Dear Yankee Apologist,
Roger Clemens has a 5.4 ERA. He gave up 4 earned in 6 innings.
He is Not Dominant. He is Old. He is Past It. He can no longer Get After It. He doesn't have The Stuff. He is Past His Prime. Your team is Shitting The Bed. Your team is Built On A Faulty Premise. Your team Sucks Labradoodle Anal Fissures For Moisture And Warmth. Your team is Worse Than Being Anally Raped By A Glass-Shard Encrusted Penis.
Your team Will Not Make The Playoffs. I Hate Your Team. I Want Bad Things To Happen To Them. I Am Blinded By Hate. I Wish Them Badness. Like, for real.
Yours,
The Editor.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Deja Vu All Over Again...
Dear Yankee Apologist,
Well, here we are again. I know it's been awhile since I've written you. I guess it seemed sort of obvious to me that your team, while displaying a brief streak of winning behavior, was emitting nothing more than a death bleat of pinstriped acquiescence to the essential truth of things for your franchise this year. So I didn't really feel like I needed to write you and say anything, because, hell, let you enjoy it, right?
Well, after the embarrassing lost series in San Francisco, and the awful start to your road trip, and the erosion of the slim margin by which you'd managed to whittle down that 14 and 1/2 game lead we had on you guys a few weeks back (it was briefly only 7 and 1/2 games, if you need a reminder of better days), it seems time to write again.
Time to write and say: I told you so. I told you that your little run was nothing more than a corrective blip. And now look at you. And look at me. And look at you. Joe Torre actually brought Roger Clemens into this game today in relief!
You are now back below .500 and back in last place in the East. Frankly, it's where you belong. You are a cellar-dwelling team of injured, aged has-beens. I don't want to have to say all this again, so I'm going to ask you nicely to roll over, die quietly, and, with the last few gasps of breath wracking your body, and the life spasm-ing out of you, reach for your own bag of lime to pour over your corpse so that I don't have to waste my time spreading it over your grave as I step over the bloated corpse of your ambition and arrogance on my way to the World Series.
Nice knowing you, Yankee-fan.
Best,
The Editor.
Well, here we are again. I know it's been awhile since I've written you. I guess it seemed sort of obvious to me that your team, while displaying a brief streak of winning behavior, was emitting nothing more than a death bleat of pinstriped acquiescence to the essential truth of things for your franchise this year. So I didn't really feel like I needed to write you and say anything, because, hell, let you enjoy it, right?
Well, after the embarrassing lost series in San Francisco, and the awful start to your road trip, and the erosion of the slim margin by which you'd managed to whittle down that 14 and 1/2 game lead we had on you guys a few weeks back (it was briefly only 7 and 1/2 games, if you need a reminder of better days), it seems time to write again.
Time to write and say: I told you so. I told you that your little run was nothing more than a corrective blip. And now look at you. And look at me. And look at you. Joe Torre actually brought Roger Clemens into this game today in relief!
You are now back below .500 and back in last place in the East. Frankly, it's where you belong. You are a cellar-dwelling team of injured, aged has-beens. I don't want to have to say all this again, so I'm going to ask you nicely to roll over, die quietly, and, with the last few gasps of breath wracking your body, and the life spasm-ing out of you, reach for your own bag of lime to pour over your corpse so that I don't have to waste my time spreading it over your grave as I step over the bloated corpse of your ambition and arrogance on my way to the World Series.
Nice knowing you, Yankee-fan.
Best,
The Editor.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
OK, We Now Resume Our Regularly Scheduled Yankee Hating
Dear Yankee Apologist,
I know you've been wondering where I've been for some weeks now. Truth is, your team has sucked so badly that there really hasn't been much to write about as the Red Sox run away with it.
But today is of course a special day. Today is Rocket Day. In typical Yankee fashion, you've set him up for victory against the lowly Pirates. How I long for a disaster today. How I long for a groin injury to the 28 Million Dollar Travel Man.
I will be providing a running blog on the game this afternoon.
Yours,
The Editor.
I know you've been wondering where I've been for some weeks now. Truth is, your team has sucked so badly that there really hasn't been much to write about as the Red Sox run away with it.
But today is of course a special day. Today is Rocket Day. In typical Yankee fashion, you've set him up for victory against the lowly Pirates. How I long for a disaster today. How I long for a groin injury to the 28 Million Dollar Travel Man.
I will be providing a running blog on the game this afternoon.
Yours,
The Editor.
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