Also your father. Also your boss. Your master. The man who writes your checks. The guy who might well call in the vig. He’s the guy. The dude. The bull goose looney. So fuck you. FUCK YOU, YANKEES FANS. What can you do, with sutures holding your tendons together? Take a ladylike nibble at my nether regions? Oh, HEY. That’s what I thought.
I’m not ashamed to tell you that I cried a little tonight. Not as much as A-Rod cried, but that’s okay.
I am all out of eloquence. All’s I can say is, this was a good night. A really good night.