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I am as big a champion of unintentional humor as you are going to find, and I've tried, but I can not get on board with the Laurence Holmes phenomenon. He makes me too mad and sad all at once, and he's trying to kill my brain.
Mid to late August of last year, the Sox were in a moderate free fall, had lost 5 in a row or something, and there was some debate in print and on the radio (and here) as to who was at fault -Ozzie, Konerko, Kenny, Phil McCracken, etc. I get in my car a little after 6 and hear Laurence's opening monologue, or diatribe, or whatever. This is as best as I recall, but it's pretty close to verbatum:
There is a lot of talk going on about who is to blame for this White Sox situation. Some people say it''s Kenny Williams. Some say it's Ozzie Guillen. Some people are saying it's Konerko, the Captain. Let me make this clear. They are all to blame. Every last one of them.
OK, I guess I'm with that. Extreme position to get the phones lit up and all that. Do continue:
There are no heroes here.
Wait, what? I understand it stylistically. A hero is the opposite of a villian. The whole team are villians, or bad guys, for doing their jobs poorly, as opposed to well, which "good guys" do. But it's just the klunky phraseology. Not in an overly grandiose way, like Mariotti, just a poorly chosen metaphore, or analogy, or, thought-type-thing.
And if anybody told you that there were heroes, they were lying.
What? I'm sorry, what? What the...what? Who would have told me that there were heroes in this situation. Even if I (or "they") were to follow your ridiculous analogy, which we wouldn't because it is inane and incongruous, your positions bears no semblance to any reality, alternate or otherwise, in which it could occur. Who would have told me that? Why would they lie and, in so doing, use your crapppy hero/villian thing? You could just as well have said that there are no avacados in this gyrating furniture, or no icicles in this igneous flower. You're fillling the air with nonsense to take up time and make my head hurt. This, to me, is not a delightful and unexpected excursion down an absurdist thoroughfare. It is radio aphasia.
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I don't remember half the time if I'm hiding or I'm lost
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ugh, let's not ruin a good thing man.
