Oh yeah?

I could not be less interested in anyone's complaints about the team at the moment. Animal, vegetable, mineral, some alien species like sports talk radio host ... you're all pissing me off.

Oh, what's that, Dontrelle? Two home runs for you last night, I know. Three on the year. You've won more games against the Mets since you came into the league than any other pitcher. Well, that's great. You are just the cat's pajamas. Your guys are so plucky it hurts.

By the way, enjoy the playoffs from your living room couch, buster. Try not to remember what an awful year you've had.


Oh, what's that, Yankees? Did you clinch the AL East last night? I think you did. Congratulations. That champagne is wonderful, I agree. So bubbly and refreshing. And an excellent vintage, yes.

The only thing is, we've been waiting here for a couple of days LAUGHING at you from our posh vantage point as the first team to clinch. Which is, I think you'll agree, the only way to go about it in the media capital of the world. You're dead weight, Bombers.

And backing in like little bitches on a loss, letting the Twins do your dirty work for you? Are you even men? (Don't answer that, Alex.) When the Mets lose potential clinching games, we make sure that someone sent a case of Luna bars to the Phillies' locker room beforehand to cover our asses.


The Phillies ... love the Luna bars. Can't put my finger on it, but there it is.

Oh, what's that, Tiger Woods? False reports about wife pornography, yeah, that can be tough. An Irish tabloid doing the trick, too. That's got to sting. They finally master the ins and outs of the printing press ("ink" and such), and this is what they come up with. Horrid.

Of course, it's a little less worrisome when you realize this whole thing was over and done four entire years ago (NSFW). This was addressed and masturbated then. What, precisely, is the point of re-hashing it during the best winning streak of your career?

Plus, are you aware of what the Mets were doing four years ago? Of course, not, you're more of a tennis fan. Well, the Metsies were en route to a last-place, 75-86 season. On Sept. 20, 2002, Bobby Valentine ran out a guy named Raul Gonzalez to play centerfield in between Roger Cedeno and J-Burn (R.I.P.). Endy Magic hit leadoff for the Montreal Expos, bopped two hits, and the Mets lost 6-1.


The point being, get the hell off our media stage, Tiger. You're standing directly in our light, and it's annoying as shit. Go beat up a leprechaun in a back alley or something.

Oh, what's that, Dodgers? Very nicely done. Four home runs in a row, only the fourth time that's ever happened. Against your in-state, Piazza-laden rival in a tough race, too. Bravo.

But, not so much with the doing it on the night the Mets clinched. Are you stupid? The stage, my Bum-like friends, has room for only one player at a time, and the Amazins waited 18 long, cold years for their night of glory. Your heroics, if we can call them that, were unseemly and ill-considered. You're frying the brains of your fans with such nonsense.

The punishment has already been meted out -- loss-loss to the Bucs at home, a nasty showing. You're a half-game behind San Diego, and should you pull it out, your likely fate will be a thrashing at the Mets' hands in the first round of the playoffs. Best of luck.

Oh, what's that, Isiah Thomas? I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the radio. Some guy is reading parts of a report by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Hold on, this sounds good.

" ... subjected to a hostile work environment including, but not limited to, severe and pervasive verbal sexual harassment." Wow. Okay, they've moved on to Marketplace now. Hah. That Kai Ryssdal is a smooth dude. I would not want my girl to be anywhere around him.


What were you saying? Oh, right, that report. Hmm. Well, isn't this a little bit awkward. Yep, old chum, you're right screwed, best I can tell it. See, this is the kind of news that goes perfectly with a Mets celebration party -- a witty, humorous counterpoint from a laughably inept New York sports institution. Dollars to donuts, Omar's never going to be hauled into court on something like this.

Look, I don't mean to gloat. Hey, take your hands off of me. Security! I don't care what kind of skirt I'm wearing, that's not kosher. Oh, you're going to pay for this, you brute. And now look, you've made Pedro cry.

Oh, what's that, Pedro? You'll feel better tonight? I couldn't be happier.