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?

keep-calm-winter-is-here-3

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?

Greetings! Let us not dally and get straight to the point. Not since Dennis Quaid’s pathetic attempt at portraying the legendary Doc Holiday have I ever witnessed a more disgraceful performance. My good men (and good women), this fraud has pulled the wool over our eyes for far too long. His supporters make me want to upchuck my kale smoothies while I wither to my knees, my body quivering with disgust. His 1.60 WHIP (before last night’s bed shizzing) makes me long for Marco Estrada. His 4.88 ERA makes me lust after Chase Whitley. Seriously, RuPaul has higher testicular fortitude. I’d much rather be tied to a razor blade studded lawn chair, naked, with my mouth duck taped and forced to watch Paul Blart: Mall Cop, one AND two, in a cage with starved hyenas along with 50 rattlesnakes than watch Strasburg pitch. Now he’s injured, and if my animal instincts are proven correct, a DL stint is on the horizon. Don’t be shocked if it’s a season ender, which may be a good thing in the long run, like having your family’s rabid dog drowned after blood-lusting after a river otter when you didn’t have the heart to gun it down yourself. [Jay’s Note: Wait, what?] Say one thing for Stephen Strasburg, he’s a disappointment. It’s over.

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! Tis I, the Mad King, writing these opulent scriptures from my Irone throne, deep within the Razzball castle. Smokey, bring me some edibles before I have you whipped like a dog! J-FOH, if you would be so kind, please check the dungeons to see if Christian Slater is still drawing breath, for I was hoping to continue the flaying after having my breathtakingly hot playthings hand feed my an extravagant meal of quail eggs and boar testicles. Slaters’ being scolded for not producing anything of quality since the criminally underrated Hard Rain! RALPH! Unhand my betrothed before I do you like Reek, you scoundrel! I gave five of my illegitimate children as hostage along with five million in jewels that I stole from Rudy, Warden of the North, for that flawless virgin. You can have next though! Jay, do I ask (command) too much of you in expecting that these scrolls be transferred to Wordpress, so that followers of house Razzball may read the gospel? [Jay’s Note: Sorta…] I know that taking over for Littlefinger hasn’t been easy on you. It must be difficult to guzzle red wine all day, flirting with the thousands of beauties of your brothels. Grey, Lord of Light, I only ask that you continue to watch over us all, sending your fire priests, Sky and Seth, to scorch every last remaining bone of these old God worshipping peasants. A NEW AGE IS UPON US!

If you’ve been here before, you know how I do it… every two weeks I’ll be mixing baseball and Game of Thrones. Interesting concept, eh? No? Swallow my Valyrian sword point then. And as always, spoilers ahead!

I am Tehol Beddict, and this is Disgrace/Delight, GOT style! Take Heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight? Have you ever wrestled an 25-foot albino crocodile with you bare hands? Have you ever had a starved mongoose released down the front of your trousers? Better yet, have you ever flung Taijuan Walker out on the mound for your fantasy baseball squadron in 2015? Yes, my friends, tis true. I’ve done each and every one of these things, the Elder Gods as my witnesses, and quite honestly, nothing gets my ticker a poundin like an automatic fire-arm (and my anxiety higher than a yacked out Lindsay Lohan), quite like Walker on the mound for my Seattle Mariners. 7.1 innings pitched with 14 earned runs on 15 hits and 6 walks? Sure, the young Jedi in training known as “Sky Walker” bounced back last night with 8 Ks and only 1 earned run, BUT, he gave up 4 free passes, so he was obviously still shakier than Tom Sizemore after a weekend bender. Honestly, I feel like I let you down… I praised this young buck, preaching that he was definitely all about that hog life when, thus far, he clearly has been less worthy than the deceased Joffrey Baratheon (Spoiler alert! Or was I supposed to say that before I wrote that he died?). From the bottom of my booming and Elder God-made pumping heart, I’d like to apologize with the upmost sincerity. I’d like to say he say he dominates from here on out, but you’ve got to be realistic about these things.

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. 

Thank you, thank you. I am honored to sit here before you now, typing away on this astonishingly torturous throne. Though it’s agonizing to ensconce my tantalizingly toned glutes upon this chair forged from the swords of the vanquished, I’d be deceiving you, loyal subjects of Razzball, if I was to inform you that it didn’t put the wenches into the kind of frenzy I’ve only witnessed after a group of aborigines I was adopted by for five memorable years, cut the throats of six dingo’s, and dropped their writhing corpses into the Tasman Sea. [Jay’s Note: What?]

Ah, where to begin… I was a orphan from my birth, in what would have been the 12th year of the reign of our last great and powerful Targaryen King, dumped in an empty stall in the Scribe’s Hearth, where acolytes practiced the art of letters for those who had the need. The course of my entire life was set in stone on that glorious day, when I was discovered by an acolyte who brought me to Archmaester Grey. Grey, who’s rod, mask, and immense c*ck collection were silver, looked upon my squalling grace and announced that I might actually prove of use one day. Grey told me I was destined to become the greatest man thong model in our world’s history, and then, after traveling the world, flexing my cheeks for money that was beyond my wildest dreams, and sleeping with countless D-list celebrities, I would return to the house of Razzball to put my finest talent to use: Mixing fantasy baseball with quotes from Game Of Thrones, otherwise known as the greatest show in the history of the universe. [Jay’s Note: Eh…] Many other websites write multiple posts on this show, but none have the background to answer all your questions. Any fool can watch the TV show and do an episode recap, but only a true legends read the entire series in two weeks, devouring the history of the GOT world like Kardashians do rapper “D”. If you haven’t read these fascinating stories, or at the very least, watched the show, fear not, for I won’t look down upon you like peasants. Though, I will pity you, for the plain and simple truth that you’re omitting the greatest story ever told from your lives, and it pains me deeply to see you go down this treacherous and lonely path. Spoiler alerts ahead…

Please, blog, may I have some more?