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!
First basemen I expect to delight us in 2016…
Jose Abreu – Yeah, 30 homers and 100 RBI is super cool… if you’re a post-roiding Jason Giambi, but not if you’re an elephant-dong packing, home run hitting savant like Abreu. I’d be shocked, I repeat, SHOCKED, if this Cuban God doesn’t park at least 45 with 120 ribbeys in 2016. Adding Frazier to the lineup will only provide him with more protection as they morph into the new age bash brothers. We all remember Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire, back when they were injecting elephant gun sized syringes into their rippled buttocks? My goodmen, those were the days!
Lucas Duda – Reminds me of this woman I dated; We spent an eventful and meaningful summer together, with things kind of dying down like a fart in a tsunami once winter came, much like Duda’s 2015 season. Still, we had hope that we would rekindle what we once shared for the upcoming summer instead of the stagnant, missionary-sex lifestyle we had now grown accustomed to. After a few months of watching porn together, we were humping like Pit bulls, a crow bar necessary to pry me out of my precious crater, and I truly believe Duda is fully capable of regaining his 2014 form, especially with Cespedes in the lineup for the entire season.
Ryan Howard – Just kidding.
Byung-Ho Park – I was one of the few that truly believed in Jung-Ho Kang (HE WAS MY FIRST ASIAN!) translating his power over into the big leagues, and I’m not one to toot my own horn, but, please, feel free to lather my dong with Chipotle mayo and suck me from the back. I feel the same way about Ho. He’s not cho Ho, he my Ho! STEP OFF! Even with Minnesota’s ballpark being more cavernous than Lisa Ann’s butthole, I’d still expect a minimum of 25 homers and 85 RBI. I meeeeeean, he’s hitting behind or in front of Sano, the Elder blessed sultan of swat, so please, just sit back and witness history.
Anthony Rizzo – Cubs lineup is going to be filthier than Lindsay Lohan’s condo after a six month coke binge, and I fully expect Rizzo to have an MVP caliber season because of it. That’s right, I believe Rizzo should be a first round pick this season and I challenge you to say otherwise. I smell 40 dongs… not dicks, but home runs.
Adam Lind – Can you say 60 bombs and 155 RBI? Aaaaahkay, now take the square roots of those numbers and you’ll get Lind’s final season stats… That’s probably a little harsh, and hey Beddict, this is the god damned Delight section you nut-less mongrel, so what the fuzz are you doing? Sorry, I’m in a strange place in life where basically the only one I talk to is myself. I apologize. Please send more drugs. Either way, I like Lind to repeat his numbers from last season with possibly higher RBI totals if he plays every day as this Mariners lineup. Lind is highly underrated, trust me.
Chris Carter – Hmmmmm… Chris Carter in 2016 had my curiosity. Put this massive creature in Miller Park? Now you have my attention. 30 bombs, minimum.
Domonic Brown – I think, maybe, maybe if, maybe if we move him to first base he’s got a real shot, or… Never mind.
C.J. Cron – This is a guy who has 30-40 homer potential if he plays every day and there’s not many guys going late in the draft you can say that about. The Angels will need every bit of it if they plan on being anywhere close to being relevant. Their offense has gone from Leo DiCaprio to Nicolas Cage, seemingly overnight.
First baseman I expect to Disgrace us in 2016…
Freddie Freeman – This year, The Braves have a lower percentage of making the playoffs this season than a black dude does of winning an Oscar. Freeman’s power numbers have been coming up shorter than a midget at a urinal, and I for one will not be touching him anywhere near his ADP.
Adrian Gonzalez – Ranked 48th overall on ESPN… No spank you. I’m an upside guy, and this old legend is due for a down year. It seemed like he hit 20 homers the first two months of the season and then returned the doubles and singles hitter he has evolved into since they began drug testing. I’m all for value with veterans, but A-Gone is going far to high for my taste… I have exquisite taste if you were curious.
Matt Adams – Fat Splattum’s placement here is more due to his past failures than what I believe he is capable of, but it seems he’s just a platoon player at this point in time, and for a guy with this much ability, that’s more disgraceful than the fact Justin Bieber was blessed with a bigger stick than I, the Elder blessed fantasy God. Say one thing for the Biebs, say he serves these models tube steak with reckless abandon.
Thank you for joining me for my first Disgrace/Delight column of the season. I will now, like George Michael at a highway rest, be going through these groups of men at breakneck speed. Prepare yourselves, for it’s about to get funkier than a bum’s pair of drawls. Picture me trollin’ trollin’ trollin’…
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