Drunk. Blog. Alive.

I fell early last night, quick casualty, no desire to rally. Guided by inner voices to easy chair. Boneless descent from consciousness into starry pit of blackness. They should all be like this. Effortless.

So... here I am. Up. The demons are strewn everywhere, snoring, turning, mumbling, farting, mouldering. Where was I? Today, I see the Yankees are Forbes' fourth most valuable team in the world - $2.5 billion - after Real Madrid, Barcelona, and Manchester United, which is rediculous because the LA Clippers, owned by the bad Sterling, Donald the blathering, racist, hairpieced fogy, are supposed to be worth $2 billion - yes, billion, B, not a misprint - and the YES Network, which is now owned 80 percent by Murdoch, is worth a tidy $3.5 billion with a B. The trouble with these numbers is simple: Subtract an infinity from an infinity, and you've still got an infinity, and the Steinbrenners are worth about four infinities, give or take a few.

Here's the deal: They can never be hurt. It doesn't matter what they do, who they buy, and how bad their team is. Unless they arm a colony of talking apes, or get bitten by a zombie, I can't see any way they can ever suffer a bee sting. They are like Superman, invulnerable. And there is no krytonite.

Nevertheless, there is the chance - crazy as it seems - that one day, in some Ambient-Cialis haze, Hal or Hank might stumble on this website, or others like it, and read the scalding heat of our screeds, of our wrath, of our mayhem, and fall into a tizzy of guilt for his crimes against the Yankees.

Listen: Everybody knows it's time for the Yankees to start basing every move on next year's team, as the Redsocks have already begun doing. Next time we see Boston, we will barely recognize the lineup, and they're even talking about jettisoning John Lester for a young arm. The reality is this: Even with a double A lineup, they are as likely as we are of making a run at the AL East. I cannot get drunk enough to think trading for Cliff Lee will lead to anything important. It's true that we are not out of this race, but a rotation of Greene and Whitley has as much chance as one with big-name retreads. Either Beltran and McCann start hitting, or we're sunk. If we trade prospects for another old guy... there isn't enough booze to fill the hole in a drunk blog.

I gotta get me some aspirin.