These emails are from Wednesday.
Reader Danny. He sent two.
Subject: Jesse Spano
"I'm so excited! I'm so excited! I'm. So. So. Scared…"
Also works when describing my feelings for the Phillies.
Subject: Dear Abby
The little white light is so bright. So beautiful you cannot take your eyes off it. What is it?
… It's the fucking disappointment train coming right at you and your sitting on the tracks.
Is this really happening like we discussed a few months ago? Are we watching a new team or are these just meaningless J-Roll home runs that keep us inviting him back to the party the following year?
Seriously, what do i do? If you tell me to get on the tracks with you and I end up getting splattered with disappointment my dick may invert itself to allow Philly sports an easier method of fucking me.
Subject: NO Morning Wood
Don’t even think about resurrecting the Morning Wood. Ignore it; just walk to the bathroom and pee. Sit down if you have too. Think of Roseanne, Mimi from Drew Carrey, or any other fat 90’s sitcom person. Do not send that bad mojo the Phil’s way.
If you check in on your kid and they are quietly reading a book, you just sneak away as carefully as you can. You enjoy it from afar and encourage them when it is over. You don’t barge in and announce “Holly Shit you’re reading…a book…without pictures!”
Don’t do it.
Stay with what got us here, JoePa, Eagles, airplane jokes gone badly, anything other than MW.
Response after the jump (mostly because there's a NSFW picture of Kelly Kapowski).
Let’s start with Danny, since he may have offed himself by now.
First, don’t ever send me an email with the subject Dear Abby. Dear Douchebag, Dickhead, Chode, Asshole, Gaylord– all fine. But not Abby. Do I look like I give fucking relationship advice? [Don’t answer that.] Also, you should really lay off those caffeine pills. Jessie going crazy made Kelly all the more desirable. Even when Elizabeth Berkley was all hot and naked in Showgirls, the allure was forever tainted because she’s stuck with that wacky Saved By The Bell scene. No one wants a whack job, Danny. Just be sexy and take pictures in see-through mesh. You won’t regret it.
I’m with you, though. I, too, am so, so scared. But to quote a great Phantom: we’re past the point of no return. When the Phils cut it to five, you jumped. When you sent me that email, you leaped. You’re in. Now you’re just looking for reassurance. Whether you like it or not, you’re reinvested. You sold low and bought high. So did I. So did Wayne. It’s not smart with the stock market, and it’s probably less smart with sports. But we did it. And chances are it’s going to hurt, real bad.
Since about May, I’ve been resigned to the fact that this was over. This season, a wash. When Ruben Amaro sold off Shane Victorino and Hunter Pence, it was the official waving of the white flag. Next year, you guys. Maybe. But then it got all 2006 on our ass.
That year, the Phillies traded Bobby Abreu and Cory Lidle at the trade deadline, effectively throwing in the towel yet again.
They went 36-23 the rest of the way.
They missed the playoffs by three games.
So, if history is any indication, we’ll miss out on the #FifthandFinal Wild Card spot… and Hunter Pence will die in a freak Foodspotting incident.
This time is different, however. Not better. Not worse. Just different.The future was then. Not now. This year, we slowly came to terms with the End of Days. It wasn’t like ripping a bandaid off– it was getting into a cold pool like that old lady in the ballet skirt bathing suit. It stung a little, but hardly shocked us. [Though we may have shat ourselves during the process.] Now, though, we’re out of the pool and are about to do a collective cannonball into the shallow end. It’s going to sting, and we might break a few bones. But I’m telling you to go for it. This group (and manager) have proven themselves time and time again. They’re trying to do it once more. And until they finally disappoint us, it’s worth giving them a chance. Just don’t invert your dick– because that didn’t work for Elizabeth Berkley either.
Wayne: great book analogy. For real. But I can look at those pictures you sent a hundred times, and then I scroll down a little and see a link to naked Kate Middleton pictures. That’s a no-win situation. Wood all the way.
To be honest, I thought about Wood bringing bad luck. And it seems it has (as some people have been so kind to point out on Twitter). But I’m not blaming the Wood (you’ll lose it someday and will forever regret undertucking it). I’m blaming the Yosemite Sam-looking motherfucker. Because here’s what I know: the Phillies were winning, they showed YS, and then they were losing. Boom, simple. Lay off my Wood, would you?