PASSED TIME (No.12)

Familiar Foe

April 22nd, 2010. A battered, war torn city was able to raise it's colors after another predictable collapse by the second rate, second line, Darger field reservists. Now, the dilapidated Darger ground forces will limp away from the heavy losses they sustained during the evening's counter-offensive at River Bend, and maneuver 525 miles across the snarling , bumber-to-bumper frontier to the stronghold city of the nation's shadowy, sacrificial center of secret shareholder handshakes, and diversionary wartime economic policy.
    Tonight's cannon fodder performances by the reserve militia tenderfoots, Numbers 54 and 56, erased the brilliant swing attack of veteran landwehr, No. 9, who had advanced the Dargers to within measurable distance of a victorious road campaign. On to Warville! The War Doves have circled the road map. L is for Lye- (Remember that human fat makes the best soap.)

PASSED TIME (No.5)

PASSED TIME (No.4)

ROAD (Reorganization Objective Army Division) RAGE!

April 20th, 2010.  Monday's mobilization back eastward across 2,200 miles of the nation's ever expanding midsection allowed the Darger fighting machine an extra day of wanderjahr , and the Darger Brass an extra day to mull over their munitions, and re-examine their reconnaissance. As predicted, the siege of "Porkopolis" began just after a symbolic armistice attempt failed. Early success from a base-clearing, ballistic bludgeon by the marching force's steady veteran, No. 23, was surrendered almost immediately back to the natty foe by the blundering blisterfoot, No. 58.
    An embattled core of offensive unity, led by a brave horseback rally late in the struggle by No. 27, brought a temporary truce to the killing fields, and he is deserving of many medals for his mettle and superstar firepower. It's worth noting that No. 99 was back on his horse for the fracas after his latest triumphant return to duty back in Traffic Town, and contributed to the cause.
    In the end, however, the outcome of the game was determined by a preemptive, pacificatory disarmament by the second line of defense, No. 38. On this course, one might want to question the horse, but when almost all of the horses are gunning off-course, one might need to question the horse's courses. That would be the Brigadier General, of course! L is for subparmachinegun

Freaked Out!

April 17th, 2010.  The Los Angeles Dargers saw their balanced war efforts go up in smoke on an illusory, hazy Saturday afternoon in Chavez Ravine, where they were hexed by a coven of wicked benediction conjured from the invading North Bay Wizard. The unorthodox sorcerer dazed and confused the battle-tested Traffic Town outfit of shocked troops, reserved career soldiers, and last minutemen throughout the head-on attack.
  Chance of a Darger victory today was all but a pipe dream as the supernatural infidel mastered them with his arcane spell book incantations, his magic wand, and his 7-league boots! Perhaps, General Morning Glory should have dispensed an alternative battle plan in facing the repeat-offending High Young Award Winner! L is for Exhale.

LA Doppelgangers

April 15th, 2010. On a taxing, third straight counteroffensive, and  with the collected field of combatants fatigued, and uniformed in commemorative camouflage, the rattled snakes were finally driven out of Traffic Town and back across the Arizona border. Another late push by the Darger ground forces, led by the long-range ordnance of Number 42, outflanked the snake-eyed militia. Still later, with a nail and crossfire tactic, Numbers 42 and 42 broke down the arched, bunkered, barrier in the struggle's darkest hour, leveling the fight. That set the stage for the heroics of Number 42, who's signature battle operations left no doubt as to his true blue identity in the chaotic hostilities of this night's tributary indistinguishability. The troops will need to saltwater the seahorses and rotate the water cannons! A professional army of Giants is descending from the North Bay, armed to the teeth! W is for synthesis-sssssss!

A Call for Arms!

April 14th, 2010 . The sweet glaze of Tuesday's home-brewed success and celebration spill-over had spoiled over by the break of following day, and the Authorities sent in the LAPDogs, who rounded up hundreds of Darger placards, day-drunkards, and enough blood and alcohol to fuel the Darger's war party for another 5 hour marathon of extended bloodsport when Wednesday's cocktail hour fighting broke out. The entire garrison was on the aggravated assault throughout the night, and they were able to beat back the hit-and-run attacks from the diamond-skinned reptile army but for the final late night raid that ended in loss.
  Once again, the Dargers were done in by the futile ballistics efforts uniquely confined to the Sniper units. The once heralded hatchet man, Number 58, marshaled his first 3 charges of the skirmish with the elite coordination of a forged champion. Then, he lost electromagnetic control of his avoidance reaction, and his Distant Early Warning ( or DEW ) Line malfunctioned. Or something. Whatever it was- it seemed to have the same evaporating effect on the entire Rifle corps, as the arms depot was unable to hold, block, fend, or even keep at arm's length the parched, snake invaders. In the pitched battle for Chavez Ravine, who will take command and certainty of the battle mound in tonight's drive to rid Traffic Town of evil serpentine? L is for apparatus belli apertif! 

Fish License to Kill

April 9th,2010. In the far-away island home of LA Darger staff shooter, Number 18, it is customary of the gun-loving water peoples to shoot a fish on the first Friday following the Religious West's Easter Sunday. In South Beach City, the popular citizens play a cruel game with the local sports community involving bats and fish every Friday. So it was inevitable that under a sticky, beach-baked sun that seldom sets in defeat, LA's swift push to the southernmost shores of the United Panhandle would be anything but scenic.
    Hauling one thousand and one miles southbound along the long, cement spine of I95, the relentless consistency of commerce coming in and out of the municipal sporting fortress and it's surrounding bi-ways was hardly enough to detour the strong-armed performance delivered today by the 4-line Fireballer. Under the command of General Glory, the always honorable Number 18 was accurate and steadfast as he picked off line after line of nearly every enemy advancement.
    The mighty wrath of Number 99 finally broke open the outer lines of defense during his 3rd battery, bringing the entire regiment around to solidify another well fought victory. Number 15 continued to gain respectful attention with a span of speed and excellence. With the smell of smoked fish well fortified into their road worn uniforms, the Dargers prevailed on their first Friday of the 2010 war. W is for Fish Fryday.

Private Reserves

April 8th, 2010. "Load the Cannons!" On the 3rd day, like a smoggy cloud collapsing under a mountain of smuck, beaten down and undermanned, LA's Dargers marched onto the diamond field of Steel City under a big, dark sky. A gutty, but too pretty (and given an early advantage by the first-rate heroics of Number 7 and Number 27), Number 58 fit his bill and shut down the homegrown brass for the Dargers' first claim to victory of the war! Before signaling a Reserve Unit into heading the mid-day charge, General Morning Glory held out a finger sign- surely, a creed of some kind? Was an unspoken alliance communicated during the un-flashy gesture? Was it confessional finger puppetry? 
         Whatever  it was that  happened at that point doesn't matter much at this point- because whatever happened happened, and it will be a sure sign of things to come if it happens again. That said, it was just then that the off-season soft, soft language speaking, and well reserved Number 3, exploded through the homebase gates with an appropriate arsenal of batons. His leadership led the Darger ship of fools out of their day-off dust jackets, and jacked them right as right into the statistic books. During the later stages of the lop-sided battle, Numbers 7 and 27 picked up more honors for their steadfast production and reveille. 
    "Pack the Cannons!" The Darger army is regrouping and heads south along the Dixie Treeline bound for a weekend showdown with a regiment from Gatorville in the sunny outskirts just 1001 miles down Interstate 95. W is for one win column.

Dargers' 2010 Battle Begins On Road.

April 5th, 2010. WAR!!! Steel City is a long, day and a half's haul from Traffic Town. Two thousand, four hundred and forty miles of seventy-five degree night and daylight...1,000 miles of sweat per hour. Spring  Camp had proved not to be a spring- but a speed bump. To be honest, the opening day contest for the 2010 Los Angeles Dargers felt more like it was a million miles away. The lasting image of the battle that comes to my mind is that of a rotten Vadalia Onion exploding into an eye-watering explosion of yellow and black venom upon it's test-dummy impact with the filthy, bullet-holed windshield of a 1970's South American Ford Motor Coup car. THUMP! Number 44 led the plunge into the Allegheny River on Monday afternoon, throwing everything but the el fregadero de cocina at the Eye Patches for four futile innings, while  Numbers 23, 27, 33, 99 took the high road to the promises of another fight, and a successful 2010 war campaign. All ends that ends...well?

L is for Viva la Vadilla! RAGE ON! This Road is Our Road!