Dear Bob Carpenter.

Dear ass clown Bob,

Hi. Long time watcher, second time letter writer. Listen...about your calling of the games...I'm gonna repeat myself a little, but I have a couple new pointers as well. Allow me to proceed? (In other words, pretend I'm not Rob Dibble, who you love to constantly talk over.)

• My biggest pet peeve still exists with you, good sir. Please be aware that when you state something like, "Here's the pitch, and it's foul-tipped to the backstop" you're incorrect. For a ball to be ruled a foul-tip, it has to go sharp and direct from the batters bat to the catchers mitt, and be caught. If the catcher doesn't hang on after it hits his mitt...well...it's just a good old fashioned foul. But then again, you're not clear on the foul ball rules either, skippy.
  
• Hey, dude? You're on TV. That means that your audience actually has eyeballs, and can see the game. Please resist your urge to forecast the plays, because you're fucking killing me. If I have to hear something along the lines of..."How far is this one gonna go?" only to see it caught ten feet from the wall again, I'm going to kill your cat. Also, please refrain from calling a ball a hit until it hits the fucking ground, and calling the runner out until the throw beats him to a forced bag, or he gets fucking tagged.
• Here's a new one I caught from you last night, Carpster. (I can call you that, right? Thanks.) There was some chirping going on from the Nats dugout when a pick-off attempt at first happened. They wanted a balk called. I missed what happened initially, so I was eager to hear the announcers break it down for me. Carpy didn't disappoint with the brilliant suggestion that "maybe they're saying he didn't come to a complete pause before throwing to first." What the fuck is coming out of your mouth, sir? Jumping monkeys on a pogo stick! Seriously? Just what the hell are your qualifications? ::Checks Wikipedia:: Wow. 33 years in baseball, and you don't know what a fucking balk is?!? Then again, you questioned the ruling of a line drive last year, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised.
  

Okay, Bobby. That'll about do it for today. I appreciate you reading this letter, and sending me some good feedback. But..since you won't, I'll just imagine how it would go...

::phone rings::

Me: Hello?


Carpster: Hey hey, little buddy! How's my main man doing? Huh? All right! Hey, thanks for the feedback, tiger. I appreciate all the little people out there that enjoy my work!

::points his fingers at the speaker phone he's using on his desk and fires off two gunshots from his fingers::

Me: Yeah, hey, did you read my....

Carpinater: Can't say enough about how much I enjoy getting fan mail. Hey, do you own an official Bob Carpenter score book? Bet you'd get a thrill outta having one show up in the mail...signed by me, wouldn't ya? All right kiddo, I'll make it happen.

Me: Actually, Bob I.....

Bobby C: Okay party peoples, I gotta get moving. As always, I love my fans. You stay outta trouble you little scamp, you. OHH, gotta go, I just saw a hot little number walk by. Time to turn on the ol' Carpster magic.

::tries to hang up phone but hits the wrong button, allowing me to hear still::

Muffled Bob voice from down the hall: Hey, hey, little lady! You got it going on! Hey, I'd love to see how far this one could go, if you know what I mean...And I think you do!

::Voice trails off...