Tuesday, April 25, 2017

They're just too good: Let's forfeit the next three games and spare ourselves the pain

It is the time-honored duty of blogs to deliver truth - unvarnished, unadulterated and uncircumcised. When you take up that sacred mantle and dare to "post on the web," all speculation and smart-mouthing goes out the window. You must deal in facts, as cold and hard as a cast-iron Wonderbra. I'm not talking about fake truth, which is the rage these days. I'm talking about true truth... the truest truths known to truth. You're the one who has to tell little Debbie that her mom is a whore, her dad is pond scum, and her snack cakes suck. It's the job, the responsibility, the mystique of being "the blogger."

Which brings me to the next three games against the Redsock Hall of Fame Superteam of Destiny (TM). 

Simply stated, there is no reason to play these games. The Yankees cannot win. Boston is far too superior. We should not even field a team. I say, call volunteers from the stands, targeting small children or elderly wheelchair cases; give them Yankee uniforms and hope the Redsocks will show mercy. This will save our regulars from three intensely brutal beatings and spare them the embarrassment of losing by scores normally associated with Jai-Alai.

Aside from self-torture porn, there is absolutely no reason to watch these games. I, myself, will rent the delightful and upbeat 1986 movie, 'Night, Mother," where Sissy Spacek plays a homely, middle-aged, jobless epileptic with a failed marriage and criminal son, who decides to kill herself in front of her equally jubilant mom. I'll watch it several times over the next three nights as a joyful self-indulgence, sort of a giant psychic Carvel's ice cream cake, a mirthful vehicle in which to escape the horrors of the AL East.

I sense that some of you are snickering. You're thinking, "Oh, come on, Duque! Get on the bus! Ellsbury is hitting! Greg Bird will get hot! Rah-rah-rah, sis-boom-bah!" Listen, you pathetic, Stockholm Syndrome-afflicted toad-lickers: Just look at the Olympian gods on that 2017 Redsock roster. Their five man rotation has six Cy Young candidates, and their outfield includes four locks for Cooperstown. If anyone gets hurt, they'll call up "Mr. Cardinal" himself, Allen Craig, and the "Cuban Missile Crisis," Rusney Castillo, from Pawtucket. We would be hard-pressed to beat their Double A team in Portlandia. If we simply take a knee and cover our heads, and maybe whimper our support for Curt Schilling's political career, perhaps they will tire of whipping us and spare our women and children. I truly believe they are kind and just gods, and they do not mean us debasement, as long as we cheerfully lie down and accept our beatings.

No, there is no point in resisting our masters. We can only crouch and snivel - maybe make them laugh by flinging our feces around the cage and mimicking their intellectual chatter. Let us pray that they find room in their hearts for pity. After all, they are from Boston, the hub of humanity. 


Racist Redsock Fan said...

Hey Yankee fans! Who's your Daddy?

13bit said...

kneeling at Canossa

John M said...

The power of reverse juju is very strong. Me watch radio instead of game. Radio powerful magic.

Alphonso said...

If we go hitless into the 4th or 5th inning again, I have an unopened fifth of Crown Royal Reserve Black which I will drink straight from the bottle.

By the eighth inning, it just won't fuc***g matter what the score is.

Anonymous said...