I’d like to thank my agent for booking me as the guest speaker at a fucking Furry convention. Oh, I’m sorry, you’re all mascots? So I’m not on drugs, then? Good.

Bernie Brewer couldn’t be here tonight. He’s either at an AA meeting or crashing another Irish wake. Either way, he’s surrounded by drunks in mourning, so we wish him the best.

Mr. Met’s here! Boy, it’s been a rough couple of seasons for you, hasn’t it, buddy? Nothing could be worse than having to try and cheer up a bunch of surly, miserable New Yorkers who have to sit around and watch a loser in a Mets uniform. And if that wasn’t shitty enough, then you have to leave your house and go to work!

Raymond from the Rays is here tonight! Good to see you, Raymond. I know you have a busy schedule sneaking up behind people on LSD and scaring the shit out of them.

It’s Screech from the Washington Nationals, everybody! The nice thing about being Screech is that when he screeches during a home game, you can hear a long, beautiful echo inside Nationals Park.

The Padres mascot couldn’t be here tonight. Apparently he’s been reassigned to a new city following what I’ve been told are “unsubstantiated accusations.”

I see Wally the Green Monster is with us. Wally is, for me, a sad reminder that not every Muppet passes the audition. “‘C’ is for… night table? Fuck, I almost had it!” Wally is well-loved by most Boston fans because he’s jolly, entertaining, and not a minority.

But enough about these freaks. I want to share a story with you about my good friend — and our guest of honor tonight — the Phillie Phanatic.

A couple of years ago, the Phanatic and I were up in Alaska hiding from his bookie. One day, we got completely shitfaced because when you’re in Alaska, it seems like the only sensible thing to do.

We staggered up to a convent nearby, and I started whaling on the front door. Sister Mary Whats-her-face answered, and the first thing I said was, “Do you have any midget nuns around here?”

She said, “No, we don’t.”

I turned to the Phanatic and said, “See? You fucked a penguin.”

I guess what I’m trying to say is: Who wouldn’t be jealous of this guy? Imagine how popular you’d be with the ladies if you had a tongue that doubles as a party favor. Jesus! If I had that, I’d be getting more trim than a fat chick’s wedding dress.

People are always asking the Phanatic, “What do you do with your spare time?” Usually this happens at the free clinic, so he just holds up a tube of Valtrex and says, “Anything that moves, motherfucker. Anything that moves.”

It’s good to be the mascot for a team that wins the World Series. You get fame, money, and the satisfaction of watching your latest sexual conquest trying to spit out a mouthful of green fur. Seriously — it’s called “manscaping,” buddy; check it out.

One thing you do not want to do is stand next to this rank motherfucker on a warm day. I’ve driven past rendering plants with more pleasing aromas. John Kruk laughs at your body odor. I know you can’t help it; you’re Italian, what can you do?

That’s all I’ve got, folks. Thank you and enjoy the rest of the show!

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