Like sands through the hourglass, if the hourglass was full of water, so goes the 2008 Yard Work Season Preview. Today’s installment concerns the Philadelphia Phillies, and is penned by AM radio drive-time personality (and Emmy Award winner) Howard Eskin.

Ah, Phillies baseball. Like watching retards trying to snap their fingers. Seriously, folks, if you geniuses think the Phillies have a shot in hell of pulling off what they pulled last year, then you should change your tighty whities before the boom-boom you just let rip starts to leak out. Get ready for another year of the same dopes in the front office running out the same dopes on the field, managed by the biggest dope of all, Charlie “Needs An Instruction” Manuel. By the way, Charlie, I don’t know if you forgot about our little discussion last year, but if you actually want to sack up and take a swing at yours truly, name a place and time. You might want to schedule our meet-and-greet in front of a hospital, though. Preferably in a less ethnic part of town — no need to dodge fists AND bullets, right? For those looking for a little side action: I’m setting the over / under on this at 2 punches, and I strongly suggest taking the under.

Let’s step back and see what we’ve got to look foward to this year, shall we? Out in left field, there’s good old Pat the Fat, good for a sterling .260 average, a remarkable 70-80 RBIs, and stone-cold defense that could be improved upon by fielding the Venus de Milo. If this dope wasn’t sticking it to a centerfold, he’d be more useless than a DeVry graduate. Now in center field, there used to be Aaron Rowand, a gamer’s gamer, a guy that would literally run into a wall for you. Sure, we’ve got supercuzz Shane Victorino sliding over, which is great, but who’s going to be in right field? The only guy I can see going there is Geoff Jenkins, and since the best thing he’s known for is resembling Brett Favre, color me unimpressed. This ain’t Cheese Country, Mr. Bratwurst — this is CheeseSTEAK Country. At least it’s a safe bet that Jenkins knows not to throw across his body fifty yards downfield into triple-coverage, unlike some water-walking drunks we all know and blow. Maybe good ol’ Geoffie can two-sport it and save us from another season of boy genius Donovan McGagg, how about it?

In the infield, we’ve got three all-time greats, an up-and-coming catcher and now Pedro Feliz, a guy that was let go by the San Francisco Giants. You know what that means — he was on the same cocktail as that broke-down clown Barry Bonds, so don’t expect a miracle from that walking slump. And of course it’s only a matter of time before Utley or Rollins or Howard breaks down. Betcha it’ll happen write after they ink one of those ridiculous multi-million dollar deals ballplayers seem to be getting. Seriously — how much bling-bling does a brother need before the dope with the gold fronts and more sparkle than a gay pride parade says, “You know, maybe I’ll accept that ten-million dollar deal instead of holding out for something bigger?” Unless there’s some sort of price spike on tricked-out spinners or putting TVs into the TVs in your rear-view mirror, I don’t get it.

As far as pitchers go, we’ve got more of that great “depth” that was promised last year by all you geniuses out there. For those of you too busy flirting with underage girls in internet chat rooms, that depth meant Brett Myers had to go throw his punches in the bullpen, while a sack of greasy burrito fat like Freddy Garcia and a limp-wristed old fart like Jamie Moyer were shelled like Paris during double-u double-u eye-eye. And Adam Eaton? That walking sack of gas was beat up more than a freshman girl at a frat party.

This year, the bullpen carries on that storied tradition of limp-wristed gimpitude, with Pujols’ butt buddy Brad Lidge spending time on the DL and giving up closing duties to down and dirty home slice Tom Gordon, a short little doggie dawg that’s one good fastball away from having his arm fly out of its socket. Word up on that, my nubian brother. Oh, but wait! We have the Fabulous Durbin Brothers, so everything’s OK! Thanks, Stand Pat Gillick! God, with a team like this, I almost took that camp visit by Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man John Daly seriously, like he was auditioning for a 7th-inning specialist role. Or roll, if you prefer. As in belly.

You dopes realize that the only reason the Phils actually won the division was because the Mets played like Darryl Strawberry’s crack-addled family for the last month of the season, right? And you saw what happened to the Phils in the playoffs, right? They were manhandled by a bunch of Sally League Born Again Christians! News flash, kiddies — not much has changed. Sure, the NL’s still like a quadrapelegic slap fight when it comes down to it, so the one-handed team that’s not busy rubbing one out wins. That don’t mean much, though — if weak sisters like the Cubs and Dodgers and (seriously?) Brewers are the league’s shining lights, then it looks like someone’s forgotten to pay the electricity bill.

The Phillies, bless their inbred little hearts, don’t even measure up to those chumps. Three hitters and one pitcher do not a championship team make — if that were the case, the Yankees would win every year, without fail. And that sure doesn’t happen, now does it? I mean, if it did, would Wittle Hankie be pissing and moaning like a three-year-old every time some dopey reporter stuck a mic in his third chin? That’s right. So what do I suggest the Phillies do? How about the opposite of everything they’ve done to this point? How about dumping a stiff like Burrell for someone that can actually play the outfield? How about not being too cheap to bring Rowand back on board? How about getting more than two pitchers that can get hitters out?

Here’s a thought, Phillies ownership: give me one year to right the ship. I guarantee at least 95 wins and a World Championship. Guarantee! If that happens, you make me manager for life. If it doesn’t, then I leave. What do you have to lose? Hell, you’re already losing with the geniuses you have — why not take a chance and hire a guy that actually knows what they’re talking about? It’d be a nice change of place for this dump, that’s for damn sure. But this is the same town that thought trading FOR Terrell Owens was going to help. Don’t get me started on that.