My Season with the Mets

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience life in the big leagues…

Day One
This is the beginning of something I’ve dreamed about all my life. I will be covering the Mets all season, my favorite team, my favorite game. I miss the old Shea Stadium, of course- all of my memories were there- but as I step through the tunnels of Citi Field, up the clubhouse steps and onto the field for the first time I am staggered by the beauty of this immaculate new ballpark. The infield grass, the rich red dirt, the clean white bases… 

If there's a baseball team in Heaven, this is where they play.

Suddenly I’m overcome with dizziness, and a sudden awareness of being alive… maybe it’s the forty thousand fans growling from the seats... it feels like they're cheering just for me. This is such a magical moment I can’t believe its really happening. I am high… dizzy...

I sense stadium security swarming towards me and I take off for second base with every muscle in my body straining to outrun my pursuers. I am tackled just past first, my face bashed, my torso hog-tied, and the fellow with the invisible taser goes to town on my lower back. A filling breaks loose.

When I regain consciousness I’m in a stadium holding room, left hand cuffed to the filing cabinet, watching the game on a ceiling-mounted monitor and waiting for my attorney to arrive.

A burly fellow offers me a hot dog and a Pepsi's cola.

I accept.


Can’t we leave some children behind?

Luckily I got one of those prisons where they let you keep your harmonica

 Did You Know? Gynecologists eat their roast beef sandwiches vertically

You say you don't laugh when the figure skater falls... I'm gonna have to call bullshit

No woman has ever cried out the name "Willoughby" in a fit of sexual bliss

Masturbation is like exercise with a prize inside

How was I supposed to know the waiter was named Fettucine?


The great thing about "Three's Company" is that they could no longer give each other cervical cancer

Dating a blind woman… well, she doesn’t know it yet


True love is hard to find so let's make Miracle Whip in the Men's Room

Five bucks says I can trick this retardate into cleaning my aquarium


I Shot Trayvon Martin

“We’ve come so far, you know the Neighborhood Watch? We’re really getting better every day…”

"A lot of people have been asking to hear MY side of the story, to get MY version, and this is it, okay? First of all, I don’t have a problem with black people. But between you and me, there’s been a series of crimes in the neighborhood over the past few years, and most of those times, sometimes a black guy was involved. Having said that, I don’t hate blacks and I am not a racist… I just think they should be careful where they’re going…”

"I joined the Neighborhood Watch to keep things right. Yes, I carry a gun. It’s an excitement for me and I like it and it makes me feel strong… I know that I’ll have it if I need it and I always need it and that’s why I gotta have it. Hah, I know that sounds funny but you just gotta trust me… this is MY neighborhood and I will do whatever it takes to defend it. This is my Keltec 9mm, good for concealed carry and it’s gotta lot of pop… you never point a gun at a person…

"Okay, there’s a dark-skinned guy down there in a hoodie and no I can’t see what he’s got in his hands, but this doesn’t look good, and this is where I roll out…

"You never shoot an unarmed man. It’s like at home- I only hit my girlfriend when I have no other choice- I am not a violent person and you need to understand that. Look at this guy, he’s a real suspicious guy and I have a few questions for him. I’m a little confused and I’m very afraid and I think this guy is gonna be trouble… I can’t see what he has in his hands there, but that’s- oh shit- looks like I'm gonna need this pistol after all..."


8 Ways To Fear Yogurt


1. The Name
Yogurt. It sounds like a gooey dairy product that comes in plastic canisters and sits in your refrigerator waiting for you to eat it with a spoon. Oh wait-

2. The Gush When You Penetrate

I'm not elaborating pervert.

3. The Brand Names

Dannon? Colombo? Yoplait? Are these words really happening? If so can I get someplace else?

4. Plawllch!

The noise it makes when it spills.

5. Fruit On The Bottom

There’s so much wrong with that sentence I don’t know where to begin.

6. The Name Again

Never say yogurt.

7. How Is It Made?

Is hot cow plop frozen cold for some reason? Is this cream getting obnoxious? I think some cows are lactose intolerant, and yogurt is the load they drop.

8. The Name Again, Pt. II

Gerber makes the baby goo, sherbert makes the punch turn blue, yo-yo’s fall and rise again, but yogurt makes me hot vomit all over my co-workers.


Remember how I might have said I thought I saw your toddler on the roof...? 


You know you're facing jail time when the surprise witness turns out to be a blind man

I know you girls are twins but would it be possible for me to date you as a unit?

 Never underestimate the argyle sweater vest

#7. Sex On A Submarine (Hey, it's MY bucket list...)

Great news: Avocado Bulletproof has agreed to babysit the kids tonight

As the bullies beat me into oblivion I used my last breath to curse that bastard Mr. Miyagi

"Honey... Bigfoot clogged up the toilet again!"

If you run into the obese drooling bald woman who stole my microwave just tell her it’s all good...

Surgeons are just butchers who have learned how to sew

It never fails: every time I come out of a whorehouse I bump into my grandmother

Six Months Later...


Tebow looked down from his plate of fried shrimp to the teenage girl under the table, her brown hair bobbing, her lips wrapped loose around his cock. This couldn't have been her first time, but her enthusiasm was impressive- she sucked like there was a prize inside.

The girl couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, but if Tebow was being honest he'd peg her closer to thirteen. She had found her way in with one of the whores, slipping beside him when she saw him alone in the booth, and sliding below when she saw he wouldn't strenuously object. And now she was nervous, over vigorous, pretending to enjoy the BJ when it was really just something she had to do, if only for the lifetime lease on the story... He felt filthy, and he knew he was finished.

This girl- whose name was never offered- gagged slightly as his head found the back of her throat, winking to assure him she was alright. He saw the scared bunny behind her eyes and found he could identify. It had been six months since the trade, six months of dirty New York crawling onto his plate, under his skin. Everyone in this city was the same: the introduction was all smiles and praise of his Faith, but each successive interaction was an invitation to Sin, a test of his weakness, a bribe… lying and cheating was the local pastime. He leaned over the table and snorted another white line, cumming, his legs jerking as he sprang, the eighth-grader swallowing for a souvenir.

She left without a word after he declined a kiss, the restaurant empty except for the VIP's, his teammates having the hardcore party in the banquet room. This was Rex’s place, a Red Lobster he had bought outright from his investment group and converted to a suite Satanic for the Jets' private flights. The big man was in the kitchen where a Jamaican waitress had one foot on his belly and the other ankle-deep down his throat. Tebow could hear the Coach’s choked moans through the steel double-door, and it made him so sick he popped in his headphones, pulling up a playlist on the iPod. But now it was more than the thought of naked Rex making him sick… it was everything he had become since coming to New York.

Led Zeppelin in his ears, warning about the levee’s gonna break, and Tim stood up to stretch his legs. A roar from the banquet room got past his earbuds, and he could tell one of the whores had done something spectacular, maybe three guys at once, maybe vomiting back into the bowl, maybe taking another heroic beating from that fucker Sanchez, who had stopped speaking to Tebow after he was benched as starter in Week 2. Fuck. This was not the way it was supposed to be. Six months ago he was living the word of Christ, forgiving, atoning... He had preached God's word every moment, ready to sacrifice himself for Muscular Christianity, those who believed and those who had yet to be saved. A tear fell down his face... six months ago felt like ten years gone.

It was great when he arrived, like a high-speed vacation. Back then it was just cocktails and late-night parties, and every celebrity who wanted to meet him. It didn't take very long for him to learn that these celebrities weren't good people- after the photo op they seemed to take a special joy in corrupting him, in staining him as payment for his fame, the way they had all been stained in paying for their own. Robert DeNiro had been one exception- a quiet man and actual human being- but the rest all slipped him something: pills, pipes, potions… until eventually getting high became understood. It was during one of those spinning binges when some fuck from the Isle of Manhattan pried his Amanda from his side and screwed her in an upstairs bathroom. That was why she had the abortion, and that was why she and Tim were no longer engaged.

It had been almost three months since he had seen her, three months since he had talked with Jesus. Tebow looked at the framed photos on the wall: grinning athletes who had the luxury of never knowing God. You can't be a martyr if no one wants you dead, and in a strange way it sickened him that not even the media in this town would expose his hypocrisy or reveal what he had become. They were just PR men on the team’s indirect payroll, all part of the same shit machine. If the fans could see their team right now, or their Coach, or their quarterback, they just might have a heart attack… or maybe they just wouldn’t care. Maybe no one cared about anything anymore.

Tebow said aloud, in spite of himself: “I’m going down,” and then he had a sudden, lucid thought: If he couldn’t be the Messiah he could be the Antichrist. He could bring Death to the wicked and let God judge their souls.

"And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life"
Matthew 25:46

He smiled just thinking about it, the holy organ of Zep’s “Your Time Is Gonna Come” filling his ears, inspiring…

And with that, dazed and determined, the mescaline just entering his bloodstream, Tebow took the 9mm Speer he had gotten as a gift from Jay-Z and Beyonce and walked from the darkness of the restaurant into the blinding white light of a Thursday afternoon.

He slipped the loaded gun in his pocket, wiping the sweat from his temples. It was only a ten-minute drive to the SNY studios and Amanda’s place was walking distance from there. He’d get out to Bristol later that day, if his mission wasn't completed by then.


Baseball Stories

It was a lovely summer day, and the sun was shining on two young boys playing baseball.
"I am the greatest hitter of all time!" cried the first boy.
The second boy beat him to death with an aluminum bat.


This was Game 7 of the World Series: The pitcher went into his windup, and the runner on first broke for second. The Catcher flew out of his crouch and fired the ball to the second baseman, who dropped it before the runner slid safe into the bag.

OUT!” called the Umpire, and the Manager was so furious he came running out of the dugout, cursing a blue streak and kicking dirt. The Umpire screamed back at him, spitting in his face. The Manager’s face turned bright red, and he was speaking in Spontaneous Profanity, creating new curses as fast as his lips could move.
The Umpire pulled a handgun out of his pocket, waving it at the position players and- tell me how this ends I have to go the bathroom!


A girl wanted to join the baseball team.
"You cannot join the baseball team," said Johnny, "you are a girl."
Later that day she got her first period.


An Old Man was telling a group of children about the greatest baseball player he had ever seen.
"Mickey Mantle once hit a ball so high it has never come down!"
The kids wandered off to eat ketchup packets that they found in the parking lot.


It was the top of the twenty-second inning, and the home team had run out of position players. The Manager- desperate- decided to pull a fan from the stands. He walked up to Dewey Mufchuk- an accountant in the first row- and whispered quietly.
“How would you like to pinch-hit?”

Dewy beamed, nodding, and climbed over the rail and down the dugout steps, where the batboys helped him into a uniform. This had been Dewey’s dream since as far back as he could remember! As a kid he had fantasized about being in a Major League game and getting a hit- heck, just making contact with the ball would be a story he could tell the rest of his life.

Dewey died in the on-deck circle when a congenital heart defect caused an intergalactic embolism.
The game was called on account of Irony.


A woman was selling tickets to a baseball game.
A young boy walked up to her and asked how much they cost.
"Nine dollars," said the woman.


It was the first day of little league, and Cheebo had come to the ballpark straight from school. He put on his uniform and pulled his stirrups high, he put on his eye-black and pounded his broken-in glove, he filled his cheek with Big League Chew and walked to the mound.

The batter stepped into the box and Cheebo went into his windup. He threw a fastball- 87 miles an hour- but tore his rotator cuff, the sound of ripping muscle loud enough to quiet the players and fans.

The Coach came out to examine Cheebo’s arm, and in a moment he was laughing uproariously.

“What’s so funny?” asked Cheebo.

The Coach was laughing so hard he could barely speak. “You’ll never pitch again,” he said, doubling over and holding his stomach.
Did I forget to mention that the Coach was psychotic?


An Old Man took his Grandson to a game at Yankee Stadium.
"When I die," he said, "I want you to scatter my ashes right here."
"Grandpa," said the boy, "shut the fuck up."


Two brothers were arguing over whether they should go fishing or play baseball.

They compromised by raping a homeless woman.


A father and son went to a baseball game.
“Today I’m going to catch a foul ball,” boasted the Father, “and when I do I will give it to you!”
For seven innings they watched the game from the upper deck, keeping score and eating peanuts. Then, in the bottom of the eighth, the shortstop fouled a ball directly at them, and the Father leapt to catch it, falling forty feet over the rail and cracking his skull on the pavement below.

“Hot dogs!” called the hot dog vendor.

The boy took out his wallet, “One, please.”

Letters To Superman

Mr. Superman,
Dude, I’ve never written a letter like this before… and I totally respect all the good you do for everyone… maybe you could help me out? 

The superintendent of my apartment (not the landlord this is his brother-in-law ) is starting to enforce all sorts of weird rules (no scented candles, no parties, etc) and it’s only because he wants me and my girlfriend out of the building, and that’s only because we don’t pay our rent (long story). 

Any chance you could do something here? I’m not talking about killing the guy (although I wouldn’t mind) but maybe like just dangle him from the rooftop while I threaten him… or a hospital job like they say in the movies? I just really need some justice and I figure you’re the man.
- Danny Romano

Dear Superman,
I have been a good all year and I would like Dora the Explorerer bike and Hanna Montana rok star guitar. Also I want Justen Bebber clothes and stickers. My brother wants a light-saver from star wars. Can you get this for us? I will be so happy merry Christmass love, christina
- Christina Phillps

I realize you get a lot of requests, most from people with worse problems than mine, but I urge you to read my entire letter before deciding on a course of action. My dog Zero died last Autumn, the result of my wife accidentally crushing him with our Subaru. Zero was only two years old and had many good years ahead of him… I often miss his companionship and the love that he brought to me, my wife, and our two children.

If you could somehow find it in your heart to circle the earth and reverse the rotation of the planet to turn back time so that I might get a second chance at saving Zero’s life I would be grateful beyond all words. Please see the date & location of the incident with the attached photographs… a timely response would be appreciated.  (We're leaving for Maui on the 27th)

Best wishes, Bryan Alan Sheinbaum


You think you’re a hotshot dipshit just because you’re invincible? Just because women prefer you over me…? I don’t think you’re so tough I think you’re a pathetic coward with a lot of explaining to do. Who made you judge and jury for what’s right and wrong in America? I’ll kick your ass anytime- day or night- you name the place and time and I will be there to humilate you like you’ve humiliated every normal man in this country. I’ll beat you bloody and send you back to Vulcan in a body bag you dumb son of a bitch! Unless you wanna be friends... that would be cool, too. Otherwise prepare to die!

- x-factor

Enclosed is yet another sack of over 6oo letters intended for you that were mistakenly delivered to me. I’ve complained to the post office about this but they don’t seem to be able to stop it. I can't figure out how this keeps happening. Anyway, please keep up the good work, and always remember how much we need you… love always,   
Sue Perman


Sorry I’m late… I was on the toilet all morning with the beefies

Nothing says nobility like Doritos on the front porch

I just think it’s nice that the road to Hell is even paved

Good hit men leave their puppies at home

I believe in God, if only to have someone to talk to during sex

 Teenage runaways make the best Denver omelets

People who use the phrase "F-Bomb" are fucking hilarious


The new maid is a deaf-mute so your guess is as good as mine

If being in a serious relationship means having to watch Sandra Bullock movies I hope I die alone and unloved

Why walk the plank when you can swan dive?

Diabetic kids really dig the grape Kool-Aid

Why Home-Making Isn't Work

No water-cooler

Kids are not customers  

Loads of free time

No interview  

Casual everydays 

No paycheck 


Milkmen don’t exist

Zero paperwork probably

No accountability

Bare feet in carpet

Working dishwasher  

Chocolate is none of your business

Anyone can do it  

No business cards

Automatic diapers sometimes

Mom is not a verb

No promotion possible; none deserved

Frozen pizzas save time

Kids don’t speak the language


Fantastic Bastards of the 1980's

Bradley Whitford

Bradley- who turned 40 before his 25th birthday- is best known for his role as Roger Latimore in “Revenge Of The Nerds 2.” Roger is so disgusted by the presence of the Nerds that he’s willing to sacrifice his good name, collegiate career, and a relationship with blonde fern Courtney Thorne-Smith just to humiliate them. He’s too overcome with hatred to even deny his wrongdoing: When he’s publicly accused of framing the Nerds for  Grand Theft Auto and stranding them on a deserted island to die he proudly declares:

“Okay, okay, maybe I did!”

Well done, you spectacular shithead!

Michael Douglas

In both “Wall Street” and “Fatal Attraction” Michael Douglas teaches us that being a self-obsessed bucket of slime can have its downsides. As the plunderous robber-baron Gordon Gekko he destroys a company just to make an extra nine dollars, and as unfaithful husband Dan Gallagher he exposes his wife and innocent daughter to the violent psychosis of mistress and rabbit aficionado Glenn Close. It seems everybody else suffers for this man’s lethal greed and toxic lust.

Calling CRS...

Tony Goldwyn

Turned Swayze into a “Ghost.” Why’d he have to go and do that, hah?


Those two had only each other!

William Zabka

Whether he was pulping Ralph Macchio (thank you!) as Johnny in “The Karate Kid” or undermining Jason Melon as Chas in “Back To School,” Zabka absorbed evil like a sponge. This was the gentleman’s motherfucker, a man so full of bad he actually enjoyed being told off. Watch him sniff in delight as characters profess their hatred of him! Watch him go out of his way to devastate others and bask in their suffering and humiliation.

Go, Johnny, go!

Ronald Reagan

You had to be there.

 James Spader

King of the Yuppie Scum and a prick in almost every 80’s film, including
“Less Than Zero,” “Wall Street,” “Baby Boom,” “Pretty In Pink,” “Sex, Lies & Videotape,” and, yes, “Mannequin.” Spader is the undisputed Zen master of upwardly-mobile scuzzos, tailoring each performance to its movie and discovering endless variations of Asshole. His low-key and pointlessly-vicious misbehavior put the fear of God into every office worker in America… back-stabbing has never been so beauteous.

Paul Gleason

Which role was better- ramrod Principal Vernon in “The Breakfast Club or foul-mouthed scavenger Clarence Beaks in “Trading Places”? Either way he wins… and you lose. I’d love to discuss his general hatred of the human peoples but as Clarence might say: Fuck off!

William Atherton

On your knees, boys.. the King of Cocksuckers has just entered the room. William “Bitch” Atherton pulled off the divine trifecta, playing magnificent fuckers in “Real Genius,” “Ghostbusters,” and “Die Hard.” Nauseatingly greedy and shamelessly cruel, his characters all shared one common goal: the ruthless destruction of the film’s protagonist.

His atrocities are well-documented, from releasing the ghost containment chamber on an unsuspecting New York to exploiting John McClane’s children on national television… and his abuse of Nerds in “Genius” would make even Bradley Whitford blush. They don’t make ‘em like William Atherton anymore: scene-stealing, mustache-twirling, scenery-chewing monsters. I know what you’re wondering and yes… it’s true…

This man has no dick.


Airplane Story


Tell me, Christina... tell me. Just... tell me."

Somebody sneezed.

"Tell me what happened that weekend at the Cape.”

I took a deep breath. The plane was in the air now, over the noises, over the ocean, over the two-bedroom condo on the market for over ten weeks, over the troubles of the earthbound and working concerns, over everything, and taking us bravely through endless red sky.

Christina, looking bothered, only shifted in her seat. But I stood steady on the question. Elsewhere on the plane a baby would cry. “Let’s talk another time,” she said, and turned to face the window. But I had waited too long to fall back now. 

“Tell me, Christina, tell me... tell me what happened that weekend at the Cape with Anthony." Four years of my life I had spent with this woman, working to make her see, slaving to earn a long-promised love. Four years proving on a blackboard that we were meant to be together, that no man could love her more. Four years of following, of taking abuse, with the hope that someday she'd take mine.

But she just shook her head and went back to her magazine. The model on the cover promised '10 Great Lies To Tell In Bed.

“Tell me, Christina, tell me...” I insisted, “Tell me what happened that weekend at the Cape with Anthony and the changing room.”

My engagement ring was worn around her finger... but I didn't know if I was in her soul. I couldn't tell if she loved me or settled for something sound. I no longer knew what she was thinking, or if I ever appeared in those thoughts. I was at fault for finding her fine, for accepting her completely and without question. Waking up in the morning I listened for her breath and at the end of every evening I wanted her voice in my ear. When she was angry with me I was more than hurt... I was broken. And since we had recently agreed to tangle our lives forever I had to know.

I had to know.

I wiped the sweat from my brow. "Tell me."

I was losing altitude.

“You’re being silly,” she said, uncoiling her headphones.

“I mean it,” I spoke in a bass that caught my own ear by surprise.

“Tell me, Christina, tell me... tell me what happened that weekend at the Cape with Anthony and the changing room and the shower.”

But she wasn’t saying. It had been two years since that Cape Cod vacation, two years since we ran into her amoral friend Anthony on the beach. Two years since the two of them disappeared for an hour from the changing room. Two years since I found her showering on the deck while humming new music and refusing to look me in the eye. I couldn't ignore it anymore. Now I had to know.

“Tell me, Christina, tell me what happened... tell me!”

I was loud. Someone looked up from their laptop.

Then, all at once, the warmest, softest look came over her, a look that melted me, and she smiled, squeezing my hand in hers. Her eyes looked deep inside me, and a rush of love radiated through my chest.

“Oh baby,” she sighed, and suddenly I knew I had nothing to fear. I'd been jealous... I'd been deaf. I was a tiny, small-minded, inferior child. There was nothing to worry about. I loved her... and she loved me in return. With my worries dissolved I exhaled, a smile spreading across my face. I was so relieved that I felt like flying.

The stewardess approached us with the beverage cart and smiled. “Would either of you like a drink?”

Christina turned to face me. “Anthony fucked me in the ass and came in my hair.” She slipped on her headphones and reclined in her seat, engrossed by the in-flight movie.

I turned to the stewardess for a drink but she had moved on.

She had moved on down the aisle.