Today is the day to give bad advice.

My pal Andy Ross has the chance of appearing on the Ellen Degeneres show with his standup comedy, if only you vote for him in this standup contest.

Anyway, today, let me introduce my pal and fellow blogger Chris Monks. He is a Boston Red Sox fan, and before the Red Sox/White Sox series last week, we made a friendly wager that whichever team lost, the non-winning fan would write something positive about the other team for the winning fan's site. Thanks to him for being a good sport.

I come to you today to hail the Chicago White Sox. They haven't won it all since 1917, but this year's version can pitch, hit, run, field, cook, clean, and serve you up for breakfast. My advice for dealing with them is to drop everything and run like hell to your mama.

Last week the White Sox took my Boston Red Sox out to the shed and beat the silly out of them. I didn't think they would, but they did. I'm man enough to admit it. A lot of men aren't, but I am. I am a big man who tells it like it is. I have size 12 feet and the ChiSox were better than the BoSox. It hurts to write that, especially on a White Sox fan's blog, but there's no use crying over spilled milk because you can lead a horse to water yet you can't make it stitch in nine to save time. Or something.

What I'm trying to say is that regardless of how many White Sox players don't believe in dinosaurs, you better run like hell to your mama or else they will take you to the shed and beat the silly out of you. No one should have to suffer like my Red Sox suffered. So run already. Run and bury your face in your mama's lap and take solace in the fact that this is America and if you want to believe in dinosaurs nobody can stop you, shed-beating or no shed-beating.

I've always liked dinosaurs. They strike me as large and funny creatures. Some of them are pretty funny-looking what with their beaks and waddling and whatnot. No, wait; I'm thinking of penguins. Penguins are different from dinosaurs. My bad. Penguins are great, though. Talk about being funny: penguins are downright silly. They have more silly than they know what to do with. I bet the White Sox would love to take them out to the shed and beat all that silly out of them. Still, beating penguins in a shed is wrong, and the White Sox should be ashamed of themselves.

That's why I got rid of my shed this weekend, actually. I'm not a penguin, but sometimes I like to dress up as one and I fear there would be tragic mix-up should the White Sox pop in for a visit. Not having a shed in my backyard anymore greatly decreases the chance of the White Sox beating the silly out of me. I suppose if they brought some tools and lumber they could build a new shed and then proceed to
beat the silly out of me, but I don't really think they have time for all that. The White Sox have other more important things on their to-do list, like taking the Angels out to their shed and beating the silly out of them. Incidentally, I understand that Bartolo Colon is a huge dinosaur nut, so it will be fun watching him run like hell to his mama.

In conclusion, I'd like to congratulate Claire for winning our bet. Even though my feet are much bigger than hers, she won fair and square. Her victory has taught me many things, like how to win gracefully and to never underestimate the wonder that is a shirtless Paul Konerko. So go Pale Hose! May they deliver the shed-beating of all shed-beatings on the Los Angeles Pansies of Anaheim. Dinosaurs and 1917, be damned!

Image via this site.