TONIGHT IS JORGE POSADA FIGURINE NIGHT

Happy Days, Yankiverse! Christmas has arrived. The first 30,000 fans who haven't slit their wrists tonight can take home an authentic, made-in-China game promotion featuring one of the Core Four, now the Wee Three: A Jorge Posada Designated Hitter Porceilain Keepsake Paperweight/Egg Whisk, which can also fit in the glove compartment of your car and ward off thieves, or sit on your mantle, next to the 'N-Sync bobble-heads you received in 1995.

Yes, our prayers are answered. We are two games out in the AL East, just a light year behind Boston, and sputtering like the Newt Gingrich Presidential campaign tour bus.

But now, finally, we are passing through the turnstiles of Hell itself.

The season can't get worse than this. Nope. We have hit Colter Bean Bottom. Oh, sure, we'll suffer some ugly losses between now and Oct. 1. But we won't care. It'll feel good watching the Yankees writhe. Right now, if Jeet were to break his knee one hit shy of 3,000, well, I'd feel bad for him --- but then again, no more double play grounders, eh!

Right now, if Brett Gardner were sent to Scranton -- no, let's make it Columbus - I could see them saying, "Come back when you learn to run the bases," and the laughter would sustain me.

What's amazing is how bad we are compared to how much money we spend. The U.S. government gets more bang for is buck in building Taliban Command Centers in Afghanistan than we find in developing pitchers. Remember the Joba rules? Remember how we coddled him? Remember Phil Hughes? Remember Mark Melancon? Remember Robbie Cano -- the one who seemed to briefly be smart enough to understand the value of plate discipline?

Nope? Yeah. Neither do I. So tonight, let's stare into the Jorge Posada Figuirine. His time is over. Just like ours.