones spoilers ahead!]

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings! Surprise, tis not Grey the Elder God, nor Dan Pants, but I, Tehol Beddict, wordsmith and fantasy baseball extraordinaire. Some of you may have been wondering where my Game of Thrones post was this week (okay, maybe, like, two of you), but truth be told, I was in the type of NyQuil induced coma that would make Anna Nicole Smith (RIP Bae) jealous. (And if you’d like to hear me in my NyQuil induced coma while talking about Game of Thrones, be sure to check out the newest Fantasy Football podcast.) Say one thing for Tehol Beddict, he loves NyQuil. You see, when I’m sick, I despise doing anything, so I just skip the DayQuil and just stay home and take the night-time stuff, dozing off every few hours, awaiting the end of the torture that is the common cold. During these moments of sedation, I’ve realized some interesting side effects from NyQuil that I believe could change an entire industry. And what industry is that you ask? The porn industry of course! That tasty green liquid makes it extremely difficult to orgasm and also thickens the Au jus, making for the ultimate money shot! The only problem I foresee with introducing this into the adult entertainment world is that, being that it makes one so tired, how can one bring the energy forth to really slam it home? An IV with sugar free Red Bull perhaps? Either way, I think I’ve found something… Wait, am I supposed to be writing about baseball? [Jay’s Note: One can only hope…] Ahhh, yes.

Speaking of drugs, Josh Hamilton is BACK! Back with the team with which he rose to fame. Back to dropping double-dongage on the opposition as if they were Paula Abdul on a Tuesday night in autumn (do-do ya love me!?). I was high on Hamilton (no pun intended, MAYBE) before the season began, but now that he’s back in Texas, where he’s comfortable, I couldn’t be higher… unless I took a double dose of NyQuil. NEVER DO THAT!  I’m sure Hambone was immediately swooped in leagues he wasn’t previously owned after yesterday’s two-bomb performance, but needless to say, if he’s there, go head and make that happen friends.

Anyway, here’s what else I saw yesterday in fantasy baseball, TAKE HEED!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings! How’s your week going? Swimmingly, I pray. How’s mine? First off, thanks for asking, for it’s much appreciated. I have a 88-year-old Grandmother with a severe alzheimer’s and a broken hip, so things could certainly be better. That’s without mentioning what is seemingly a wasted season for Corey Dickerson and sliding in at dead last in one my RCL leagues. Ahhhhh, the Elder Gods have decided among themselves to test me this week, seeing if I will wilt and ball up like a baby as if I were Lindsay Lohan after her coke dealer began screening her calls. Say one thing for Tehol Beddict, he’s a artist. And I WILL NOT stop pouring out my heart and soul into this Razzballian scripture, not until my final breath. With that being said, I’m exhausted, so let’s move along shall we.

I am Tehol Beddict, and this is, DISGRACE/DELIGHT! TAKE HEED!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

All hail his grace, Tehol of House Beddict and House Razzball, first of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of Fantasy Baseball, and Protector of the Realm.

Greetings! I come to you flaccid and weary after a five day boar hunting/brothel hopping excursion. A nice treat from my loyal subjects, celebrating the fact that Peter King, the first King of the Andals, wrote a blurb on how much he adores Razzball.com. Now, I’m guessing he’s never read Beddict scripture, but who am I to turn down an opportunity to take down the same breed of beast that brought a heartbreaking end to my very dear friend, Robert Baratheon, not to mention unsheathing my long sword a time or two, all while being rip-roaringingly tanked? After Maester Sky closely inspected my unmentionables, giving me what looks like a years supply of penicillin and three anti-itch creams, I remembered I still had work to do! There were many disgraceful performances over this past week or two, the kind of disgraces that make Jorah Mormont’s traitorous ways seem almost acceptable, and if you believe a few “possible” STDs are going to stop me from taking quill to parchment, then good ser’s (and madam’s), you are sadly mistaken. Let us not forget those who shined like a young Rhaegar Targaryen on the battlefield, and may their songs be hummed by children in the Godswood for hundreds of years… If you’ve visited me here before, you know how I do it… every two weeks I’ll be mixing baseball and Game of Thrones. (Jay and I also dedicate a segment to the show on the Fantasy Football Podcast!) Interesting concept, eh? No? You must like the taste of ice cold Valaryian steel, sir! And as always, spoilers ahead!

Please, blog, may I have some more?