LOGIN

Greetings! Ahhh, memories, this title brings me back to my childhood where I grew up in Bishop Eddie Lamont’s house for boys, raised and praised as his adopted son. It was only later I discovered I was the heir to House Beddict, when I reconnected with my birth parents. Met my father in rehab, actually. Funny story. I learned we both share a weakness for mule-ass’d women and peyote. A tale for another time, my goodmen. A tale for another time…

What I’m really here for, as I pound away on my keyboard in what seems to be the most barbarian rain/lightening/thunderstorm I’ve ever experienced, is to give praises of the highest order to Philadelphia’s most promising young male since Will Smith. Philly management, the parents if you will, just don’t understand, and they thought it was a good idea to move him to the bench, where he wouldn’t cause any trouble, and the great Howard Kendrick would take his place. We know how Will Smith’s story concluded, as he made it big in L.A. after grinding at the Peacock for years, taking down countless honeys, and delivering more one-liners than Stephen Dorff in a Las Vegas nightclub bathroom.

Altherr has seemingly responded much in the same fashion, as he has continuously made rice cakes out of baseballs, mushing three balls out of the ballpark and swiping a couple bags to boot. Trying to find answers for as to why a rebuilding team wouldn’t give the starting job to one of their young, exciting players reaches far beyond the reaches of my intellect. They’d rather sign a soon to be 34-year-old, former second baseman, who hit .255 with EIGHT homers last season to help carry them to the a surprise title? I’m seriously confused… and offended… angry even. Altherr’s BABIP sits at a mind-humping .417, which obviously will most definitely not continue, BUT I still expect Altherr to have a very productive season, where 15-15 is well within reach. Say one thing for Aaron Altherr, say he’s earned my respect. He’s also earned my trust but if I said that, then, well then it would be two things.

Here’s what else is weighing heavily on my mind… Take Heed!

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Long ago, when I was but a young boy, I would decipher Matthew Berry articles on ESPN, strategizing for my fantasy baseball draft with all my closest associates, writhing in anticipation. Soaked like I was just urinated on by a large pack of giraffes, waking up from dreams soaked in sweat, I wasn’t sure if this was all real or not. Did I really help cover up the murder of a stripper last night? Did I sleep with Anna-Nicole Smith? Isn’t she dead? I just adored fantasy baseball! Anyway, this went on for a few years until a grand man by the name of Josephine Morris told me of a certain gentleman, a mustached little man who curiously resembled Don Mattingly. Josephine told me:

“You, Tehol, my closest and must trusted friend, have mastered fantasy baseball. That is, mastered it against peasants like our peanut-brained friends… but if you want to go to another level of metaphysical wizardry, well, then you must go to a a little place where the beer flows like wine and the seagulls flock like the salmon of Capistrano… a little place called… Razzball.com…”

The rest is history. But now you know there was a man named Grey Albright and he saved me… in every way a person can be saved.

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?