Take a letter, Maria, address it to my wife, say I won't be coming home, gotta start a new life...
SIRI: Ready to post.
No. That's a song, Siri. You're too young. Take this down: The Yankees signed James - not Jimmy - Caprollean, Capronalin, Caproteen...Kapriellan... Karpielan... I dunno. Guy from UCLA. Pitcher. The next Phil Hughes. I gotta learn his name.
Damn, whatever happened to Cot Deal?
The Yankees signed this Kapertooli to a bigger contract than MLB allows - why? Because Kaporoski had Scott Boras as his agent, and it was the fricking Yankees. Everybody expects the Yankees to pay more, because they're the fricking Yankees, and they crap $500 gold dubloons. But the league has installed spending limits - hey, do the owners ever limit how much they pay themselves? - and the Yankees almost had to forfeit next year's first round pick, because of this guy, Kapovelli, Kapmeister, Karpediem...
That stinking dirty dog, Bud Selig - he paid himself a crisp $25 million per year, I bet he never once paid for his own gas - and the communist damn near killed every financial advantage the Yankees have.
Hey, Siri. Answer me a question:
Why didn't they they bring in Bug Selig on a gold chariot at the All-Star game?
SIRI: Researching Bug Selig. Do you mean Bud Selig?
Screw it. Go away, Siri. Be gone. My head hurts. Siri, where's the aspirin?
SIRI: Resarching, aspirin...
NO, WHERE'S THE FRICKING ASPIRIN, GODAMMOT, THE ASPIRIN.
SIRI: Aspirin is a popular over-the-counter-
NO, NO, YOU'RE NOT LISTENING, SIRI. WHERE IS THE ASPIRIN? WHERE DID I PUT IT?
SIRI: The aspirin is where you put it.
You're a hard woman, Siri. A hard, hard woman.
SIRI: Is there anything else?
Blow me.
SIRI: I do not recognize that function.
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