Pardon me if I turn into Tom Tantrum here for a moment. I was just working on my NL Central Anagram Wraps when I discovered that some dude decided to rob me of my idea. Rob? By Who? A total loser named Al, apparently.

So let me tell everybody what I think about Al, the Crime Brat:

Al Is Cow Snot, Milt. Al Wore Slime, Jim. Al Ran Bozos, Marc. He’s a Dud Egg, Marx. He is all Wet, Much Lazier than I. If Al were Elizabethan, he would pilfer Shakespeare of Romeo and Juliet, and then Rob Verona, Too. I bet if Al, Slasher Man were on Survivor: Donner’s Gulch, he’d be the last man left uneaten. So, Aye, Go On TV and Rob, Kidnap Air from a drowning diver. Heck, I would even bet Al Corrals Mom if it would suit his evil purposes. Yes, So Jeer Al, he deserves your scorn.

Al, it’s time I Talked Word (Or Keyword) with you. It is so not cool to Pry Tradesmen of their work. Stealing someone else’s gig is off the scale on the Lowly Deed Meter. As far as I’m concerned, your mother is henceforth The Irony Rat and your father will forever Reek Elder Berries. I Pee, Ruin Jar and Belch on Yarn in your general direction. You are not worthy to Jab My Horn.

So I’m warning you: watch out. Do you have a bodyguard Escort Yet? Don’t bother. You can’t stop me. I’ll make any Escort Moot. If I Expel you from the blogosphere with A Penal Gang it won’t be a moment too soon. If you try anything remotely like that again, I will make you sing from Woman Hill, if you know what I mean.

OK, sorry for that Sad Diva Drama. Back to your regularly scheduled anagrams.

40-man roster: