Andy: Wake up and drink the Kool-Aid

Andy, Andy, Andy...

You told Congress you're sorry. You told the team you're sorry. The other day, Joe Torre called.

"I just wanted to let him know I was thinking about him. Every time I've talked to him on the phone, he's apologized."

Dude… Don't. Be. Sorry.

Save your sorrow for the get-well card to Kevin Youkilis in the speech unit.

Tell Big Papi you’re sorry while he’s waiting for a kidney.

Apologize to Manny on the respirator.

Andy... darn it, there’s only one Binghamton, NY, and there’s only one you! God didn't make you a lefty so you could write apology notes and look for 666's on the heads of animated bears at Chucky Cheese.

It's time to live! Like Superman on red kryptonite! Like Spiderman with that black suit thing! Like Cheney with a gun! Grow a beard. Smoke Turkish cigarettes. Drink soda pop. Dance to jukebox music, download swimsuit photos, read "Naked Lunch."

We're not talking about joining Satan. We’re talking about Beers of the Month. We're talking bongwater rafting down the River of Cherry Garcia. You don't have to be sorry. You don't have to repent. YOU DON'T HAVE TO FEEL BAD.

Really... because... Andy-baby...

.

What good is sitting... alone in your room...Come hear the music... plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay...

Life is a cabaret, Old Chum-

Come to the Cabaret...

Andy, we love ya. Now get out there and pitch.