Let me just start by saying that I love the Yankees. And in an effort to let them know just how much I love them, I plan to write them a love letter each week expressing my thoughts and feelings. However love is not always teddy bears and flowers. Sometimes, when necessary to the betterment of one's beloved, you have to be tough and nasty and HARD. Not beacuse you want to be, but because you just care about them so damn much and it kills you to see them act a fuck-up again and again. So here is the first of my weekly love letters to the Yankees.
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I love you Johnny Damon,
Boy, did you really shove it up the poopshoot of your former team over the weekend! You went 11 for 23, with 9 RBIs and 7 runs scored over the Yankees five game sweep of the Red Sox. That's fantastic! Those ingrate Boston fans can boo you all they want. You have a new home now and you're fitting in like Flint. Just goes to show you that the majority of Boston fans are nothing more than a bunch of slack jawed moonshine boys. I mean, have some class people! After the way you played your heart out in the 2004 ALCS to get Boston into the the World Series for the first time in 18 years, not to mention helping them win the World Series for the first time since the wheel was invented, for the Boston fans to boo you is just shameful. They should be booing the Red Sox front office for not ponying up the extra ka-ching to keep you around. Instead, the Bosox Brass opted to go with Coco Crisp, a guy who is not only named after a cereal that looks and tastes like horse feces, but who's also been the most ineffectual lead off man for a big team this year. Guess what Boston fans... there's a new curse in town. The Curse of The Idiot. Enjoy the next 86 years!
Yours truly, madly, deeply,
Cody
xoxoxoxo
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8 comments:
We educated folk in Boston know that brevity is the soul of wit, and that weekly love letters are extraneous, desperate, and pathetic.
Go fuck yourself.
And you spelled "feces" wrong.
Mike Mo... poet, prince, Nazi spell checker.
Mike! That wasn't very nice!
Whoa there Mikey tone down the hostilities. Cody just has a love affair with the Yankees it's natural, it's healthy, you love the Red Sox so just friggin relax man, take your Xanex.
Cody, from one Yankee fan to another your letter spoke to me--Couldn't agree more--Go Yanks!
RE: HOSTILITIES
"Those ingrate Boston fans can boo you all they want."
"the majority of Boston fans are nothing more than a bunch of slack jawed moonshine boys."
"for the Boston fans to boo you is just shameful"
"Coco Crisp, a guy who is not only named after a cereal that looks and tastes like horse fecies, but who's also been the most ineffectual lead off man for a big team this year"
RE: NAZI SPELL CHECKER - And damn proud of it! I noticed that someone has corrected the spelling of "feces." Let it be known to all who read this blog - all 5 of you - that Cody originally spelled the word "feces" thusly: "fecies." Nice try! You will also have to correct the following:
"poopshoot" - That's "poop chute," Cody. “POOP CHUTE!”
"beacuse" - "because"
I won't even begin to dissect Jeff's run-on sentences.
RE: "I LOVE THE YANKEES"
Real love is about caring for something or someone in spite of their shortcomings, fuck-ups, and even failures. Nothing, absolutely nothing, in the entire history of the Yankees franchise will ever measure up to the collective joy that Red Sox fans experienced in 2004. Fathers, sons, mothers, daughters, sisters, and brothers cheered, wept and sang. Strangers embraced strangers. Faith and love were rewarded. It was an experience that no Yankee fan could possibly comprehend or truly appreciate. The Red Sox may not win the World Series this year (neither may the Yankees). It would be sad, but my people’s love for them will endure because we know all too well of the tough love to which you alluded in your preamble.
Go ahead – take the easy road and cheer on your beloved Yankees. Insult my people and our heroes. Give a high five to Iceman instead of Maverick. Grab that big, dependable teddy bear and squeeze it till the stuffing pops out. Lean on that sturdy crutch. Convince yourself that your devotion for them isn’t based on a track record that allows you to revel in their frequent victories when you have so precious few to call your own. I’ll still have nothing but love for you, Cody, because I am a Red Sox fan. As such, I have complete, undying faith that someday you, specifically YOU, will hit it big just like the Sox did. And on that day, I will cheer, weep and sing as I did on those crisp October nights of two years ago.
Tough Love,
Mike
"Swept," Speck. "Swept."
Yawn. Mike is such an angry person that he fuels his car with vitriol.
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