Friday, December 19, 2008

GGTMK Write to the Boston Globe

Dear Fuckholetown Formerly Known as the City of Boston,

Let me start off saying one thing: fuck you, Boston. Fuck you and your refusal to overpay for divine services. Fuck you for not overbidding like the Yankees, against yourself, against your own degenerate sense of paranoia. Do you even know who I am? I'm Mark-Fucking-Teixeira...Mark "I Batted .467 in the Playoffs" Teixeira! I even have my own self-proclaimed acronym that's been approved by Jesus - it's GGTMK. Do you know what that stands for? No? Then read my last journal entry, cocksucker, that should enlighten your dim-witted ass. I invented the Fungo bat, the first-basemen's glove and a time machine - all in one day! You think I will wear down after 9+ season? I plan on playing well into my 60's. At that point, I will be in my prime and you will be creaming to sign my old wrinkled Depends-covered ass.

Do you really want me to force my hand? Do you really want me to sign with Washington and hit .450, just to spite you? I tend to manage my average because if I unleashed my full potential, the sky would fall. Literally, the sky would crumble right onto Yawkey Way. And I just might let that happen, because you chose to be frugal, and ignorant, and the Lord knows GGTMK does not enjoy the company of frugal people. I liked you Boston - I liked your style, your blue-collar attitude, even your accent, as soul-scathing as it is, because you are unique and kind to your players. But now? Now I scoff at the idea of playing in front of a bunch of inbred drunks and lace-curtain Irish fucks.

So, keep up your cheapskate antics. I bet you're the kind of guy who tips 10% at restaurants. I bet you flash a $20 at the bartender and then leave him a $5 spot after he delivers your Stella. You are the guy who says, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you at the end of the night," just to impress some head-slut you fished out of the coke-line near the woman's bathroom.

Goddamn you Boston, you will pay for this.

Spitefully Yours,


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