Don’t put me near a word processor when I’m mad
[ 6 Comments ] Posted on 03.12.08 in Rays, baseball, letters
I am livid.
Recently, the Rays and Yankees have had sort of a feud because one of our guys came in hard to home plate in an attempt to make the catcher drop the ball (a completely normal and very exciting play in baseball, I might add). Well, long story short, the catcher broke his wrist and now Yankee nation (and only Yankee nation) has been whining about it for a week. You can see the story here.
Today, the Yankees retaliated by hitting our top prospect with a pitch and then sending a man to slide into second with his foot aimed directly at Aki’s balls. This did not sit well with Jonny Gomes, who is known to be absolutely insane, and a brawl started. The Rays won the game. Story here.
Well, I am angry. So angry, in fact, that I’m sending the Yankees a letter regarding my anger. We shall see if I get a response (I wouldn’t count on it):
Dear New York Yankees,
I’m writing today to address an issue that has recently come about between your Major League Franchise and my hometown team, the Tampa Bay Rays.
Recently, there has been much hubbub regarding a recent play at the plate involving Elliot Johnson and your now-injured catcher Francisco Cervelli. It escalated into a difference of opinion, with your beloved Joe Girardi saying that you should not play so hard in spring training and the rest of the world disagreeing with him. I guess it’s just a difference of opinion: one man says spring training is to get players in tune for the real season (because, you know, Francisco Cervelli is obviously an odds-on favorite to be the catcher for the New York Yankees on opening day), and another man says that spring training is a grounds upon which players can prove their worth to the organization and hope for a spot on the big-league club (I might point out that with Rocco Baldelli’s newfound illness, Mr. Johnson’s chances of joining the club have increased heftily).
If, as Mr. Girardi suggests, the proper spring training etiquette is to play spring training games with one’s starters in the beginning five innings of a game and just roll over and play some ill-conceived version of cricket for the remainder of the game, I move that the New York Yankees should reduce their ticket prices by 4/9. It’s only fair.
But then, I would rather violate a porcupine than subject myself to a stadium full of Yankees fans.
However, this is not the point I wish to write about today.
No, you can consider this letter a formal complaint about the actions of the spring training contest between these two teams that took place today, March 12, 2008. I will specifically list my grievances as follows:
1. The obvious attempt of Mr. Shelley Duncan (who, might I add, has an adorable name) to severely injure or otherwise hurt Mr. Akinori Iwamura while sliding into second base was classless and completely unnecessary. Outfielder Jonny Gomes retaliated, thus inciting a “brawl” on the field. (I use this term lightly because, frankly, baseball fights are outrageously relaxed. I say we should give them all knives or something and see who the stronger team is. I’ll give you a hint: it’s probably you guys – steroids, you know.)
2. It is crystal clear that this was a premeditated affront to Mr. Iwamura’s testicles. Fearing a brawl or possible suspension, Mr. Girardi did not have New York’s star players in the lineup. No Rodriguez, no Jeter, no Damon. What a pleasant coincidence that they didn’t make the trip to St. Petersburg!
3. Interestingly enough, pitcher Andy Pettite was scratched shortly before the game. And wouldn’t you know it – Evan Longoria was hit by a Heath Phillips pitch in the first inning. Curious, wouldn’t you say?
There you have it. As a personal note, my least favorite baseball team for a good while has been the Red Sox. Thanks to Mr. Duncan and Mr. Girardi, the Bronx Bombers have now taken that place in my heart. So, congratulations! I know how fond your organization is of being number one.
I hope you actually got to this point in my letter. I respectfully request that I be mailed with correspondence noting that someone has actually read this letter. An apology on behalf of your organization would be nice, as well. I don’t expect either, though; a classless organization such as yours should not be held to such rigorous standards of decency.
Heck, you can have Hank call me if you want. My phone is always on.
Thank you for your time, and please remember that while I severely dislike your team (and by association your fans, your players, your employees, and your city), they are welcome to Tropicana Field at any time. I love watching the Yankees lose.
Respectfully,
Casey A. Peterson
Here’s to You, Chicken Quesadilla Hot Pocket
[ No Comments ] Posted on 02.17.08 in food, letters
Dear people who make Hot Pockets,
Don’t think that your work has gone unnoticed.
When I was knee high to a grasshopper sitting on the children’s seat on the back of my mom’s bike, I knew that I was heading home to a pretty disgusting dinner.
But now, I look forward to the Hot Pocket Experience.
I started eating Hot Pockets regularly when I came to college, in spite of the fact that I have a gigantic kitchen in which I could prepare feasts fit for a king. Back then, Hot Pockets were weird lumps of disgusting dough filled with cheesy God-knows-what. However, in the spring of last year, I went to my local Publix and I was greeted with an amazing thing: instead of boxes with two such disgusting doughy delights, they were now beginning to sell boxes containing five of these things!
Oh, I was in Heaven. Little did I know that Heaven could get even better. Friends, I was about to gain access to Heaven’s champagne room with the discovery that they were now stuffing these things with even more (real) meat.
And who would have known that I could have myself a grand time in the champagne room in Heaven? That’s right – it got even better.
Apparently, they redesigned the crisping sleeve. Now, you can fold the sleeve into a little dinner holster from which you can consume your now-delicious microwavable treat.
So, here’s to you, oh Mavericks of the Microwave. Your efforts haven’t been lost in a sea of gourmet disapproval.
Love,
Casey
Well, I didn’t know I was going to take out a second mortgage…
[ No Comments ] Posted on 01.23.08 in college, complaints, letters
Dear Civil War Professor,
Seriously, dude. What gives? We have to buy not one, not two, but eight books for your class. I know that your newfound gig at a major university is exciting and all, but you should remember that we get just over $200 to buy textbooks. So far, I’ve gotten six of the required texts for your class. You know how much I paid? One hundred and sixty bucks.
I know that may seem like chump change to you, pal, but that’s a good amount of green here on the up-and-coming college student’s budget. And what gets me is the fact that most of the assigned readings I was forced to pick up at Goering’s are really, really old. Like, out of copyright old. Meaning, of course, that I could access these stupid things on the Internet and save my cash for more important things, like Hot Pockets and Tang.
Angrily yours,
Casey