Friday, July 20, 2012

Open letter to the Women of America; What is it that makes you want to stalk baseball general managers?

Dear Madams or Sirs,

I've watched enough zombie movies to know that a bad love affair can get your brain eaten, and long ago, I gave up trying to fathom the unknowable vagaries of the human condition - a phrase I've longed for years to get into this blog. But holy crap, ladies, where I come from, it's the beefcake jocks and prettyboy rock stars - rather than balding, office-bodied, management lugnuts - who score the miniskirted looncakes.

So WTF, ladies? How is it that Theo Epstein and Brian Cashman rate their own personal stalkers?

According to the Internet, some squinty-eyed, crazy lady - (in the above photo, she is auditioning for the role of Stanley Kowalski in "Streetcar Named Desire") - recently showed up on Theo's doorstep with a birthday gift for his son, which is creepy, even by the normal code of stalking standards, as defined by the David Letterman Act of 2005. She ended up talking to the wrong person -- Mrs. Theo -- who called the coppers.

If it were just Theo Epstein, I'd laugh it off and say, "That's what you get for beating the Yankees." But the Yankiverse last spring had to watch Brian Cashman practically model bulletproof Kevlar suits because of his personal stalker, Louise Meanwell - who is so scary that...  good grief, if she ever finds out that we IT IS HIGH bloggers are beer-paunched slobs who sit around googling ourselves all day, she might come stalking us. Yeesh. I don't even want to discuss her.

Full disclosure: I've never had a stalker. And I'm not angling for one, either. If any readers are considering stalking me, I say no - live your own life, go forth and prosper, plant seeds and watch them grow, etc. That said, would it be terrible to have somebody standing outside my house each morning with a personally inscribed cupcake? I don't know. And if a stalker volunteered to - oh, say - run to the store now and then buy me a 12-pack of Genny Cream, hell, I might be inclined to throw her a lock of hair or a used Kleenex. A sock maybe. No undergarments, though. I draw the line at underwear. And don't come knocking. I'm busy inside, googling. 

But to get back on topic... Ladies of the World, what has happened to your quality standards? Are you blind? Do you even think anymore about whom you choose to stalk? 

If Theo Epstein and Brian Cashman have stalkers, then Derek Jeter should get 50. They should be lined up around the block. He should have to give out bracelets to keep the line orderly. Since when do GMs get stalkers? Something has gone wrong. Did you stalk Bowie Kuhn? Gabe Paul? Stick Michaels? Branch Rickey? Hell no.

Good grief, Women of America, get your act together! Talk to your stalkers. Control them. If they're going to stalk, at least have them stalk people who deserve to be stalked.

Seriously, ladies, you can do better.

3 comments:

Ted William's Frozen Foot said...

Ah Genny Cream. "Pride" of the ROC.

Carlos Siiiilva said...

Despite climbing that building in Stamford, Brian Cashman lacks any sex appeal to anyone. Maybe it's that World Series bling.

Rufus T. Firefly said...

screaming creamers.

Breakfast of champions.