Today’s Tribune tells us that Barry Bonds will be spreading his sunshine for at least one more season with the SF Giants. The final graf of the story relates this gem:
“Baseball fans around the world owe Barry Bonds a debt of gratitude for being lucky enough to watch him play,” Borris recently told ESPN.com’s Amy Nelson.
It bodes wells that Bonds and his agent are apparently cut from the same cloth. I can’t imagine Kofi Annan having as firm a grasp on the psyche of the world at this moment in history. We do indeed live in heroic times. You can probably send your gifts and homemade jams to Barry in care of the Giants. Maybe we can start a line of greeting cards so that Barry can know how much he means to all of us.
Cover: “Because you make the world a better place, I’d be happy to do you a favor….”
Inside: “How many cups of pee do you need?”
Or some nice doggerel:
A colossal slugger named Barry
Had an outlook cheerful and merry,
Til you ask if his muscles
Come from workout room hustle,
Then he’ll threaten to rip your arms off and shove them up your ass because you’re always picking on him.
There once was a guy down the pike
Who was blacker than Andy Van Slyke.
He hits like Babe Ruth,
But to tell you the truth,
There’s little ’bout Barry to like.
Took the best chemicals that man could make
Because a prized record he wanted to break
But too many injections
Led to so much rejection
And thus Barry’s been labeled a fake
There once was a slugger most surly,
Whose build was suspiciously burly.
But when cut off last year
From his cream and his clear,
He hit like a miserable girly.
With Barry Bonds back in the game,
He can begin to revive his good name
By dodging the press
‘Bout the big BALCOR mess
And looking for teammates to frame.
Bud Selig won’t say if he’ll go
When Bonds has his really big show
And sets the new mark
For hits out of the park,
‘Cuz the commish ain’t a man to eat crow.
(thanks to Stu Shea for help on the above)
And one for the defenders of Barry:
Now, everyone knows it’s legit
When Barry Bonds strokes out a hit.
It ain’t no shot in the rear
With the cream or the clear.
It’s…genes and….hard work and…like, that shit.
This from Stu’s brother Tom:
O, his blood is clean as a geranium!
Here’s how Barry Bonds fills every stadium:
Weight work in the off-season
‘S the sole, simple reason
For his huge, massive, 90-pound cranium.
Thanks for working in a reference to his big giant head!!
And this from Lou Carlozo:
There once was a hitter named Barry
Who mouthed off at each Tom, Dick and Harry
No one could explain
Til the steroids made plain
That his brian synapse “bonds” had gone hairy
From Doug White:
Barry Bonds wanted so badly
To be just a little more manly
And hit the ball higher
Than Mark fucking McGwire
Now no one remembers him fondly
From Jim Powers, the grossest entry so far:
Though Bonds swings a bat with great speed
He calls juice accusations hackneyed
What fun is to hit?
I don’t give a shit
I prefer sliding on slick shoulders acne’d
And at last, from Lou Carlozo, who has spent a lot of time, apparently, contemplating aluminum bats:
Despite Barry Bonds’ many homers
It appears that his body’s a loaner
For his steroid technique
Birthed an android’s physique:
An aluminum bat for a boner.