Thursday, January 8, 2009
God's Gift to Mankind Talks About Pinstripes
I, Mark Teixeira, am a Yankee. Are you a Yankee? No, you're not. You're a failure. I don't care if you cure cancer with a turnip root you find underneath your shed. You. Are. A. Failure. But don't fret. Almost everyone is a failure. Unless they're me. And unless they wear the stripes.
I wish I could explain to you how it felt to wear these pinstripes. If there were enough words in the English lexicon to describe the orgasmic rush that filters through my body, I would. But there isn't. And if I tried, your head would explode. The closest I can come to a description is if I string several words together - karate, boobies, Jamison, steak, mustaches, tigers. Yes, that's how fucking earth-shattering it is to pull these navy blue lines of nobility over my head each day.
So what if I've only been wearing these stripes of awesomeness for two weeks? That's two weeks longer than you ever will. Those two weeks would identify your existence on this planet. They would bury you and say, "He wore pinstripes. He was a great man." And do you know who would give your eulogy? General George S. Patton. Yeah, Patton. They bring Patton back from the dead to give every Yankee a proper funeral.
Did you know Jesus wore pinstripes on his shroud? No, you didn't, because they don't teach rubes like you secrets like that. And until I wore them, I didn't know either. That's how I know I haven't tapped my full potential. Wait until April, in April, you're going to see the sky fall and the heavens shake. Get ready, because Tex is ready to hit moonshots that bring down the sun.
...as long as my wife is cool with it...