Gathering Evidence

Somebody recently mentioned that John Thullen should get the coveted Koufax for Best Commenter. I have nominated all three members of what I call the cranky uncle brigade--John Thullen, Bob McManus, and John Emerson--for a couple of years running, but I suspect that Koufax voters have not been sufficiently exposed to the dadaist violence represented by a John Thullen comment.

Evidence is needed! And this is the place to collect it. So, to start matters off, My current favorite John Thullen comment, which appeared in comments to this thread, is below the jump. ***
On the story about Republican Hill Aides being whiny about the annual softball game:

I'll suggest the following re the stupid softball game (no balls and strikes; what's with that?, though I see that the Republicans might view the hiring of umpires as some sort of governmental regulatory scheme designed to thwart their bohunkedness):

We let the lesser teams in the playoffs, because we are nice people. But the night before the tournament, we fly in from all over the country. as subs on the lesser teams, competitive ringer softball players who also happen to believe Medicare is a fine program and have hugged a tree at least once. I'll bat leadoff, play centerfield, and start the trash talk. We kick ass during the game. Further, we bring the Hanson Brothers from the movie "Slap Shot" (I love it when I go to a softball game and a hockey game breaks out) and we physically hurt three or four of the Ayn Randian testosterone-drinkers on the other side, who will switch sports after they get out of the hospital. Further, we continue the loud capitalist man talk and Bush gunslinger walk into the parking lot afterwards and we see what happens before the Capital Hill police get there.

Maybe we can even work some concealed carry in there, strictly in defense mind you.

Tactical nukes? I'm willing to strap one to my leg for that suicidal slide into second in the 7th inning. Is the second baseman Grover Norquist? Then I'm the Mohammed Atta of softball players.

Was that an unfortunate metaphor? O.K. Then I'm John Wayne in "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence" They are Liberty Valence, resplendent in their full Lee Marvin slack-jawed, horsewhip wielding, strutting, bullying, dumbassedness, later face down in the dust. I throw the carbine to Poppy, and head back to the ranch to be left alone.

Because winning isn't everything, we find Tom Delay and insert our big useless, plastic fake-gold first-place trophy up his fundament.

Game over.

Then you, Jimmy Stewart, win an election or two and pass universal heathcare. See: two tracks.

As an aside; two observations. As a long-time competitive softball player (now baseball, too, after the knee heals), you will find that there is more yelling and fighting and ejections in coed softball games than in top-level men's leagues. For some reason, because we are idiots, men think they like an audience of women when they act like jerks. Yeah, I don't get it either.

Also, some years ago I played in a men's softball tournament and a gay men's softball team entered. They weren't very good, recreational at best, but they entered for fun and maybe to make a point. Their uniforms were very short shorts and pastel. Some ran the bases; others minced.

It was very cool and instructive to see the reaction among the other teams (manly men deep into manliness) and the spectators (wives and girlfriends of said manly men). Mixed. Curiosity, shock, and more admiration than you might think from this crowd.

And, of course, ridicule, from some of the blockhead manly athletes, who probably play on Republican teams on Capital Hill now. When all was said and done, I knew who the real cocksuckers were.

The amazing thing was, this team attracted perhaps hundreds of spectators, whereas the rest of us had a beleagured wife or girlfriend yawning in the bleachers. I suggested to my team that we ought to change our uniforms to something a little more -- chic and revealing? That didn't go over too well.

I mean, that's an 11 on the wonderful lunacy scale.

Here's the thread in which the ObWi regulars collectively came to understand what they were facing.

This comment is also Pure Thullen. I still can't make out what on earth it's about, but it certainly inspires me with fear towards the Burger King of the Forest!
***

Oh, I know this is only the smallest of samplings. John Thullen is difficult to index, let alone summarize. Since he doesn't have any copyright on his comments on others' sites, though, you can copy the ones you think particularly brilliant and dump them here! Please do contribute: I'm guessing that a concentration of Thullen will be ... just great.

(Erm, Thullen, if you really object, send me an email.)