The OFFICIAL Unofficial Achewood Message Board
Achewood => Achewood => Topic started by: iron_felix on April 24, 2007, 06:24:43 pm
-
That's Roast Beef. I know him. (http://www.achewood.com/index.php?date=04242007)
Ray is down with Beef's "Boy in the Plastic Bubble" idea. But how will he run the bases? I guess he could just be first base coach when his side is at bat. All giving signs with his baby incubator arms. All touching different parts of the bubble to signal a hit-and-run.
-
I like the fact that Onstad was clearly angling for a thread title by throwing us "Don't do a groody mouth!" and you totally snubbed that bitch.
-
Serves him right. I guess I'm still a bit miffed over that Achewood assetbar foolishness. Anyway, this strip is really all about how well Ray knows his oldest of friends. Although upon rereading it I suppose it is just as much about Beef sassing him.
I did consider going with "I knew your mom was a bitch but I didn't know she had a puppy," but I'm not sure whether that would fit or not.
-
Absolutely correct thread title.
I don't know much about softball but couldn't Beef be the catcher in that kind of outfit? It might almost be a good idea.
-
I just really dig the idea of "bags under the eyes" being the artistic signifier for a dude in sunglasses being stoned. That is some elegant shit right there.
-
All pitches in slow pitch are basically eephus pitches (http://www.thebaseballpage.com/features/2000/eephus.htm), so the catcher just stands behind the plate and catches them on the bounce. There's no bunting allowed, so you rarely have to field a ball once it's in play. In theory, you would also cover home plate, but I don't think I've ever seen a close play at home in a slow pitch softball game.
So yes, it would be an ideal position for Beef, although as the only non-stoned person on the team he might wind up having to pitch instead. Pitching would appear to be the main obstacle to getting this idea to work, unless you could somehow get Dock Ellis to play for you.
-
Hmm, so it sounds like basically, softball is already designed to be baseball for stoned people?
-
Softball, as played by people who are otherwise employed (not by studly college age females), is mostly a set-up for guys with enormous guts to hit towering home runs. And for the rest of us to finally "get" the various base covering plays that our little league coaches were desperately trying to communicate to us while we chased honeybees in the outfield clover.
-
damn, why have I not played this sport.
-
I did consider going with "I knew your mom was a bitch but I didn't know she had a puppy," but I'm not sure whether that would fit or not.
That would also have been an excellent choice.
Anyway, can I just applaud Onstad for actually drawing the BBQer-in-a-Bubble apparatus? I was totally expecting this to be one of those cop-out strips where concepts are discussed but not drawn, and instead, yes, an awesome little apparatus!
-
I went motherfuckin' 6-for-6 in our slow pitch softball doubleheader last night. I was not stoned, however.
-
Do you have an enormous gut?
-
I played in a municipal slow-pitch league two summers ago with a bunch of people from the radio station where I used to work.
The idea was that it would be fun for people to play against "famous" radio "personalities" and that our games would be good "marketing" opportunities. Trouble is, when most of your team is a bunch of unathletic emo bitches you tend to lose games. This is more true when you play teams of the aforementioned fat dudes who wear ACTUAL UNIFORMS and who flip their slow-pitches at you with all kinds of english so it's impossible to hit them in the air.
We won one game out of eight that summer and our marketing plan was a rousing success, inasmuch as we planned to position ourselves as pale, awkward nerds who can't hit or throw but who will talk to you about bands between innings.
-
Serves him right. I guess I'm still a bit miffed over that Achewood assetbar foolishness. Anyway, this strip is really all about how well Ray knows his oldest of friends. Although upon rereading it I suppose it is just as much about Beef sassing him.
I did consider going with "I knew your mom was a bitch but I didn't know she had a puppy," but I'm not sure whether that would fit or not.
Apparently you can insult Ray's mom without it sobering him up. Unlike claiming that he was a fat child (http://achewood.com/index.php?date=04192004)
-
I think that a stoned softball league will involve no actual bat-to-ball contact. There may or may not be pitching that may or may not get close to the strike zone. The entire point of a stoned softball league will be the hot dogs on the grill. Beef's participation is key, and critical.
-
We won one game out of eight that summer and our marketing plan was a rousing success, inasmuch as we planned to position ourselves as pale, awkward nerds who can't hit or throw but who will talk to you about bands between innings.
From a marketing perspective, losing was probably exactly the right thing to do. How well are you going to like a bunch of guys who come around and kick your ass at softball? It's like losing to your boss at golf.
There are two options:
A) Those pencil-necked geeks ain't real good ball players, but they knows their music. I sure do like listening to Screwball and the Mayonnaise Man on my way to work in the morning;
OR
B) Those fuck*ng cheaty assed bastards. Spike-sliding, knuckle ball throwing, third-base stealing, Toto playing fucks! From now on, I'm stickin' with Johnnie Thang on the big Z-103 in the mornings.
While option B is clearly better for your masculine pride, option A is probably better for the ratings.
-
I for one respect a competitive spirit in my radio announcers.
-
Once upon a time, I worked for a software support outsourcer. Someone came up with the idea of having a corporate softball team. Realizing that we were all pencil necks with very little chance of being competitive, we signed up for the lowest ranked league in the area.
The "A" league contains gentlemen, who wear some form of baseball sock over tights. We were in the "D" league. Only a t-shirt with your team's name written in masking tape is required.
We started a weekly practice. I was elected pitcher, but never quite got the hang of the underhanded, has to arc above 12 feet (that seems high. I may be.) pitches.
We learned a tough lesson when the first game was played. Our co-ed team was made up of folks between 25-50 years old. Our team had "Software" in the name. Our opponent's team was comprised of 18 to 20 year olds. Their team name had "Hay" in the name.
We sat at desks and ate donuts for a living. These kids bailed hay.
It was short, bloody, and demoralizing. Each game, the entire season, was a loss to the 15 run rule.
Somewhere along the way, a pitch was returned as a line drive right into the pitching rubber. It popped up directly into my mouth and nose. I couldn't ever pitch again after that. I was assured that every last ball I threw, would in seconds be hitting me square in the face.
-
Do you have an enormous gut?
Eh, a bit of a gut, I wouldn't call it enormous. I am freakin' slow like a big slow thing, though.