A three hour tour.
I bet you were expecting a tasteless joke.
Think again.
We only hope George Steinbrenner in the days ahead finds the time to enjoy the spectrum of blessings that life bestows upon each of us, regardless of who we are and what clothes we wear.
Mr. Steinbrenner has experienced a rich and full life, and his time with the Yankees -- his time with us -- produced memories that we will treasure as long as we can remember.
As his seasons shrink, we hope he recognizes the lone hope for any of us clowns: That we learn to smile at the folly of what we view important -- a game in a field played by men yearning to be boys.
George is not the Boss.
He never was.
He is just a fool, like us.
He loves the Yankees.
To honor him -- aww, you were right -- a tasteless poem.
GEORGE STEINBRENNER
There is a fat owner;
His last name is Steinbrenner.
Though there are some bad brenners,
He's more of a fine brenner.
At funerals and outings,
He's taken some falls,
And these days it seems
That he's talking to walls.
And we pray that his end,
Comes way later, not sooner,
But fuck the dumb bastard!
He traded Jay Buhner!
holy shit man. i read this post thinking i clicked on peter abraham's blog. i need coffee..
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