Unleashing The Kranepool

Ed Kranepool is feeling dead and chiming in with a few...

I am kind of paranoid in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy. -- J D Salinger.
J D Salinger is a fucking idiot.

I turned 40 this year. Not 40 years old, not 40 years young… 40 years dead. 40 years I’ll never have back. It’s clear now. Look, I know you’re all out to get me. Every last one of you. Don’t deny it. Those of you I’ve met, and those of you I haven’t. Every single solitary last one of you cock-smoking douchebag motherfuckers. Life is one giant exercise in “Fuck your neighbor”, with the end game being only a few bruises and then a subsequent dirt nap. I get it. Do you? Look at you. Sitting there. With your diploma and your fancy-schmancy flat screen monitor. Out to get me.

No, not him, you.

What’s that? You don’t believe me?

Out to get me, Exhibit A -- Omar Minaya. 2008’s “Mister Galactic Failure” award-winner. I wonder what we can do to further embarrass Kranepool and humiliate him just enough to keep him awake at night. Let’s see… this could be a multi-year commitment. We need to top our weak-ass, piss-poor performance of 05 and the folding-faster-than-Superman-on-Laundry-Day debacle of 07. I know! We could endorse our manager, wait till he wins five straight; let's throw in a double-header for good luck. Then, we’ll fly him 3,000 miles out West on Fathers’ Day and fire his ass in the middle of the night. Bring Nieto and Peterson too. That’ll add some depth to the new nadir. Ooh and we could hang on to crap at 2B, throw some crap in left and put some backup crap behind the plate. Maybe put a soft shell in right. Fuck it; we’ll address the rotation and bullpen next year.

Mmm, that’s got “extension” written all over it. Just for good measure, let’s double season-ticket prices the following year.
I’ve got your Catcher in the Rye right here, Omar, you classless, gutless fuckstain of a disgrace of a coward.

Fred, I have Bernie on line 2. He says it’s important.

Out to get me, Exhibit B -- SportsFrog.com. I installed Google Chrome this year. It has a lovely time-saving feature which takes a “home page” and caches snapshots of the top nine sites I visit over time. Top left position, numero uno? Sure. The Swamp (no disrespect to you front page writers, whom I love, and are clearly also out to get me). So I come home from a long business trip, visit with the wife, put the kids to bed and then settle in to visit my favorite site, and what do I find?

My Swamp is gone. And, apparently, I need to shop at Walmart more. Great. The death of fun, part 937,622. Maybe you could just tie me down, give me papercuts through my irises, and then flush them with an ammonia/battery acid mix. You know, just to lift my spirits a little.

Out to get me, Exhibit C – The Top Rap hit of 2008. “Make Me Better?” No. “Diamonds” No. Gunpowder Jones' “Fuck Kranepool”. Couldn’t fucking see that coming. You know, it could be raining pussy, and I’d step outside and get hit with a dick. Fuck it all to hell. I’m locking the doors and going to bed. You people make me sick.

Comments

[puddy]

you need to refresh. not that we want you back over there, mind you.

[Mr. Kruger]

My Swamp is gone. And, apparently, I need to shop at Walmart more.

I'm sure Walmart will be happy to bake you Happy Hitler Day cake for your troubles.

[Pneuman]

Hey, I'm sorry to burn you with such hot fire.