Den Cotton

OK, Lima Bean posse, this is where I openly rant about anything and everything affecting our general mental health diet. We’ll call it Organic Sports Therapy…

Grocery bagger guy: I don’t need a bag for a banana dude! And I won’t feed your bagging addiction. Stop being such bagwhores. Baggers everywhere, grocery and retail: Please stop bagging my one item!!! This includes hand fruit, toothpaste, and condoms… maybe I want to put it on my banana in the store. And no, I don’t want my milk in the f#!&ing bag!!! I am protesting your invasive baggery by purchasing two cloth bags. I’m taking my manpurses to all your little shops, buying a tiny item from each of you, and then asking you to put it in my gigantic sack.

Cubs fan: Even though you guys are probably doomed to choke this year, quit whining every time the Cubs drop a ball game. You’ll have plenty of time to whine in October. So for now, leave that up to Cardinal fan who is boo-hooing about injuries, and all the Cards that are with the Cubbies now. If nothing else, just let Sweet Lou shoulder your frustration by going on some kind of crazy press conference tirade; he’d be good at that. It apparently works for Ozzie next door — so just go with it and you’ll put together another nice little streak, making your manager look like some kind of mad genius with coprolalia disorder, who shags blowup dolls.

Boston: Please no more damn contrived drama from any of your teams. You want attention… we get the picture… bloody socks, walking boots, knee knocks… I could go on. If somehow the Bruins make it to the Stanley Cup Finals next year, we don’t want to hear about a miraculous two-day turnaround from any player who had an artery severed by a skate. Enough is enough!

Jesus fish guy: No more damn Jesus bumper stickers on your car dude! Look, Jesus shouldn’t be pimped out on your ride or your license plate. Jesus is suing someone’s ass for trademark infringement and unlicensed use of the chosen one’s name—if they miraculously get to heaven.

Nascar: Stop praying before every race (also see above). When your fans are throwing up in the bathroom on their Dale Jr. t-shirts during lap 156, God is not listening.

Cedric Benson: Please do not enroll in flight school.

Grocery store produce guy: We’re out of fresh lima beans.

“The catcher hits for .318 and catches every day
The pitcher puts religion first and rests on holidays
He goes into cathedrals and lies prostrate on the floor
He knows the drink affects his speed, he’s praying for
a doorway
Back into the life he wants and the confession of the bench
Life outside the diamond is a wrench”

–Belle and Sebastian (Piazza, New York Catcher)

I’m not saying you’re not a vegetarian Prince Fielder, but I just don’t know a lot of 5′11″, 260 pound non-carnivores. I’ve been eating mostly vegetarian fare for the last couple of years, and I think you’re trying to pull the lima beans over my eyes.

I saw you play against the Cubs earlier this season, and I think you might have eaten a couple of vegetarians in between innings; that’s not vegetarianism, no matter how many bleeding-heart animal lovers you have swallowed up in Milwaukee. I’ve been there, and I’m willing to bet you could order wiener schnitzel soy milk.

How do I really know if your home run production plummeted because you went veggie — or if you stopped taking human growth hormone?

Sweet Jesus, you didn’t see Andy Pettitte go veggie in the effort to cover his tracks. He took the easy way out and just asked help from the Lord.

I know you apparently read this veggie book you got from your wife. But just because I read a book about body building, I don’t go around telling every poor schmuck I meet that I’m Arnold Schwarzenegger. “Yeah, Den, what have you been lifting? Your feet off the ground? Good one half-pint.” They just wouldn’t believe me, ya know?

I’m sure you spend a lot of time in the dugout eating sunflower seeds, but you just can’t put them in a bowl of ice cream. Sure, I guess that’s technically not eating meat. I just think you probably need to eat a couple of green beans to qualify for veggie status.

I wouldn’t doubt if Brian McNamee is injecting you guys with tree leaves. It’s not detectable by Major League Baseball yet, although giraffes can smell you a mile away. Maybe that is why Congress was asking Roger Clemens if he was a vegan earlier this year? Because you guys are so paper-thin now, and God knows Clemens looks like he’s been eating 20 years worth of black bean hummus. Good work Congress; that’s what we pay you for; your investigative reporting is on steroids. Last time I checked, Roger Clemens weighed in at 235, apparently overindulging in a strict diet of tofurkey and greek tempeh pitas?

Anything is possible I guess, since I read an internet article recently, suggesting soy is making kids gay and fat. Congress can go ahead and keep thinking Clemens is a vegan, but I think we all know he is not gay. Next season, I can’t wait for Prince to announce he wants to have sex with vegan men. His wife will definitely take that book away and cook up a fat steak.

I just don’t know what to believe any more. Next thing I know, every player on the Chicago White Sox, including manager Ozzie Guillen, is claiming they don’t like to have sex with Synthetic Cindy in the clubhouse.

Maybe we’ll see a trimmer Prince next season, who knows? But I think we need to cut you open and see if there are any license plates or old tires in there; and so I can get my left arm back.

Soy bomb.

Politics can be a lot like sports, but not nearly enough — as far as I’m concerned — when it comes to hiring and firing of the people who manage the land; your land; my land.

When someone isn’t getting the job done in baseball — batting average dropping below .200 — they usually get benched or traded. If you’re a star, it’s a different story — because then, you have already proven yourself, people trust you, and you have respect. Slumps happen, and you’ll probably bounce back. Otherwise, we’ll see you in the minors — or perhaps your career is just over.

When it comes to politics — the commander in chief specifically, the general manager — we have to endure the strikeouts in the clutch for four consecutive years unless someone is, of course, “not a crook.” And sometimes you might get fired for just being involved in a scandal of Lewinskian proportions. Which makes me wonder if Bill Clinton was using performance-enhancing drugs.

So what if we could trade George W. Bush to another nation?

See, the problem is we could only release him, because chances are, we couldn’t get any draft picks, cash, or governors to be named later. Most civilized countries just wouldn’t come to the table on it. Well, we could probably get that loose cannon from North Korea I guess. But we’re not in the business of even trades at the moment.

Perhaps we could demote Bush instead?

“Look Dubya, they need a mayor back down in Salome, West Texas.” (Everyone keep it quiet that Salome is a fictional town from the movie Tin Cup. )

No wait, I change my mind. We should be able to fire him in the middle of the season — just like big league managers. “Sorry, G.W., but our country is 27 games out of first place … we need to bring in someone fresh to tinker with the lineup.”

Bush’s run in the White House is worse than the Cubs; he’s not even lovable.

We all need to find our inner Steinbrenner — just clean house every once in a while — and be totally hostile in putting together a better team, no matter what it takes. Sure, the Steinbrenners are meddlesome — perhaps a little misguided — but at least passionate about the team.

New Yorkers are the perfect protesters. They don’t put up with a debacle whether it’s a point guard, head coach, manager or president. You think Isiah Thomas could possibly come back for one more term after the years he had? Joe Torre got canned for making the playoffs 12 straight seasons.

That’s the problem with us as Americans. We’re not vocal enough when it comes to politics; we’re the owners, remember? So let’s go out and hire Theo Epstein away from the Red Sox and maybe we can end the curse of the “Dumbino.” Until then, I guess we’ll just sit around having profanity-laced tirades that only Ozzie Guillen and Lee Elia could muster during a bad streak.

While there are a few devoted American patriots, there aren’t nearly enough carrying the “Fire Bush” signs at home games in Washington. I guess most of us can’t afford the gas to get up there — or perhaps are out of the country dodging car bombs.

I’m Den Cotton and I approve this message.

“Dissent is the highest form of patriotism”

– Howard Zinn