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Saturday Morning, Saved for Posterity; or, “Burned on the 4th of July”

July 4, 2015

We’ll all pretty bummed about Miguel Cabrera’s injury–nobody more than Jose, who needed a happy healthy Miggy to keep his Coach Bracket hopes alive.

And that’s the sad, honest point of writing this.

We need to point out that

–Today, the morning after Miggy’s injury, Jose sits 13th

–Today, the morning after Miggy’s injury, he’s 17.5 games out of a playoff spot with seven people to pass

–Today, the morning after Miggy’s injury, Jose trails Assclowns on a Saturday 7-6.

Today, my fellow North Americans, endowed by gifts from our Creator, we hold these truths to be self-evident. But if we don’t actually write them the fuck down, four years from now Jose will be telling all and sundry he was “winning the league until Miggy strained his calf”. Let this put rest to that.

Consider this then not a Declaration of Independence, but a Declaration that Jose Fucking Sucks. To paraphrase Dan Quayle, the most useless vice-president since, oh, Aaron Burr [No mention for Spiro? We’ve stopped the Greek-bashing have we?–Ed.], Jose has Sucked, he does Suck, and he Always Will Suck.

That is all.


From → Uncategorized

  1. Steven permalink

    Perhaps you can declare each taeam eliminated as you go and do a post motel/ autopsy and see where they went wrong.

    • Murray blew himself up at the draft by drafting old.
      How do you measure Frodo’s death-point, when he drafted OK but just slowly atrophied by not doing anything?

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