Friday, October 24, 2008

My Hatred of Jonny Gomes: A Pictorial Tribute

I wasn't always this high-strung ranting idiot who contributes unsolicited opinions to random conversations and stutters his way through corporate presentations, often times taking every single work-related email personally, like a female black bear (me) defending her cubs against a faction of retarded toothless hillbillies (clients). What's the relevance of this metaphor? Those cubs are my words, and I will stand by them until you strike me down, dead. Or threaten to fire me. Either way...either way is fine.

So, over the years, I've slowly been driven to the brink of madness. I'm sure it has something to do with being a Jets fan, but I can't put the full blame on the step-children of the Meadowlands. But there is one person I can put blame on. His name is Jonny Gomes. And he stirs something inside of me that's wicked and evil and hate-spewing. God do I hate this fucking asshole. He deserves a fastball to the neck. You think I'm being rash? Think ol' Doc is being a little outrageous? Well, I disagree, and my slideshow below will vindicate my hostility. And if you - at the end of it - are not convinced that this guy belongs on an island reserved for egotistical, self-delusional ass-hats, then maybe you should join him.

Exhibit 1

Look at Jonny. He's happy, he's celebrating. But celebrating what? He doesn't contribute, he doesn't do anything. He fucking blows cock. He's a glorified towel boy. He might as well be cleaning up the immense sweat puddles left behind on the bench by Cliff Floyd. But no, instead he's right up front, encouraging his pals to touch homeplate so he can jump around like a gaylord, even though deep down, they're saying, "Why the fuck is Gomes still here? I thought we traded him for someone who doesn't look like a fucking morbidly obese Justin Timberlake, but without the charm and hot-girl-plowing track record."

Exhibit 2

"Want some inside info? I keep one foot on the top step of the dugout and one on the field, just in case there's a chance that something game-ending could happen, almost assuring that I'm the first one onto the field so I can zip around like a tard, arms out, not really caring that I'm irrelevant."

Exhibit 3

See the above quote, and understand why Gomes is the 3rd person on the pile, besides the pitcher and catcher who helped end the ALCS against the Red Sox. Seriously, it's almost impressive that he gets himself into these photos. But it's also pretty fucking sad.

Exhibit 4

Last night, who's the first guy to give a high-five to James Shields after he worked himself out of a jam? Well, it's Jonny Gomes, of course! And why not? He's got nothing else to do. It's not like he has to worry about playing some fucking baseball. He's either there for simple decoration, or for his improvisational celebratory skills. Either way...well, either way nothing, he's a fucking cock-choker.

And you know what? I'm begging for someone to prove me wrong. I'm begging for someone to come along and show me a receipt listing money Gomes donates to orphanages, hospitals, clinics, the fucking zoo, anything. But you know what? That might not even sway my opinion of him at this point, that's how far-gone I already am. ESPN could report tomorrow that Gomes donates all his paychecks to Lymphoma research, and I would still suspect he does it to get in more AP photograph opportunities.

*Note - Gomes's tendency to douche up a photograph is not relegated to the post-season, he's been doing it for years. If you have seen any, please post links in the comments. I'm going to turn this into a fucking thesis.



Dan said...

Well, it's not a "celebration pile" but it is indeed a pile, and he was the first one in.

Of course it was to sucker punch Coco Crisp, so all-in-all I won't complain. Except that he didn't rip Crisp's dreads out of his head and strangle him with them.

But, nonetheless, this should contribute to the thesis:


Doc Holliday said...

Yes! Thank you, Xgook, that's another good one. I smell an undeserved B- brewing with this one.