Jeter wants big bucks? WHO THE HELL DOES HE THINK HE IS?

Dammit. What did he hit last year, .260? (Dammit. I'm so goldarn mad, I'm not even gonna look it up.) That's not exactly doing a Carl Palladino on MLB pitching. Dammit. Ed Nunez from Coaltown can hit .260. That Russo kid, the one who plays every position, he could hit .260. Hell, I can dust off the spikes, work some Crisco into my 36-ounce maple wand and hit a cool .260.

So... little Derek Sanderson Jeter wants a big bucks, mucho dinero, look-at-me-I'm-Paris-Hilton, peel-me-a-grape, I-shit-money contract... eh?

Dammit! I say, send him packing. Let the KC Royals pay him with their blood diamonds. Send him back to Michigan with Drew Henson, David Parrish and that leggy drummer of the White Stripes. Hell, let him homestead on one of those inner-city farms in the middle of Detroit. Hell, Mayor Bing is probably looking for a new director of Parks & Recreation, until the former one is on parole.

Dammit. This is bait and switch. The guy gives you a measily 15 years, so he thinks he owns you. He thinks he can demand the man in the moon, the piece of the pie, the pie in the sky, the pie in the moon. (Why did I think of Alphonso on that last phrase?)

I say, Betwere the teat, Jeet! Minka isn't gonna like being married to a Pittsburgh Pirate. She's not gonna feel good being the breadwinner, while you sit home, watching the soaps in your wifebeater T. Call Cashman today and cut a deal, or he'll do to you what he did to Johnny Damon: Cut you from his Facebook page and sign Edgar Renteria. Hell, I bet he can do .260.

Dammit. Ed Nunez is waiting in the wings. And if Jesus Montero can't catch, maybe he can play shortstop! Don't make me oil up my maple!