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Steve Likes to Curse
Writing, comics and random thoughts from really a rather vulgar man
Why I Hate Bob Parasiliti, No. 3 
Tuesday, July 31st, 2007 | 09:42 am [baseball, bob parasiliti, commentary]
Why I Hate Bob Parasiliti’s Worthless Fucking Fat Ass, No. 3
Hagerstown is home to its share of interesting personalities. There’s Lou Scally, radio personality, incompetent weather man and Memorial Day orator. There’s Michael T., shitty magician and evangelist, master of ceremonies for all your pancake supper needs. Last, and least, there’s Bob Parasiliti, reporter for Hagerstown’s answer to the Springfield Shopper, the Herald-Mail — the worst sportswriter in the world.
There’s a formula to a Parasiliti story, a method to his mediocrity. It applies whether he’s writing a column or a recap of a Suns game. The content is secondary. Demonstrating what he perceives to be his considerable wit and skill as a wordsmith comes first. I’ll illustrate using this column he wrote last week about Clear Spring boy and Red Sox prospect Adam Mills. First, there’s the typical Parasiliti opening:
Adam Mills isn't built like every other pitcher in baseball.
First paragraph a single shitty, melodramatic sentence? Check. He starts with an ambiguous, leading statement, like he’s setting us up, like he’s got this mental picture of our eyes just leaping down to the next line to find out more. “He isn’t built like every pitcher in baseball? Why not?! Tell us, Bob! Don’t tease — tell us!” This is called a “hook.”
Oh, he has his pet pitches and a comfortable style that makes him effective. But the Clear Spring native has one modification that separates him from most pitchers.
He leaves us dangling again. Oh, the suspense! Amazing how I don’t feel at all like I’m being jerked off, how I don’t wish he’d just get to the goddamn point.
It's a huge chip on his shoulder.
Adam Mills with a chip on his shoulder? I’ll forget that I know the guy for a second and restrict my response to Adam as described here by Parasiliti. What about this chip on Adam’s shoulder, Bob?
In many circles, a chip is considered to be a detriment. But Mills uses his to his advantage. It keeps his head level and his vision focused and always looking to the future.
"I like having it there," Mills said via telephone from Lowell. "It helps me when I have to be my best. I don't like to have things handed to me."
I’m assuming it was Bob and not Adam who first used the phrase “chip on your shoulder” during this interview. Since Bob obviously has no idea what it means, I took the liberty of looking it up. According to Phrases.org.uk, having a chip on one’s shoulder means, “Having a harboured grievance or sense of inferiority and being quick to take offence.” At TheFreeDictionary.com the phrase is defined as, “a tendency to be easily angered or upset. He always acted as if he was better than us and went around with a chip on his shoulder.”
Bob Parasiliti: Shit writer, and fat fuck.In other words, as all English-speaking people except Bob Parasiliti know, to have a chip on one’s shoulder means to have an attitude problem, to go around looking for a fight, to act like a dick. It’s not a character trait that tends to keep your “head level” and “vision focused.” It might seem that Adam is also ignorant of the meaning of the phrase, but he gets a pass from me, as it is well known that pro athletes are trained from birth to respond to all questions from the press as blandly and non-argumentatively as possible; Adam was probably just going along with whatever the obese fuck on the phone was saying. Also, I think it’s a real possibility Parasiliti conducted the interview with his mouth nearly full of Lebanon bologna, in which case Adam may not have understood a word he said.
The rest of the column portrays Adam as a dedicated pitcher, a hard worker who went from a spot in the bullpen at the University of North Carolina when he joined the team, to their number one starter by the time he graduated this past spring. Throughout the article, Adam is honest, humble, a bit overwhelmed at being nominated for top national awards and meeting Roger Clemens in Houston, and determined to make the best of his opportunities. Yeah, big ol’ fucking chip on his shoulder.
So it’s a little thing to pick at, I know. Why should I rag on poor Bob, anyway? Afterall, he’s a writer for a newspaper and I’ve just got my shitty little blog. Who am I to cast aspersions on him? But fuck that — the guy is consistently a shit writer, and that ought to be pointed out. Repeatedly. He has an irritating, repetitive, lame, self-consciously clever style, and he clearly has no idea of the meaning of frequently used idioms of the language in which he fucking writes. For Christ’s sake, someone drown this useless fat fuck already.
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