Archive for Cistulli. F__k that guy.

Keep Cistulli Out! Another NotGraphs Abuse Of The Democratic Process (Updated)

I have, to varying degrees, taken to poo-pooing the democratic process on this site over the last two years. My point, to the extent I have one, is not that we should heavily invest additional power in the hands of those that already have so much, as it is that the majority generally sucks and really likes to do shitty things to the minority.

Nevertheless, there is a benefit to living in a country that encourages its lowly plebs to participate in the governmental process, and that is that we can make our voices heard. We can build consensus, and with a strong voice we can tell our leaders, in no uncertain terms, how to make this country stronger, better, and more fair.

To this end, I ask you to please get involved with a project that is very close to my heart. This summer, NotGraphs “editor” and general ne’er-do-well Carson Cistulli voluntarily left this country of his own free will and moved his entire life (which fit into two sensibly-sized suitcases, from what I understand) to the Paris, Texas of France, Paris, France. In the days since his ouster, America has learned to hope again. Now, Carson Cistulli wants to come back.

This ragamuffin of a man and all-around dirty person believes that, just because he has a passport and is a legal U.S. citizen, he should be allowed to again traipse his muddy feet across America’s fine white carpets, which we just got done cleaning. He wants to drag his whimsy and his obscure references and his drinking problem back to our doorstep, and he expects to be let in.

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Assigning Nicknames to Select NotGraphs Contributors

In the service of tabling more pressing obligations, I present to you a smattering of nicknames that would be applied to the following NotGraphs contributors, were their skills and essences — such as they are — applied to the playing of this, our baseball, rather than to the befouling of it.

Please regard:

– Michael Bates: “Vicious Delicious”
– Eno Sarris: “Pol Pot the Pederast”
– Bradley Woodrum: “Hound Pastor”
– David G. Temple: “Bible Made of Lasers”
– Carson Cistulli: “Heart Cancer”
– Robert J. Baumann: “If Wizards Were a Gender Unto Themselves”
– Mississippi Matt Smith: “Poo That Smells Like Boogers; Boogers That Smell Like Poo”
– Zach Reynolds: “Fred Brown”
– Patrick Dubuque: “Glum, Confounded Chicken”
– Navin Vaswani: “Sack”

I encourage the readers — both of you — to nominate your own nicknames for the Moron of the High Plains who authored this dumb post.


Indolence Donnybrook: Your Move, Cistulli

You’ll recall that recently in this space, Chuckles Cistulli took occasion to mock my yeoman’s toil by posting a crudely altered image of Babe Ruth. According to foul-smelling Cistulli, his outputs constituted the depth and breadth of Internet-based half-assedness. Since that moment, I’ve been oiling my guns for war.

And now I’m here to escalate this Indolence Donnybrook by posting a picture of a goblin shark that’s been altered in only one shiftless regard: I added — in the default font, no less — the career triple-slash of Garth Iorg …

I Could Scarcely Be Bothered

After posting this, I ambled yawning to the ice box to retrieve some milk and wound up falling asleep in the crisper. I’m still in there. It’s cold but not cold enough to rouse me from my idiot’s doze.


Boughten: Hiroshima Carp Shirt

“Cistulli,” I said. “How do you like my new Hiroshima Carp fashion t-shirt?”

Cistulli's hatred of others

“Bah,” sniffed Cistulli. “I am a proud and relentless Occidental. I care not for those at the poo end of the spice-trade routes. They are beneath me. Literally. For look at this elderly Japanese man ‘neath my boot-heel.”

I noticed that there was indeed a elderly Japanese man struggling and purpling over underneath Cistulli’s awful stilettos.

“But Cistulli,” I said. “The Japanese play a unique and compelling brand of baseball. Surely you would agree that, considering our game’s global reach, talents from the Pacific Rim will continue to enrich the U.S. major leagues.”

“For God and country,” he whispered as he increased the pressure on the windpipe of the elderly Japanese man to the point of death and then beyond that point. “Now, that’s better.”

“Cistulli,” I said. “Look at the Carp’s logo. Is it not pleasing whimsy? Is it not prepossessing in its use of fractals?”

“To piping-hot hell with the lot of them,” sniffed Cistulli. “Foreordination favors those who look like brawny and alabaster me!”

Then he ravished me.


It Is Not Tax Day, Cistulli; It Is Jackie Robinson Day

Jackie Taxes

“April 15 approaches,” I said. “That is Jackie Robinson Day!”

“It is no such thing,” sniffed Cistulli. “It is Tax Day. Tax Day is when monies are seized for purposes of providing Al Qaeda with fresh breast milk and access to Head Start Programs. It is good that this is done because I prefer Al Qaeda to Jackie Robinson. Hail Satan. Praise be to Al Qaeda.”

“But, Cistulli,” I implored. “Jackie Robinson was a man of immense courage, dignity and historical import. How can you say such things?!”

“He was not,” Cistulli sniffed. “He was scarcely a man. I am a man. Look at this enemy-combatant chest hair ‘neath my radical’s tunic. Quislings unite! Jackie Robinson is someone I actively disrespect!”

“Cistulli, I must object–”

Then he ravished me.

But I — I! — created a NotGraphs category called “Cistulli. F__k that guy.”

Happy Jackie Robinson Day, everyone but Cistulli.


Boughten: Bad-Ass Clemente T-Shirt

I bought a t-shirt today …

“Mr. Roberto Clemente!” I said upon purchase. “One must certainly respect the great Mr. Roberto Clemente!”

“One must certainly not,” sniffed Cistulli, who, unbeknownst to me, had been lurking behind a potted palm the entire time. “And his name is not ‘Mr. Clemente.’ His name is ‘Bobo Clementines.’ The honorific is reserved for men of honor. Bobo Clementines is a mewling baby coward.”

“How can you say such things?” I gasped.

“Charity is vice,” sniffed Cistulli. “Death is weakness. I do not respect Bobo Clementines.”

Then he ravished me.