Hey – who’s that sexy bastard? Oh yeah – it’s me! And I’m still looking good!

So you f*ckwits caught me at a beautiful time. I just went to the dentist because my teeth have been hurting like a b*tch (the Palmeiro type), and I hadn’t gone in about 10 years. I mean, what the f*ck, I brush once a day, I use mouthwash (and “mouthwash” ha ha ha!), and I don’t need some would-be molester in a lab coat to knock me up w/ laughing gas and take a swipe at my stash, y’know? But sh*t was really bitching (again, Palmeiro – FESS UP YOU C*CKGOBLIN), and Kruk was b*tching to producers about my bad breath on set. I mean, that’s rich – KRUK, the King of p*sspoor hygenie, giving me sh*t about bad breath. Dude has stains on his suit that’d get Ken Starr a month-long boner. Get some Trekkie sh*thead to carbon date that stuff. Ball One’s probably got mustard from the Earl of Sandwich on his f*cking lapel. And I swear that fat hippo hasn’t showered since he got hired. Maybe it’s some holdover good luck sh*t – given how “good” he is at his f*cking job, he’ll need all the luck he can get. And speaking of boners – HI RAFFY HOW’S YR WANG HANGIN NOW THAT YOUR CAUGHT W/ THE MEAT IN YR *SS?

So, yeah, go to the dentist, and they’re like well your teeth aren’t looking so good, and I’m like no sh*t? You mean it’s not supposed to feel like I’m getting kicked in the face when I drink a glass of f*cking water? So, short story short, I got about 532 fillings, and enough bloody cotton in my mouth to knit a f*cking replica Reds jersey for Jon FATvreau. (Plz stay BEHIND the camera, dude. Please.)

Anyway, while I’m feeling inspired, and my cheeks are the size of Boomer’s backside, more FIVE TOOLS sh*t. I’d mention Raffy (again), but he’s the Honorary Captain of this f*cking list, as it takes a special type of “genius” to A) lie to Congress about taking sh*t, B) take the sh*t AFTER lying to Congress, and then C) lie AGAIN after getting caught w/ the sh*t. He is, w/out a doubt, Grade A #1 Super Terrific Hyper Mega *ss Clown Of The Year for this thing. So, without any more f*cking adieu:

5) Gary Sheffield

OK, so who didn’t see this coming (besides the umps)? Guy’s talented, but he gold-fronted his way through Milwaukee, he pissed all over the Pads, he jibber-jabbed himself out of LA, and if he stuck around longer in FLA or ATL, he’d have their bootprints in his ass, too. But, wow, it takes an extra-special tube of “knee cream” to actually step up to the mic and talk smack about Derek Jeter. What kind of microbiotic feng shui sh*t is his chef cooking? Did Jetes slip his bat into Mizz Sheff’s pudding or something? Does he really have a right to say a damn thing after being a Yankee for almost two whole seasons? Wow – he’s been there longer than Jay Buhner OR Fred McGriff! Here’s your Toastmasters card, Gary – go for the f*cking gold!

Yeah, I give Jetes as much sh*t as the next guy that isn’t employed by Fox or Steinbrenner, but the kid’s a ballplayer. Even if he’s got the range of El Guapo, throws like Venus De Milo, claps like a Glee Club reject, and acts like hot sh*t because he actually got into Mariah’s kitchen. Really, stud – that’s like puffing out yr chest because you slung hash at Arby’s. That chick’s so batsh*t loopy, she’d let every fat f*cking sitcom sh*twit have a go in her “secret garden” (assuming those tubby f*cks brought a machete and some bugspray). And newsflash Sheff – there is a guy on yr team that’s good for 40 and 120 every year besides you. Granted, you probably can’t see him because he’s on the other side of the field, and you’re too busy checking yrself for diverticulitis to know what the f*ck is going on w/ your own f*cking team that you’re such an expert about. Stick to f*cking w/ drunk fans, Gary.

4) The F*cking Dumb-As-Palmeiro Reds

So, for the 95th consecutive year, the Reds (worldbeaters, if “world” is a euphemism for “2-inch d*ck”) go into the trading deadline w/ 4 solid OFs and a tubby waste of piss at 1st, and leave the trading deadline w/ 4 solid OFs and a tubby waste of piss at 1st. I guess this was never a problem before, as Griffey always came up lame in May, and it gave the Reds a chance to give the kids PT. But, hey, Griffey’s finally healthy – CHECK HIM FOR JUICE BUD! – and they’re still paying f*cking Sean Casey to make like a pale Kevin Young, so what do they do this year? THEY TRADE THEIR THIRD BASEMAN. AGAIN. Sweet f*cking hell, the team needs pitching like I need a handjob, and they have the chits to get some good sh*t, and they don’t do anything? What – are you waiting for Eric Milton to figure out how to not be the worst f*cking pitcher in the history of f*cking sh*tty pitchers? You think Ramon Ortiz is gonna start pitching like Pedro again? You hoping that Yankee pitching prospect pans out? (HA!) Meanwhile, some hotsh*t slugger has to ride the pine because Sean Snackerdoodle Casey needs to put up his 0-for-life. Dear Dan O’Brien: get used to last place, because you’re gonna be there for a long time until you wise the f*ck up. Or get fired. Which would be long overdue – f*cking put the horse out of its misery. And mine.

3) The Equally F*cking Dumb Orioles

I’m not even gonna talk about Boner Boy. I’m talking about the team just totally falling apart. Just straight up going from first-place shockers to 4th-place knobknockers. Watch out, birdies – D-Rays are on a bit of a tear. You might find yourself looking up at some fish *ss. And, really, firing Mazzilli – what the f*ck took so damn long? Guy shouldn’t’ve even been given a job in the first place! Look at what this guy wrote:

The Orioles fired the man to whom, nearly 20 months ago, they made an offer he couldn’t refuse. He couldn’t refuse it because, contrary to the spin the Orioles put on Mazzilli being a candidate in demand, there was probably nobody else who was going to make him an offer to manage a major league team. Not this guy, whose biggest accomplishment, after four years as a coach for Joe Torre in New York, was that he knew how to get home from Yankee Stadium to Greenwich, Conn., in record time.

Oh, happy f*cking day! He knows how to get home! That puts him ahead of Stottlemeyer and Zimmer! Probably Torre, too. And that Dale Sveum f*ck on the Red Sox! Keep waving like yr on a cruise ship, dude! Meanwhile, L-Maz fielded the best hitting lineup in the majors, and couldn’t get his pitchers out of the 5th inning. That is, after they stopped pitching out of their *ss. Bruce Chen? Daniel Cabrera? Steve “It’s Cold And There Are Wolves After My Whiny B*tch I-Hate-First-Place Ass” Kline? JAMES BALDWIN? The f*ck? How were these sh*tbricks in first place? Oh, yeah, that’s right – Roiding Roberts and his Raffy Cocktail. And here’s a heads up – Tejada has now been w/ two teams that featured prominent ‘roid freaks. And Tejada’s worst year? After the ugly Giambi went to New York. Think about it. And check his skivvies for shrinkage, Bud. Assuming yr done feeling up Bessie.

(BTW, I’m gonna link to the place where I first found that quote, if only so you f*cking losers can see your people turn a discussion about baseball into a discussion about f*cking cartoon shows. Sweet sh*t on a Ritz. Thanks again, Al Gore!)

2) Ryne Sandberg

What a douche. What a sad little c*ckless douche. “People like Don Zimmer and Harry Carey used to compare me to Jackie Robinson.” THAT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE BLIND OLD DIPSH*TS! Zimmer probably compared Andre Dawson to a f*cking bagel! Carey once called me “Patricia” and tried to mount me! To hell w/ a grain of salt – take what those two clowns say w/ a f*cking spice rack. “When did it become OK for someone to hit home runs and forget how to play the rest of the game?” When folks f*cking figured out that bunting’s for sissy b*tches and pitchers! And “respect” blah blah “respect” blah blah “respect”. Just say “White power” and get the f*ck off the stage, you boring sad c*ntrod. The only time I took you under my wing was when I was giving you a f*cking headlock and fist massage while Schmidtty filled your shoes w/ dogsh*t and Charlie Hustle took yr daily stipend to the dog track.

And who the f*ck ever said you were a writer? Mariotti? Joe Morgan? VITALE? Hell, looking at your latest pic, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were turning INTO Vitale. “That David Eckstein! He’s a PTPer! Where’s my payola, baybee?” Say hi to your first wife once she comes up for air, sexxy. BTW, honorable mention to Wade Boggs and that turf on his head. Yeah, nice rug, Chickensh*t. I liked it better when it was on the floor of a Motel 6 in Pisquataway and I was puking up a pulled pork sandwich on it.

1) Michael Kay

Like I said last time, most broadcasters aren’t worth the stuff they wipe their *ss with. This clown, tho – he takes the cake and shoves it right into his fat f*cking piehole like a pornstar on a busman’s holiday. Never mind that he’s a fair weather b*tch of a man that loves guys when they do F*cking Yankee Baseball proud, yet won’t stand by them through a two-game slump. Never mind that he’s taking his cues from a drunk, belligerent, clueless sack of sh*t whose claim to fame is having a old-woman stroke every time the Yankees win a game. Guy sounds like Corky every time the team’s hitting saves their sh*t pitching. Chase that Chivas w/ some downers, you *sscrack. And never mind that he’s the point man on Derek Jeter’s Buttplug Brigade. And never mind that he makes Bobby Mercer and Dave Justice sound like Sir Laurence F*cking Olivier (which is like making Keanu Reeves sound like a 3-year-old).

Here’s a suggestion, you Leno-looking tw*t – if you’re going to have a woody for your team, then at least know what the f*ck you’re talking about. Lemme tell you, that Juan Rivera / Ruben Rivera garbage was great for some America’s Funniest-type laughs, especially when you actually deigned to apologize to Juan and he told you to sit & spin. Not that I blame you, K-Hole – I mean, those types of folks, they all look the same, right? What the f*ck – confuse one w/ another, it ain’t no thing. Hell, I’m surprised you didn’t get them confused w/ Mariano! That would’ve been HILARIOUS! But you’re still getting paid. You’re still the hotsh*t voice of Yankee F*cking Baseball. You still get to pick up The Boss’ drycleaning. And who the hell is Juan Rivera to not accept your apology? After all, he’s just some good-looking in-shape young athlete that’s in line to make millions of dollars, while you’re Michael F*cking Kay, Millionaire and Host Of Centerstage AKA Let Me Entertain You In Ways James Lipton Never Thought Possible.

Take it in stride, MK. Don’t let those bastards w/ “facts” and “insight” and “a functional frontal lobe” get in the way of you pissing on the national pasttime. Just do what you do every time you f*ck up (i.e. when you wake up every every f*cking morning) – soldier on w/ your uninformed bullsh*t and cocky-as-f*ck smug *sslicking, and pretend you’re worth a wet fart. Sh*tbag.