And by that I mean one, curmudgeony old, stinky asshole Billy Wagner. B-Wags has lost the ire of Phillies fans recently due to the departure of Pat “your girlfriend’s pussy tastes like Pat the Bat’s dick” Burrell from the current club. But he is still a pain n the ass and destroyer of teams:

Astros after Wagner: World Series appearance

Phillies after Wagner: World Fucking Champions

Mets after Wagner: Still douchebags, but likely with more wins

That’s why after listening to baby-headed announcers and Muffin reading headlines concerning Wagner’s possible shipment to the Red Sox, I creamed my fucking metaphorical pants (I am not, personally, fond of clothes). Whyso, you might ask?

It’s because something special has been lost this season. There’s a certain mystical wonder and glee that comes from the back and forth of Mets and Phillies fans. The kind of whimsy where they light your car on fire, and you take a dump in their Cracker Jack box after they leave their seat. The joy of throwing a bottle at the backs of their heads is no longer as fun as it once was. Sure, raping them in the NL East standings is fun, but so is calling Jose Reyes synonyms for a vagina from the stands. I don’t want the Mets to be a great team, just good enough for us to shit on their hopes and dreams come September.

Plus, I wouldn’t mind seeing B-Wags destroy Boston. That team and their fans can get fucked. I would like nothing better than to see the Boston Red Sox go 0-162 for the rest of this planet’s existence. Fuck Boston.

Blouse bunnies after the jump:

• Nick on The Gigantic Melon Of Placido Polanco Rides Again
• Oliver on The Gigantic Melon Of Placido Polanco Rides Again
• will.H on The Gigantic Melon Of Placido Polanco Rides Again
• dlhunter on The Gigantic Melon Of Placido Polanco Rides Again
• UtZ you are the man on The Gigantic Melon Of Placido Polanco Rides Again