Yeah, dude! This is your bro AJ saying WASSUP BITCHES! Man, it’s been a tough year so far, trying to defend the World Championship from all these suckers and crybabies. It’s like, dude, I hit a homer, get over it and be a MAN, man. Yeah, that shit’s a real bitch, but it’s all worth it to see all the support we get from the fans, which is what I wanna talk about right here.

I gotta thank all you folks that posted comments to that jerky-nut Brettricia Tomko about the South Side taking home the gold last year. This can of Beast is for you, man! Or mans! Or men! Whatever, dude – I’m getting hammered! Yeah! Everyone knows that all these so-called experts wrote us off as a fluke. They were talking about how we weren’t hitting, and our pitching was overrated, and we lucked out because of that dude’s dropped 3rd strike, and that catcher giving us an out. Yeah, like we needed it. You know that shit was in the bag and ON FIRE!

You know what? It all boils down to this, dude. Winning’s winning, and it doesn’t matter what you do, or how you do it. What matters is who’s standing at the end, and what little numbers end up in that left column. This dumb Polack was standing at first base while that loser was sitting there adjusting his cup, and we were standing there on the pitcher’s mound celebrating Chicago’s first baseball trophy in a long long time. Steve Perry told us to never stop believing, and we never did. Stick up that your Sweet Caroline and your Yankees Win, bro! Sooner or later, folks are gonna figure out all this east-coast bias shit, and then you guys are gonna be DONE.

And, man, not that I need to tell y’all this, but winning the World Series was SWEET! Dude, you don’t even want to know how much gash I get nowadays. Sure, back when I was a Twinkie (LOL), I was hip-deep in fat-bottomed cream filling, yao ming? But those FINE co-ed types, the ones that exercise and watch their weight and know how to show off that foine tight little midriff and pert little asscrack. That’s the stuff that gets me swinging for the fences, boy. I love getting my pinetar all over that, right? Yeah, dude.

But in fucking South Canada (and don’t even get me started on Ssssan Franccccissssco, “lover”), girls like that were rare as hell. Chitown, though, has got it going ON, dude. It’s awesome. And now that everyone knows my name, it’s all I can do to keep my shaft from drowning in Jiffy Lube.

Chicago’s fucking NICE. My man Oz is keeping it real for us knuckleheads. Dude, you do not want anyone else to have your back more than that little cockroach. He’s a funny dude, Oz. The shit that comes out of his mouth, man, it’s like Andrew Dice Clay never died, y’know? Dude knows his shit, too. I swear to God, when he kicks, he’s going to be one of the greats. Hell, he already is in my book. Dude gives as well as he gets, and folks that step to us better recognize.

So let me just say this to all you punks out there trying to throw me off our game, psych us out. We’re too goddamn dumb to give a shit what you do. Punch me in the face? Whatever. Throw at us? We’ll just throw it right back even harder, and then homer off your stupid ass. And the fucking Twins? Whatever, dude – I MADE YOUR FUCKING TEAM, man. You think you guys would be anywhere if it wasn’t for that Giants trade? Hell, dude, I should ask for some of your playoff shares for that stuff. You know you couldn’t get guys like that without giving up a proven bro like me. By the way, assholes – you’re welcome.

As for the Giants – I got three letters for you, and they are LOL, dude. L O fucking L. Ain’t my fault your team is one-and-done. You get past Barry boy, and it’s over. Don’t know what the hell you expected me to do about that – I’m only one guy. It’s not like I can turn shit into gold, Brettricia, you little puss. I only catch the ball; I sure as hell don’t throw it over the fat part of the plate every time someone reaches because I’m too scared to actually get in someone’s grill with my slow-lane shit.

Yeah, so keep on flapping your yaps, dudes. What doesn’t kill us only makes me happy we can beat the living shit out of you. You can’t stop us, man. We’re like nature, man. We’re like fucking ANIMALS. We’re like snakes lying in the grass, waiting to get on your plane and FUCK YOUR SHIT UP, man. Better recognize.

Chicago White Sox catcher AJ Pierzynski was the reigning Beer Pong champion of Elmer’s Bar in New Britain, CT from July 1998 to May 2000. He also enjoys jigsaw puzzles.