Transmission: Week Two

Agent: Jacques le Jacques
a.k.a. Ze French Tickler

Sacrebleu! I must surrender already. These Americans are inhibiting my abilities to be a functional combatant through ze use of corn whiskey, loud noises, and this beverage they call “Narragansett.” Ze first week was consumed by a haze of attempted sobering-up through showering, naps and crass American foods before succumbing to ze E&O. Such a disgusting culture! Pfew. I scoff loudly at them. Not having a game — and using more subversive measures of attackÑthis week I cleverly disguised myself as what is called “drunk hipster trash” and have inundated their culture to analyze their patterns.

Stop.

Holy Rollers v. BSR: In ze first battle, ze team of religious oppressors took ze field against ze mysterious BSR team whose theme I can only describe as “red.” While it initially seemed promising for ze BSR squad, ze Rollers quickly usurped momentum and ran up the score. With the power of God protecting injured players, Glenn Danzig Jesus, and various Mormon types, ze game was pretty much over before getting deep into ze action. After claiming a large lead, ze defensive abilities of Ze Rollers proved effective, grasping ze ’dillos kicks firmly, yet lovingly, like supple young … nevermind. Ze joke is just too easy.

Stop.

Scurvy Dogs V. UGGH: In ze second battle, a phalanx of various Gods, Goddesses, and executed figures from history took to ze field against ze Scurvy Dogs. A tight game until the end, good base running and key catches by ze Dogs ended up being the clinching factor. Ze game was neck and neck through ze fourth, when ze dogs got their land-legs back and pitcher William Wallace was drawn and quartered by repeated fielding blunders. So much for ze Dionysian celebration, ze swill is flowing at ze Green ba… Westminst… ze Dog. Still, too easy. Zut!

Stop.

Zomboree V. Plantains: Ze third battle frightens me so for ze safety of our people. I suggest surrendering. Ze Americans, despite their awful education in ze sciences, not only harnessed ze ability to utilize zombies for kickball glory, but have built a secret weapon known only as “mad dog.” They appear to have contracted him to ze team of Cuban socialist revolutionaries as part some secret post-Cold War deal involving cigars, conga and Elian Gonzalez. This is where it becomes confusing. So much blood, so much gratuitous diving and sliding… sacrebleu! Was it hubris flying? Or fruit? Or beer into mon stomach? I know not. Who won zis game anyways? Oh. Zombies. Heartily. Bof!

Stop.

CBP V. St Sebastians: Ze final battle, while entertaining, I have gathered little information on. Something about ze combonation of “old” and “sober” made me so very tired, as though I’d worked a five hour day at ze café with no union strike. Libations, plus sprawling on ze lawn chair, took me out of contention. Je suis d’solé.

Hopefully more intel in ze next transmission. Au Revoir!
– J le J

P.S. once again, fuck Norway.