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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?

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?

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?