Freddogg Off The Chain

Grim Reaper Hockey mask. In the words of Jessica Simpson,"I don't know what it means but I want it."

The Atlantic Porcupine Puffer Fish kills quickly but it will take minutes before the gates of heaven open because everyone in receiving will be laughing what used to be thier asses all the way off because to be terminated by a porcupine puffer fish is just stupid funny in any dimension



"The grella put the baby porkypine in the inkabaiter." Philly boy science.

I am a journalist and columnist for the last 25 years. My weekly column 'People in Sports' has not missed a week in all that time and over the last four years it has run twice a week. But I don’t do 'Year in Review' pieces because I honestly can’t remember what happened and anyway it already happened and as my grandmother Rose told me, ”Those who study history are condemned to remember it.”

Most yearly reflections look back at who died and what fun is that? As John Prine wrote, ”I never will remember what I never did forget.” I once mentioned all the students of mine who had passed since I was already 30 and the number approached 60. I did it in an Easter column with the idea or rebirth and eteranal spiritual hang around and never forgetting because to remember is a good thing. I can pull those names out of my head year by year because I never did forget those people. However, I’ve been known to screw up a name about once a week so I did send a soul to the far side who was actually alive and well.

I found out from her mother who told me at a baseball game that she had gotten a few calls because Fredman had harvested her daughter to work in Saint Michael’s garden. I was fortunate that the mother was way cool and laughed saying in effect “everyone knows you and knows you are capable of getting the living and the dead mixed up on your lineup card.”

Happy New Year and Glad you are still here—or not!

Father Freddogg

Those who have followed this blog know that I lost a Temple teammate named John over the summer and only found out about it when another teammate named Rudy in the throes of a late night drunken depression wrote to me and said I was an asshole for continuing to send my funny ramblings to a dead friend. I wrote back and said “he was the asshole and that my dead friend could speak for himself.”