Guess who’s bizack? The boy T.B. Mizack, a.k.a. Mr. snatch-a-trick! Greetings and salutations, ya’ll! I can’t begin to imagine the devastation you felt not having a post from yours truly last week. I envision you feeling so powerless, so weak. Were you forced to scroll through sports websites, that, for some God’s forsaken reason, still use mother effing slide shows? That’s all inconsequential now, for I, Tehol Beddict, am back.

Now, you all may also be wondering about my absence on Razzball Radio this week, and for that, my excuse is anything but true. If you’ve been reading my posts for the past year or so, you know about my vast amount of various charities. Two weeks ago, I led an expedition to the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro, bringing along all the children of a nearby orphanage I fund. Soon after we heroically reached the mountaintop, I decided there was no better time for a photo opp, to bring some much needed notoriety to the needs of the children of Tanzania, and possibly re-establish my floundering modeling career. What a grave error in judgement this turned out to be, as I took one faulty step, tripped on a rock, and tumbled 400 yards down the mountain side. If not for a local Tanzanian explorer deterring my continued slide, I would not be typing this to you now, nor typing to you ever again for that matter, for I’d be deader than Neve Cambell’s career. I owe my new friend, Ambakisye, a great deal of gratitude, for he saved my life, keeping hope alive, that one day I will be a world famous writer.

My nose was badly broken, so I’ve been popping enough OXY and Valium to incapacitate a horse, and one would clearly understand why I could’t be seen on television like this. Next week is a possibility, but only the Elder Gods truly know my fate. Again, noting the fact that I’m highly medicated and literally nodding off while I type this, we’re going to have to keep it short and sweet this week on Disgrace/Delight. (Jay(Wrong) gets down on his knees and thanks the Gods. Now he has time to watch The Fountain for 223rd time). [Ed. Note — This is true. Except it was Big Trouble in Little China…] With no episode of Game of Thrones being shown this next Sunday, I feel like next week is the perfect time to dive balls deep back into my GOT Disgrace/Delight epic posts you have all grown to know and love. Ok, before I pass out, let’s get on with this. Take Heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Long, long ago, in a realm us mere mortals would know nothing about, there was a secret assemblage of the Elder Gods, for something of vast importance had come to light. An event of this magnitude is the only thing that can force the congregation of the Elders, for you see, the Elders can’t help but bicker between themselves about who’s power is supreme, whose creations are superior, and who has bagged the hottest chicks. Please, blog, may I have some more?

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Ever had one of those years where everything that could conceivably go wrong, does? I can tell you all, 100 percent honesty, that this has never happened to me before, and much like Lindsay Lohan, I am feeling lost, lonely, and pretty damn confused about my embarrassing fall from grace. It all began when I was invited to participate in the #1 RCL league, which includes Grey, Rudy, and countless other fantasy legends (like not-Jay). I was beyond ecstatic at the opportunity to prove I was best in the business at this fantasy sh*t, and after the draft, there was no doubt in my mind I would compete for the title. My team seemingly had it all; A dynamic mix of power and speed, a wondrous collection of power arms who played for winning organizations, and unquestionably more upside than any other team. I had it all, baby!

As I now look at the standings and witness my team falling all the way to 11th place,  my dreams have been utterly demolished. Finally, an opportunity to play with the big dogs, and I totally disgrace myself. I feel like Christian Slater attempting to get into an A-list Hollywood party. The rejection is too much to bear, and I’m having thoughts about going back to doing solo porn jack-off videos. Let’s analyze the team that keeps me up at night. What went wrong? To me, this was a championship contending team, without question. It’s become a bottom feeding bum-fest, and I’m strongly considering throwing in the towel.

Shall we meet the team?

Please, blog, may I have some more?

“He is a prince of Dorne. Men and women will line up to f*ck him until the day he dies.”

[Game of Thrones spoilers ahead!] The probable reign of Prince Giancarlo Stanton, aka The Yardfather from House Ravishing, is upon us. Has anyone among you ever witnessed such a statuesque and magnificently proportioned beast?  Has a single one of you viewed a more virtuous and angelic presence, possessing both kindness and strength? Here and now I command you to step forward if you have knowledge of a more deserving candidate! Did someone just say, Adam Jones? That sort of insolence is usually  rewarded with a swift kick to the chin from my steel toed, ostrich leather boots! Stanton leads the majors with 27 RBIs and holds a sturdy .357 OBP, and that’s with the usual disgraceful lineup protection. I swear to the Elder Gods, I almost came in my Versace man-thong when Stanton crushed that walk-off grand slam against Seattle (my home team) last week. Is Prince Giancarlo’s emergence near the time of disgraceful King Joffrey’s death coincidence? I think not.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

“I’ve had a vision so great, as it came to me I wept.”

Greetings! Tis I, Tehol Beddict, and last night I witnessed Stephen Strasburg grasping his ankles, shutting his eyelids, gritting his teeth, and receiving the kind of punishment I haven’t seen or thought possible since Tupac verbally accosted the Notorious B.I.G. and his entire crew back in 95. Witnessing this made me think of the film Waterworld. Why you ask? I’m not 100 percent positive, but it’s probably the way superstar, Kevin Costner, was slammed by critics for his dry, mediocre performance in the same fashion I continuously bash Strasburg for his ineptitude on the mound. This brought on a vision of intertwining Strasburg and Waterworld, into another epic fantasy baseball post, and when the vision hit me, I wept tears of joy.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

“I’m a prince, boy. Have you ever been with a prince? …Take off your clothes.”

No, this isn’t Tehol quoting Tehol, regurgitating the way I speak to my Thai boy handlers when I’m doing  thong shoots in Phuket. Very similar verbiage, but no, this fascinating quote comes from none other than the legendary, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, a man I’m positive you will come to love throughout season four of HBO’s Game of Thrones. Like a supreme vortex, “GOT” has sucked in the entire nation, and it’s well past time it was brought forth into the wondrous world of fantasy baseball. [Ed. Note– Oh, you mean like here, and here, and, ahem, here? FIRST! Bwahahahah.] Some people say fantasy baseball is the equivalent of D&D for jocks. Well, I for one, want a piece of both worlds! The season four premier was a masterful work of art, as I’m fully reminded as to why I was so entranced by the novels. Let’s have some fun and intertwine some of the premium quotes from the season premier with the annual Delight/Disgrace column. Will you allow me the pleasure of doing this? No? Too late, for I am already balls deep. and I’m on some Geno Auriemma/Charlie Sheen winning type-ish thing. So let us begin. [Warning, Game of Thrones Spoilers ahead!]

Please, blog, may I have some more?

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there’s nothin’ left
Cause I’ve been toutin and praisin Domonic so long,
That even Grey and Jay(Wrong) think that my mind is gone
But I ain’t never praised a man that didn’t deserve it
“Sir” Dom or Beddict treated like a punk? you know that’s unheard of
You better watch how you manage and how you baller block.
Or you and your staff  gonna be given your papers to walk
I really hate to trip but I gotta loc
As Mayberry chokes, I see myself in the Payote smoke, fool
I’m the kinda writer/model the little homies wanna be like
On my knees sacrificing goats every night saying prayers to the Elder Gods in the streetlight
Been Speeeeending most my life, livin’ in the Models/strippers/writers Paradise!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

As of right now, is anything in this endless universe more scorching hot that Matthew McConaughey? When you take into account his performance in the criminally underrated film, Mud, his epic scene stealing performance in, The Wolf of Wall Street, which was possibly the greatest part of the movie which one would think impossible considering the countless classic scenes that Wall Street has within, and his Oscar winning performance in the true story of, The Dallas Buyers Club, the answer is a resounding, NO! There is none hotter.  Oh yea, I almost forgot to mention, Matty Ice, tag teaming viewers into submission along with partner, and legend in his own right, Woody Harrelson, in the undeniable classic series, True Detective. If his Oscar speech didn’t prove to you that this man cannot be touched right now, then you may want to go see a doctor, for you are clinically insane.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

It began as a whisper… a promise… the lightest of breezes danced above the cries of  men and women cheering him on in little league. That breeze became a wind. A wind of freedom… a wind of justice… a wind of vengeance. The time has come, my Beddictites, to prepare yourselves for a breakout of epic proportions. I speak not of the Herp, but of the Harp; Bryce Harper to be clear.

Some would argue that Nostradamus’s greatest prophesy was made in the year 1566, mere days before his horrific case of the Gout brought him to his death bed. “What prophesy is this you speak of, oh wise and charming Beddict?” Ask and thou shalt receive. A deep search into the annals of Nostradamus’s journals produced this historic find– “In the year of our Elder Gods, 2014, a breathtakingly handsome young writer will come out of the shadows and change the world forever. He will no doubt be criticized by many a troglodyte [Ed. Note– Good word usage bro.], but he shall not hold it against them, for they not know better. On March 10, 2014, this debonaire young man, who will be known as the Mark Twain/William Shakespeare of his generation, will make a prediction about another chosen one, another young man I have seen in my dreams, an athlete of sorts.  These overwhelmingly powerful visions of this brutish boy swinging what seems to be a wooden stick at a bloodless round object have seemingly pushed me to the brink of my grave. It’s either these visions or this Mother F’ing gout! Anyway, I know not what this prediction shall be, but whatever it is, it will have an 85 percent chance of coming to fruition. These two young men’s futures will be forever intertwined for better or for worse. Take heed, for it has been written. I can now die in peace knowing my last true vision has been recorded in my leather-bound and padlocked journal. Now, if only this useless peasant, wife of mine would bring me my favorite chocolate sprinkled crepes along with some brie. Tis a virtual certainty she’s yet again, getting bent over in the barn by my stable boy, Mortimer. By the Gods, I despise that whore.” It’s been said those were the last sentences ever written by Damus, as he passed and now resides with Hood in “House Death.”

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings! Tis I, Tehol Beddict, back again to educate, subjugate, and perhaps even procreate if you deem myself worthy. Last week’s post got a bit nasty, but guess what? I’m a nasty boy, just like my deceased brother Biggie, so I liked it. My closest friends speak to me like I’m Jonathan Martin, so these negative comments didn’t cut too deep. A trip to Scottsdale was all my chicken and I required to return to the writing world like Jesus, when the whole needs us. My Arizona trip in a nutshell: Steamy modeling shoot in Scottsdale, tanning nude with the Phoenix Suns dance team, speaking with government officials about their negative reception to gays and minorities and how it must stop or I will no longer be visiting their desert wasteland of a city, and ending it all with some of the most sumptuous lap dances I’ve ever experienced, including one from the beazle who starred in the cult hit Grandma’s Boy (probably NSFW). I hate that movie by the way. Despise it really. Moving on.

Please, blog, may I have some more?