Stop the hatin'

I had an epiphany today. I was standing on my head, like I do each afternoon when I get home from work (it helps clear my third-eye), then suddenly I realized the amount of mental and emotional energy I expend hating The New York Yankees. Seriously, with energy I spend yelling and bitching and constructing sophomoric jokes about The Yankee players' questionable sexualities, I could write a book, or do something practical, like develop census surveys.

So, starting tomorrow, no longer will I be one of the haters.

No longer will I call A-Rod any of the following: Gay-Rod, A-Tard, A-Hole, Jeter's bitch, or Sally. Maybe Sally. But none of the other ones.

No longer will I roll my eyes or shake my head whenever someone mentions The Yankees winning the World Series last year. No longer will I petulantly bark back,"They're supposed to win every year. They pay for it, fair and square. Fuckers."

No longer will I wish childish and terrible things to befall the team, such as wishing the entire Yankee clubhouse would break out with violent diarrhea and there will not be enough stalls.

No longer, I say. That was the old-Nate, a neurotic slightly-disturbed man who exists in a perpetual state of paranoia. He's gone. Meet the new-Nate, a man who is going to harness all of his negative energy and re-channel it into something positive.

The new-Nate has arrived.

So come here, Derek Jeter, and let's hug it out (not in a gay way).