I hereby accuse the New York Yankees of a blood libel attack on myself, and all fans like me

The Bible tells of a tribe of hairy people who were constantly getting a raw deal from their God. They were eating pork or refusing to pass rattlesnakes, or something, I don't know, but they really pissed him off, and so their island sank into the sea, just as they were celebrating Memorial Day or Cinco de Mayo or something. I'd check this in Wikipedia, but I'm on a roll. So finally, the King of the Goonies climbed to the top of the highest mountain, it was ten inches out of the water, and accused God of Blood Libel against his people. That day, the sun came out, and the rains stopped, and so the cowboys and Indians sat down for a Thanksgiving feast, and they gave each other gifts, and that is how humanity discovered tobacco.

I stand before you now just 10 inches out of the swirling waters to say that this disgraceful Yankee team is committing blood libel against its all its fans. 

I am hereby calling upon God to punish them. PUNISH THEM, DAMMIT.

Smite them. Make them feel the pain that we -- Yankee fans -- are feeling. I'm not saying anybody should die. I'm not vindictive. I want skin rashes. I want vomit inside their brand new cars, so it leaves a smell. I hope their computers get viruses. I want their wives to deny them the nuptual pleasures, as we have been denied victory.

PUNISH THEM! 

I hate this team. We are 25 dead canaries in the mineshaft of humanity. (Welcome home, Jeff Marquez. Do you believe it? WE PICKED UP JEFF MARQUEZ OFF WAIVERS! COULD THERE BE A WORSE OMEN IF A TEAM OF BLACK HORSES STOOD IN FRONT OF THE STADIUM PULLING A HEARSE?)

Lose today. Get swept. AND NO MORE TRADING YANKEE PROSPECTS. IF YOU CAN'T WIN WITH $200 MILLION IN PAYROLL, YOU DON'T GET TO ABSORB ANOTHER BLOATED SALARY, AND DON'T GIVE UP ANOTHER MARK MELANCON -- NOT WHEN WE'RE PICKING UP JEFF MARQUEZ OFF THE SCRAP HEAP.

Someone. Must. Pay.

This. Shall. Not. Go. Unavenged.