This is madness, everybody. The Yankees are building a DOOMSDAY LOSS machine

We were warned. We read the ancient prophesies. They said that humankind was not supposed to dabble with certain fundamental fabrics of reality. We were supposed to leave them be, or we would face terrors the world has never seen. It might come from artificial intelligence, or alien contact, or deathly spores in the permafrost: It doesn't matter. People, listen: THIS IS NOT A MEGHAN FOX MOVIE! THIS IS REAL! Somehow, Hal Steinbrenner has fiddled with the cosmic machinery, and we now face the out-of-control, exponential growth of the YANKEE DOOMSDAY LOSS MACHINE, an insidious device that has broken through its moorings and now, each few days, creates a more soul-crushing, Alex Jones-terrifying Yankee loss, just as we assure ourselves that nothing - NOTHING - could be worse than the losses we've endured before. Folks, this is Fukushima! This is the super-volcano! This is Cloverfield - a 200-foot-tall, radioactive Randy Levine destroying Manhattan. Run, people, RUN!

I'm telling you, Monday's eclipse is nothing - ZILCH - compared to what's coming. You think Aaron Judge and Aroldis Chapman are the two Yankee Horsemen of the Apocalypse? We still have two more to identify. Today, it might be Dellin Betances. Tomorrow, Greg Bird. LISTEN, GODDAMMOT: The Matrix is torn! The inter-dimensional portal has been jimmied open! The monsters are here! We are hurdling toward a loss so devastating, so overwhelming, so beyond our imaginations, that the very pillars of Yankee reality - Celino & Barnes, WB Mason, you cannot predict baseball - are about to sprout arms, legs and dicks, and crush the Yankiverse while wearing those Fourth of July MLB clown stirrup socks with the stars and stripes. Run! RUN!   

Can't you see it? Every few days, the Yankees do the flat-out, over-the-top, God-gone-mad impossible - they blow a game in a way worse than anything Yankeekind has ever seen. They mount a heroic comeback, take the lead - and then piss it away. They bring forth strategic meltdowns that, were these Stephen King books, would be dismissed for credibility. And it's getting worse! It's building toward something! IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN SOON!

Remember last Saturday's loss, when El Chapo surrendered the ninth inning homer to Rafael Devers? That was the new worst loss of the season, replacing the July 22 debacle against Seattle, when we tied the game with two outs in the ninth, only to see Adam Warren - (dear Adam Warren, they got to you, too?) - flub it in the tenth. That replaced the July 14 loss to Boston, when we came back to lead by one in the ninth, only to watch the Chap Man give up two runs without even recording an out. And that replaced... no, stop me, I can't do this - NOOO, I JUST SAW SOMETHING IN THE WINDOW! IT WAS THE NEXT LOSS! THE HORRIFYING, MONSTER DEMI-LOSS! IT WAS HORRIBLE, THE EYES LEERING OUT OF A PINEAPPLE HEAD! IT WAS GRINNING! DEAR GOD, SAVE US! IT'S OUT THERE, I TELL YOU! IT'S WAITING FOR US, AND IT'S GOING TO BE WORSE THAN ANYTHING WE HAVE SEEN!

Don't you see it, folks? Forget the wild card. The Yankees are heading toward the Doomsday Loss, a defeat so unbelievably soul-crushing - it will be the loss that eliminates us from the post-season, and which ensures the Hall of Fame futures of Dustin Fowler and Blake Rutherford - the loss that suspends the laws of space and time. After that loss, the Yankee Kraken will appear, and the statue of George Steinbrenner - (hey, alt-right and alt-left, want a statue that everybody would be happy to see pulled down?) - will come to life and march the streets of Tampa in search of Bobby Meacham's reanimated corpse. It's going to happen, maybe this weekend! It's coming, people. Disconnect your TVs. Dig holes. Hide in the mountains. You've been warned.