Once, long ago, magic flowed through my brain, producing works of literary phenomena on my trusted and secure Mac Book Pro. These fingers worked more proficiently than Amber Rose’s as she brought Kanye West to orgasm through thorough butt-stuff. It’s been said I was the Vivaldi of fantasy sports writing, so what, you might ask yourself, caused me pull a Nicolas Cage and go from Oscar winner to Oscar Pistorious? Was it the drugs? I suppose that could have played a small role. Was it because my star has yet to rise amongst this plethora of d*ck-limping writers out in the fantasy sports universe? It gets to me, I cannot lie to you my goodmen (and women). But that never stopped me before… hmmmmm, what could it be? What else, but a woman! She told me I “sucked the soul out her butt”, but somehow I was the one who ended up empty and lifeless. What could I do but grovel on the jagged and frigid flooring of the cell she would lock me in at night after pleasuring her? Her juices were literally the only nutrients supplied to my once ripped body. Crippled and weak, I managed to escape one night while she was catching a Friends marathon on Netflix, breaking, nay, slithering out a fourth story window, where I began free-falling to what I believed to be my certain death, only to fall in the back of truck filled with black market Cialis packages. I snorted one, and immediately gained the strength to return to Beddict manor in order to regain my strength. Still, I lacked the motivation to write……

Oh wise and powerful Elder Gods, I am on my knees, begging you to remove these chains of bondage from all my appendages, for I am lost and the goodmen of Razzball desire the old Beddict. I’m no longer entertaining, creative, insanely handsome (okay, that’s a lie), or knowledgeable about fantasy sports. Wait! Hold on, I feel something! Even now, as I type these very words, I can feel the Elder blood beginning to pulsate within my veins, bubbling like Mt. Vesuvius, moments before it’s eruption! F*ck this, 2016 is mine, and I dare any mortal to step in my path!

I am Tehol Beddict, and this is, Disgrace/Delight! TAKE HEED!

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! 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?

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?

Oh there’s a shindig goin down in Miami ya’ll! Part of me feels like I should hop on the next flight down there bringing only my man-kini, penis pump, rabbit-fur coat, white Stacy Adams, one pair of snakeskin pants, and 3 Armani Exchange bro-tops. My manhood has been requested back in Miami now for some time and with my favorite player, LeBron “The High King” James, leading his Miami Heat to back-to-back Championships, I can’t think of an acceptable reason to say no. Especially when I think about the time Pat Riley and I, Chinese finger trapped Chris Bosh’s wife. A$$ for days playas! By the way, Bosh scored 0 points in game 7.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Grey Albright just may be the greatest visionary of our time. A modern day Nostradamus even. I’ll admit that I didn’t want to buy into the hype surrounding Paul Goldschmidt but now I feel like I deserve a good d!cks slapping. This behemoth homered off the legends known as Kershaw and Kenley Jansen Wednesday night and he’s now batting 313 with 9 dongs, 30 ribbys and 4 base thefts. I haven’t seen this kind of savagery displayed since I witnessed a crew of catholic priests running a train on a teenage boy I once modeled with. Needless to say, I wish I owned him as the man is a true points league monster. How do you do it Grey? I consider myself one of the top 5 most all around talented fantasy players on planet earth and that includes football, basketball and obviously baseball, but Mr. Albright just may have me licked when it comes to roto and I don’t mean sexually. He’s got a mustache fit for an 80’s porn star as well as a heart of gold and you gotta respect it. Enough slurping of the boss. Let’s get to what I saw this week.

Please, blog, may I have some more?