Send These Dummies Some Real Pills

 Somebody show these turkeys how to kill themselves. In Japan they have got the right idea - when you screw up, you remove yourself from the scene and spare everybody else having to be around you.

The latest idiot to try and fail killing himself is ex-Nets basketball chump Jayson Williams, who composed a suicide note and then failed to deliver on his promise, forcing cops to Tase him and lock him up in a rubber room. Now poor Jayson has to decide if he wants to cop guilty to negligent manslaughter in New Jersey for slaughtering his poor limo driver, Costas Christofi, in a hail of friendly fire when Christofi was taking a leak in a New Jersey field behind Williams' mansion and a drunken Williams and his friends went out to shoot off guns in the middle of the night. Wotta genius!

He follows in the footsteps of another basketball great, Isiah Thomas, who elected to check out by overdosing on Lunesta tablets, after making the Knicks, whom he had been entrusted to manage by their genius owner, Thomas Dolan, commit long-term mass suicide on the basketball court. Their last season under him was what, 20-62? The only problem with Thomas was, he wasn't any more proficient at killing himself than he was at running the Knicks, so now he is inflicting himself on a South Florida college basketball team.

I say, let's all chip in and buy these idiots a case of tuinol or seconal so they can do a proper job of it. And while they are at it they can take Michael Vick and Pacman Jones along with them.

But why stop there? Professional sports has got enough numbnuts losers to fill up a whole Jonestown of suicide prospects. We can start with Stephon Marbury and Eddy Curry, whose contribution to sports culture has been a wholly negative one. Give me the money. I couldn't do any worse. Then you got Danilo Galardi, Knicks coach Mike D'Antoni's star draft pick, who played one game before injuring his back (in all fairness, Galardi managed to pick up a little bit toward the end of the season. He just deserves a one-way ticket back to Tomatoland, not the Big D).

Then, naturally, you got James Dolan himself, who is a living example for why women should be allowed to terminate their pregnancies. Of course, we can't leave out the Swinebrenner brothers, Tweedledee and Tweedledumber for moving the Yankees into the most extravagant stadium in the history of baseball and then making the team step on a rake and smack itself in the face in front of the whole world. Oh yeah, let's not forget Joe Girardi and Brian Cashman, who are proving that they are not even capable of managing one of Yankee Stadium's $10 hot dog stands, never mind the whole team. Who ever told these jackasses they knew anything about managing baseball? Oh yeah, George Steinbrenner, who gave a new dimension to the concept of dysfunctional stooge-ocracy.

And let's not forget Fred Wilpons, who owns the Mets. OK, the Mets aren't quite as disgraceful a bunch of losers as the Yanks are turning out to be, but it takes a special kind of imbecile to invest $500 million with a schmuck like Bernard Madoff, who looks like the face on a kid's blow-up punching bag, and let him steal the whole $500 million.

You might ask yourself, why is the writer of this blog so ticked off? Well, I'll tell you why: New York is going to hell in a handbag faster than a New York minute. The whole thing stinks. There's no jobs and no money. When you take a domesticated pig and release it into the wild, it almost immediately reverts to its primitive nature of a vicious, dangerous beast. And that is what is happening here.

So, when I turn on the TV (I certainly can't afford two thousand bucks for a ticket to Yankee Stadium), the last thing I want to see is a bunch of bozos who are behaving like they tied their own shoelaces together.

What New York City sports needs is a good hurricane!

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Posted on 4/28/2009 ( Permanent Link )
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