WTF, PEOPLE???

 

I go to Chicago for three days, and I come back to find y'all worshipping a %&!@ golden calf!

Alphonso believes.

El Duque and Doug K., while trying to steer the juju gods away from that obvious provocation, start discussing playoff rotations.

The whole lot of you are comparing this team to 1998's version?

All it takes is a piddling, 52-18 start, and you guys are all singing, "Kumbaya"??

LISTEN UP, PEOPLE: This team is NOT making the playoffs.

This is NOT the 1998 New York Yankees, the greatest team whatever was.

This is yet another Brian Cashman fraud, a team short on big-game starters, short on depth, short on guts.

I, for one, hold to my original prediction:  77 wins and out.  

Repeat after me:

I believe we will not win

I believe we will not win

I believe we will not win

Got it?  Good!

Don't make me come down there and break these tablets!  

You see my pic up top? That was—some of them—my family, on the farm they were literally hired out to when their mother died.  The weird looking kid on the left with the too-big head was my grandfather, who I never met.

They didn't haul their asses out the Indiana mud, make their way to New York City, and learn about baseball just so a bunch of weak-kneed, lily-livered optimists could wreck the last, best chance for another ring in our lifetimes!

So straighten up, fly right, and remember the words of that great old hymn:

"It was good for the Hebrew children

It was good for the Hebrew children

It was good for the Hebrew children

And it's good enough for me!

Gimme that

OLD-TIME RELIGION

Gimme that 

OLD-TIME RELIGION!

Go thou and sin no more!