My dear Eric (The Apostate) Darby,
I don't remember ever mentioning the sexual make-up of our slam team, though perhaps your apparent obsession stemming from this is a telling insight into your own sexual insecurity. Then again, all the metaphors you use to describe how you, or rather, your women will defeat us is laden with physical violence, so maybe you're not the sensative yet confused metrosexual I mistook you for, but instead just another swinging sausage like the rest of us.
Nor do I remember ever practicing "cock waving", except on stage, and even then only metaphorically.
What I do remember, though, is a guy named Eric Darby who represented two different Ann Arbor teams at Nats, the first of those teams having been, as you so eloquently put it, a "Team Wiener", while the second team had only one other male member aside from this aforementioned Eric Darby. The other guy's name escapes me, but he did manage to become the A2 slam champ. Perhaps the Eric Darby to which I refer just didn't relate well enough to the Ann Arbor bong engineers to win a championship. Of course, this may all be mere coincidence, because as I recall, that particular Eric Darby never even lived in Ann Arbor.
As for a respectable sports team, there's a little university here in town that does fairly well in such things. If I'm not mistaken, U of M won the NCAA softball championship this year, but then again they don't let men play on the team. According to your logic, then, Ann Arbor should have a similar rule regarding the slam team -- and maybe that isn't such a bad idea -- then maybe you and I would actually be polishing our poetic works in peace instead polishing our shit-talking nobs in this forum.
I do admit, though, that you really got me with that zip code zinger. OUCH.
Finally, regarding the inevitable pugilism that will take place on the streets of Albuquerque this August, to quote James Brown, "I don't know karate, I know kuh-razy." This year I'm destined to be good and liquored up, and the ghost of Bukowski will be riding inside my ribcage, and I don't care who you are, 8' 10" and 900 pounds or whatever, you best just look the fuck out, because whenever I travel, I travel with my own personalized baseball bat. And that aint no bullshit.
pidoonk bonk bloog.
--Curtis Ever-loving Longstroke