More Anger Lobbed C.C.'s Way

No, I'm not done yet.  You will rue this day, C.C.!  You will rue it when you wake up one morning and your team, if it can be called that (more like a bunch of mercenaries), is in last place, you're dating Madonna and the Steinbrenners are openly regretting your contract in the press the day after any start where you give up more than two runs.  You will also read in the papers that it's your fault the team couldn't add offense when the yanks are failing to produce runs in a slump.  When it gets you too down, just go to an ATM and check your balance.  If it's worse than bad take out about 10 grand and jerk off on it, because God knows you're too fucking fat to roll around on it in bed without tearing most of the bills.  Things could have been different, C.C.  I thought you were different man,  but you're just a buster!  I wouldn't even try to visit Vallejo without bodyguards in the future if I were you. 

O.K.  I think I'm done now.

C.C., you stink, and I hate you!

--guess not