
Uncoached has unearthed one of the few redeeming features of baseball season: the Marlin Mermaids. If any baseball team needs its own quasi-cheerleading squad, it’s the Marlins, whose odd locale and punishing heat contribute to their perenially horrendous attendance. I don’t know if it’s enough to get me to watch baseball, but it’s enough to get The President a little extra work in the bullpen.
“The bullpen” is my nickname for my special masturbating place, in case that was unclear.







I’m guessing the Marlin’s beak smells an awful lot like tuna.
What rhymes with orange? My dick apparently.
Great. Now I can’t think about baseball during strong sexual situations.
Use your other hand on that nose, bitch. I’m digging the snarl.