I'm back home in Huntsville, AL for the week. Tonight I went out with my parents to a good ‘ol Huntsville Stars Double-A baseball game. Remember back in 1986 when Mark McGwire slugged for the Stars as a rookie?

Of course you don't, you don't know shit about baseball. And for that, I admire you. But I still hate the game much more than you do.

Ironically, I don't mind watching games in person though. I think the laidback, beer-drinking atmosphere, time-honored traditions (the National Anthem, the BC Powder Bag Toss, the little kids racing the bases against a mascot, Sweet Home Alabama during the seventh inning stretch, Take Me Out to the Ball Game, scoreboard trivia, tonight's attendance contest, and of course, Kiss Cam), well-manicured grass, and redneck hecklers keep me coming back for more every time.

Tonight's game was a special treat though: Thirsty Thursdays.

I've decided that Thirsty Thursday at a Huntsville Stars baseball game is the only time I've ever been happier to see other people drink more beer than me. A lot of people enjoy taking a mild break from drunkenness to watch their friends get hammered and do stupid things. Not me. I'm either the spectacle or trying to drink my way to it.

Not Thirsty Thursdays though. Please feed these rednecks AS MANY $1 COORS LIGHTS AS POSSIBLE, because you will never hear anything funnier than the random insulting bullshit that comes spewing out of their yokel-tuned mouths for everyone in a 500-yard stadium radius to hear. And in case you're not familiar with Double-A baseball, 500 yards basically stretches from the nearest cheap seats to 2nd base. Which means these bumpkins can still get a seat, a raging buzz, and an audience of 1000 (plus players, umpires, and coaches) for under $20. That's a better steal than third base.

So what exactly did I hear?

Standard things: (To a batter whiffing fastballs) “If ya can't stand the heat, get outta the kitchen!!”

Curious things: (To the pitcher) “You couldn't toss a log off a 10-foot pole if it had a handle!!!”

Romantic things: (To a conversing 3rd baseman and pitcher) “Whaddya do ask him out on a date?! We don't have time to watch you two choke each other's donkeys!!”

Appropriate things: (To the pitcher) “You couldn't hit the side of a barn with a tractor!!”

Ironic things: (To a stocky batter who just struck out) “Get this cornfed hillbilly off the cotton field!!!”

Oops things: (To a batter on deck) “Hey 34, I played baseball with you in middle school and you were NOTHING! You hear me, NOTHING!!!” To which the batter on deck replied, “Yeah, that's why I'm down here and you're up there.” To which the redneck had no comeback ready.

But the best heckling came after the redneck chants started dying down in the bottom of the 7th inning (assumingly after the rednecks started passing out). Two preppy-looking kids of about 18 walked up to the railing right in front of the opposing team's batter's deck…also about 10 feet in front of me. They were carrying what can only be described as a GIANT ICE DILDO, about 2 ft long and 10 inches in girth.

Now, where they got this thing in the middle of summer, and how it managed not to melt in 90-degree heat by the bottom of the 7th inning, I have no idea. But these kids knew how to use it…for heckling at least (who knows what else they used it for). They stood it up on the concrete rail and leaned it towards the field against the backnet, about 10 feet from the current on-deck batter from the other team. Then they proceeded to use the following lines on each new player, in a soft, seductive voice meant only for their own amusement (a large part of my admiration for their comedy):

“Hey, you. I know you see this. (Giant ice dildo stares batter in the face.) Hey, 24, you can't miss this thing, it's huge. Look at it. Come on, it's calling your name. (Gentle ice stroking begins.) Mmmmmm, 24, I just want you to know this will be waiting for you when you get done at the plate. I know you'll hurry back, you can't keep it off your mind, it's huge. Just look at it. Please? It's so icy and big and delicious. Look, it's melting in my hand. It burns for you. Stop swinging for a second and just stare it in the eye. 24, LOOK. IT'S SOOO HUGE AND WET. (On-deck batter's turn to bat.) Ok, well tell your boyfriend at first base that he left his toy over here. It'll be waiting for you two in the dugout when you're done.”

By the second sentence, I couldn't hold back. I just laughed continuously while these kids stood 10 feet away taunting these guys over and over and over with the exact same routine. The repetition made it even funnier, because they always started out with each new batter like it was their first time saying it, and the next victim had no idea about the previous guy, because you couldn't see the kids from the dugout. I thought at any minute one of the batters would step over and bat that thing right into their faces, piercing their skulls with shards of ice penis. If you would've seen how big it was, you might've been that insulted too.

Then all of a sudden it fell off the rail and broke in half, to the boys' collective comedic despair, and my stomach's relief. I guess it's just not the same heckling batters with a 1 ft ice dildo.

The game ended up being 4 hours long, and we lost 19-15, the 2nd highest score total ever in the history of Double-A baseball. I'm positive it was fueled by the redneck beer fumes.

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