The amiable Red Sox caveman turned flitty ass-bag Judas has signed to become a Detroit Tiger (Woods). By the way, on a discursive note, did anyone else get a chuckle with Tiger using the Wade Boggs-defense? Yes, Tiger, you have a problem. It's called a Y-chromosome.
Johnny Damon. Right.
When he was with the Sox, I loved the guy, despite the fact that he made stringing together a coherent sentence seem like quantum physics. He was the original "idiot," an icon. And then.
While this next sentence will seem like a superfluous "no shit" to Sox fans, let me say this, for the record: If a Red Sox player, particularly a popular "face-of-the-franchise" guy like Johnny-boy, signs with the Spankees, they are officially, in my opinion, persona non grata in New England forever.
Now, some fans and writers have been intimating that Johnny might get a hero's welcome from the Fenway Faithful when he returns in a Tiger jersey. This prospect makes me want to puke up all the beers I consumed during the 2004 post-season, an estimated amount of brew that could fill a hot tub. To me, this is like embracing the man that was banging your wife because she dumped him.
When Johnny Damon returns this season, I, for one, will have the same sickened feeling I've had since he signed with pinstriped pricks five years ago. I'm a man who never lets a grudge slip through my fingers; it's part of what makes me such an infuriatingly simple-minded Sox fan. Johnny Damon---and his Brandon Walsh sideburns with his douche bag faux-spiked hair---can kiss my white ass. While at one time I considered him one of us, he has been dead to me for five years. I hate him like I hate A-Tard (take that one, Sarah Palin) and Joba the Slut and C.C. Cheeseburger and The Big B.J. Burnett, and I will always hate Johnny Damon. And to the Sox fans who are even thinking about cheering Jeter's former-bitch, I say, "Shame on you!"