Yankeetorial: Relax, everybody, it's just our annual spring reaming

We have lost three of four.

Some of you anguished souls have gone to the basement to test the clothesline and floor beam. You've gone slightly Heidi Montag over the loss of Granderson, Johnson, Andy, Jorge, the bullpen, A-Rod's power and John's WinWarbles. You are birther batshit wrong.

We must embrace the May Daze. 

A cherished tradition of Second Millenium Yankees is to suck throughout May. As poetess/singer Jewel once put it, "May birds go tweet, May sunsets show red, May daffodils bloom, May Yankees shit bed."

Yes, May Yankee slumps are part of Gaia, a key component of the Disney's Lion King Circle of Life. The Wookies of Star Wars III understood this, as did the big blue Whatthefuks in that Avatar movie, when they hooked up fiber-optically to the magical Tree of Love : To be reborn in July, Yankees first must die.

Yes, May is the month of our discontent. Remember Jeter's longest slump? Remember Abreu? Sabathia?

Jose Veras? Month of May.

Cody Ransom? Month of May.

We always take off the month. Hell, it's vacation time. The carp are running. It's in our contract, along with no blue M&Ms.

We're about to lose -- oh -- figure 9 of the next 12. Who cares! Embrace the suck! Become the slump! It's May, which is -- no kidding-- also National Masturbation Month. (Is there a link to Nick Johnson hurting his wrist on May 3?)

Somehow, we can play through.