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?

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 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!

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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. 

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…

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Greetings! The time has come! This is what we’ve all been so patiently waiting for! Yaaaaaaasssss, Bruce Jenner’s sex change is upon us!!! Rejoice! It’s also a cool time of the year because MLB is starting up again. I suppose that means we should get down on some mo fantasy baseball type shizzz. Are you ready? No, I said, ARE YOUR READY!?!? Okay, sweet.

I so desperately wanted to write a preseason piece on Domonic Brown, but I was notified that he received over 500 words in my outfielders post, making it a no go this week. Can you even imagine? That would be like some moron pathetically green lighting a sequel to Paul Blart: Mall Cop. Only my Domonic column would probably go on to win awards and Blart 2 would be about as entertaining as watching Rosie O’Donnell’s love box fart for two straight hours…..WHAT?!?!?!?!? THEY’RE MAKING A PAUL BLART SEQUEL!??! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE!?!?!? My generation got Home Alone and Radio Flyer. The children of today get Paul effing Blart? Kevin James should be ashamed of himself for this. It’s embarrassing enough piggybacking the falling star that is Adam Sandler into 90% of his movie roles, but this is beyond pathetic. Hey, at least his untalented brother will get another meaningless role. Laaaaaawd, make it stop.

Enough about Blart. I’m here to talk about closers. I am Tehol Beddict, and this is Disgrace/Delight! Take Heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

I dont ef with none of y’all sites anyway

Your funeral could be any day

Ever since Domonic Brown said, “Beddict, let me play”

All these haters been in the way

I’m just doin what Grey and Rudy say

Putting out 1000 tweets a day

Greetings! I came extra hard-body with the intro today, for the fact that I can’t recall EVER being so keyed up for a fantasy baseball season. My game slipped last year and I’m not proud of it. One could say swinger clubs, mankini modeling across the globe, and building schools for the underprivileged took up most of my time, but say one thing for Tehol Beddict, he’s not one to rationalize subpar results. Much of my spare time has been spent making countless sacrifices to the Elder Gods in hopes of gaining their favor for the upcoming season. One of them (Draconus) came to me during a peyote induced hallucination this past weekend, telling me that I must take a vow of celibacy from spring training till the end of the regular season if I am to acquire their assistance in dominating ALL of my leagues. To say the decision was difficult would be the understatement of the millennium, but after speaking with my agent and numerous lovers on the subject, the answer became clearer than the Saran rap I use as a backup when I run out of dental dams. Yes, the only men and women I’ll be servicing this year are you, the readers. Prepare yourself, for we will be traveling to uncharted depths of fantasy baseball analysis as well as unearthing the true reasoning for the disgraceful fall-offs of Nicolas Cage, Stephen Dorff, and of course, Christian Slater.

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

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings! I’m back, better than ever. I’m top of my game, even them country boys saying “Beddict, we feelin’ ya maaaaayne.” My previous week has been spent scouring the internet, attempting to penetrate the brains of each and every player-ranking “expert” on the planet. What I found out is this…I absolutely adore the shortstop position this year! Say one thing for Beddict, he’s a lover. I know, I know, they can’t all have great seasons. You’ve got to be realistic about these things. But still, I’m fairly high on 12-16 shortstops this season and it will more than likely be a position I wait on in the draft. We have much to discuss, so let’s jump right in.

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

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Hey girls and boys….Did you miss me? I know I’ve been eeeextra naughty by not posting these past two weeks, but don’t worry, Sky already spanked me for it. It’s that time of year again: Valentines day…And mmmmmmm, is there anything on this earth more aphrodisiaciscal than fantasy baseball? Hard, smooth wood demolishing it’s target, over and over and over and over again. Balls smacking against that tight, sweet smelling, worn in pouch. Jockstraps…..errrr, let’s move on. I adore Valentines day!

I’ve received a bounty of extravagant V-day gifts over the years: a Burberry scarf from Grey, Daffodils from Sky, the Bill James collection from Rudy, Special K from J-FOH, gerbils from Richard Gere, a gasmask from Smokey, a microphone from Capozzi (or was that a butt plug?), a Padres onesie from Jay, some sweet Boston rap tunes from Lipshitz, every Nicolas Cage film ever made on laserdisc from Seth, shoot, even Jennifer gave me something once, but that’s just between her and I.

Each week, I will continue to give you some players at each position, I feel are underrated and some I know in the depths of my massive heart, will let us down more so than Emilio Estevez did with D3: The Mighty Ducks, and that my friends is tragic. I am Tehol Beddict, and this is, Disgrace/Delight! Take Heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings! Welcome back, friends. As I noted last week, I will be hitting every position group over the next couple months of both players I believe will let us down and those who shall lead us to glory,  with this week’s post focusing on First Basemen.

It’s nice to be back in a rhythm after I took a two-week sabbatical, living in the Batu Caves of Malaysia along with my chicken Beatrice. Malaysia was spectacular, but my real passion is my hobby: Fantasy Baseball! I could have lived out the rest of my days in those caves, roasting white-handed gibbons wrapped in King Cobra slices over the fire, while treating female tourists I’ve just bedded to stories about my dangerous and scandalous past on how I went from a male thong model to a fantasy sports writer for the greatest website every made…buuuuuut, I felt I had more to give this world before I disappear for good, so I come to you now, ready and willing to do my utmost to entertain you and maybe even help you with your fantasy baseball team. I am Tehol Beddict, and this is Disgrace/Delight! Take Heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Ughhhhh, is it the playoffs yet? Why does this year seem to be taking longer than ever before? Maybe it’s because I’m in only free leagues this year and I feel like I’m having my back blown out by my boy, Mandingo (google him, NSFW), in each and every one of them. I was graciously offered the opportunity to relinquish my fantasy baseball posts in order to give 100 percent of my focus on the football side of things as we are ramping up for America’s new favorite pastime. I thought to myself, “Beddict, you have a life; chickens to feed, male thong ads to shoot, and an endless supply of women to satisfy, therefore none could truly blame you for focusing all your efforts into football. It’s not your fault Bryce Harper is a tool and Ryne Sandberg is the worst manager in baseball. MOST of your other advice has worked out splendidly. You’ve done enough…..” FEAR NOT, my friends, for the day I walk away from writing for baseball is the day Grey and Rudy show up at my immaculate abode, Chinese finger trap my bottom b*tch, film it, stomp me out afterward, and take back my framed Razzball certificate of employment. I know for a fact that I have at least TWO readers who enjoy these posts and I absolutely refuse to let them down as Nicolas Cage has his fans with his seemingly endless supply of duds. Yes, these next few weeks shall be permeated with more Beddict than ever before, covering both baseball and football, and that, my friends, is what’s known as a “Tehol Twofer.” That term is ordinarily reserved for when I sexually pulverize two women, back to back, but I believe this was newsworthy enough to borrow the term, though I’m borrowing it from myself, so I suppose it doesn’t matter. ANYWAY, let’s hop right in. I missed some action due to the fact I was reeling in Tyee’s up in Canada, but per usual, I’ll be giving it 110 percent. This is, Disgrace/Delight.

Please, blog, may I have some more?