Reposted from September 27th. Main image via @james_in_to.
New Year’s Eve preamble: the holidays are still in full swing for most, with this weird half-day being all that’s between us and another full day off before business resumes as usual Wednesday. To hold you over until then, we’ve got some seriously half-assed year in review content lined up, beginning with this gem, which was originally posted at the end of the season, when, for some reason, I had yet to realize that nobody would actually ever want to go through remembering the particulars of what the hell happened to the Jays prior to their massive off-season transformation. And now it’s updated to include the Photoshop of the year, as seen above! (Well, except maybe this one.)
We’re down to the last week of the season, and the time has come for taking a long look in the mirror– sadly not a euphemism– which means that I’ve been combing through the archives for some season-end stuff. And what better way to quickly sweep all our memories of this wretched season under the carpet than to start writing its damn epitaph early, while barely making a nod in the direction of what was actually going on with the club.
In other words: here are a bunch of shitty Photoshops I (mostly) did, starting from last October, all the way up to this month…
Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather talk about last night’s Baltimore shitcanning?
With Griff having fucked off from his mail baggin’ for weeks, I’d had it up to here with not having any reader questions to answer (and what was I going to do, get people to mail them to me?), so I went and did the next best thing, getting my fingerprints all over Gregor’s bag for a change.
Stoeten Answers Gregor Chisholm’s Mail Bag – 10/19/11
Back before any of the “consequence free” clubhouse bullshit cropped up, John Farrell had garnered himself a reputation as an intimidating, hulk of a man, who– legend had it– would have kept those imploding, chicken-eating, beer-drinking, vid game-playing motherfuckers in Boston from poisoning the well and causing the entire Masshole Nation to crumble into the ocean.
John Farrell: Intimidator
Wherever JP Ricciardi goes to spill a bunch of bullshit, the JP Ricciardi Bullshit Translator 3000 is there to scoop it up. And… er… translate it.
The JP Ricciardi Bullshit Translator 3000: 2011 Edition
As I explained at the time, “there’s no proper, large picture of Bob Elliott of the Toronto Sun that I can find via Google Images, so I just took one of the shitty small ones and filled in what I figured the rest looked like in MS Paint– minus his left hind leg, which I couldn’t fit in there without it looking like a dick.”
Bob Elliott: Rumour Monger
OK, so maybe it’s recycled from a little farther back than the scope of this post is supposed to go, but what would a DJF Photoshop post be without John Farrell’s Charles-Bronson-as-Judd-Hirsch turn in our woefully underused Dear John… graphic?
Wilner: Farrell Speaks!
Recycled from an old post I did on theScore.com Blog, I welcomed to the Rogers family the Leafs, Raptors, TFC, and a “sizable stake in Toronto’s booming
future ghetto condo market” with Unknown Pleasures, my second favourite piece of sports-themed album cover art after Sonic WWF.
Welcome to the (Dysfunctional) Family (Sorta): Rogers and Bell Buy MLSE
When it comes to questions of payroll and Rogers, Alex Anthopoulos is like a child who wanders into the middle of a movie… wearing so much makeup that half his face somehow looks more pale than the rest of his skin, evidently.
Where’s the Money, Anthopoulos?
A cartoon Alex Anthopoulos with his feet up sure seemed a whole lot more adorable at one point than it does now, didn’t it? Maybe if he’d acquired anything other than fucking relievers over the past calender year…
Could the Jays’ Off-Season Be Over?
Keith Law is the… er… Law. In a ill-fitting helmet, that is– the kind of flaw that adds a dimension of realism to the character that was sorely lacking in the original. Maybe if you had touches like that I might not keep confusing it with fucking Demolition Man, eh Stallone?
Layin’ Down Even More Law: Minor League Camp Notes
Commenter Indestructible gives a hand with this one (read: he made it), in which it’s suggested that Travis Snider can play entitled, childish pecker with the best of them. If we’d only realized how prescient it was!
Kenny Ken Ken, Snider, and Photoshop Win
Brett Lawrie is Pete Rose… with more natural looking hair, of course.
Kenny Ken Ken Likes Brett Lawrie OK
Why the hell do I not use this hypnotic Danny Knobler graphic more often??!!??!
The Knobler Goes a-Knoblin’: Cecil Edition
Not a Photoshop (no, really), but still wildly important and deserving of being in this post, mostly because I’m pretty sure this was the exact moment the season hit its high water mark. This is you, Toronto. Deal with it.
I’m Sure This Fan Was 19
Not only is this one not a Photoshop, it’s not even a still image. But… fuck it. One last time for good measure, here’s the promo for Getting Blanked.
Getting Promo’d On
Maple explosions of maple ecstasy! It’s maple Justin Morneau, and his maple reported maple courting by the maple Jays!
Transaction Talk: Soler, d’Arnaud, Felix (!?!) and– Gasp!– Morneau
Yet another non-Photoshop to add to the list, this one featuring Jose Bautista….’s funky doppelganger!
Two Mailed-In Posts for the Price of One
Paging Dr. Rosenpenis… the movie Fletch called– it wants its semi-realistic depth perception back. Also, could’ja knock it off with the Upton stuff.
Dr. Rosen Rosen: Jays Interested in Upton
The Mayans warned us about this year. The difficulty of colour matching the fingers and palms a pile of hacked off limbs to a really blue background image, however, I could have totally used a heads up on.
It’s just been that kind of year…
Romero’s Season in an Expressionist Painting