Angry Ward Wednesday: Yankees Smell

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Smells like a Billy Crystal Whore House

BRONX, NY – I was riding the electric sewer (the subway, for those of you who don’t live in NYC) last Friday night, a bit bleary-eyed from too much spaghett and grape when I looked up to see an advertisement so horrifying that I almost vomited on the homeless gentleman who was vomiting on me. Apparently, the New York Yankees have a fragrance. (That’s perfume to you, f*cko.) What the Mickey Klutts is going on here? That’s it, there’s really no defending this, is there?

If you’re a Yankee fan and haven’t already jumped the clipper shipper due to, oh I don’t know, George Steinbrenner, Dave Winfield, five Billy Martin hires, four Billy Martin fires, the Yogi Berra exile, Roger Clemens,  A-Rod, The Joba Rules, John Sterling, the crappy new stadium, etc., isn’t this the straw that finally breaks Cole Hamel’s back? A New York Yankees Perfume? Can you really live with this? Hmm, maybe you can. Let’s see what’s in this delightful fragrance. Here’s the top secret formula.

Oscar Gamble Afro Sheen

Toilet Water from Tommy’s John

Mickey Mantle Liver Brine

A Whisper of Ed Whitson

Howie Spira Spittle

"Dey took my teef!"

Pulverized Kei Igawa Teeth

Kevin Brown Skidmark Shavings

A Pinch of Roy Whiteheads

Thurman Munson Testicle Sweat

Barfield Barf

Posada Pee

Catfish Oil

Vitamin C.C. (aka Pure Lard)

Classic 1973 baseball card

Joba Juice (see above)

White Wynegar

Hank Steinbrenner Nicotine Finger Clippings

El Dookie

Chicken Stanley Bouillon

Pepitone Pubes

Goose Gossage Mustache Granules

Surgeon General Warning: Mating with Hank May Cause Birth Defects

Holy Cow Milk

Essence of Mickey Rivers’ Cadillac After He Slept in it for a Week

Iron Horse Manure

and A Twist of Bob Lemon

Mmmm… So that’s what 27 Championships smells like. As Ron Burgundy would say, it’s a formidable scent. Babe Ruth probably wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it, but he’d certainly drink a bottle or two if given the chance. Anyway, we’re sure Yankee fans are lining up around the block to get their mitts on this sweet smell of success. Who knows, even if it doesn’t work out, maybe they made enough of the stuff to kill the stench of the A-Rod contract come 2017.

Lori Levine is back tomorrow. All her men wear English Leather, or they wear nothing at all.

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Wednesday: Angry Ward, who has admirers at the NY Times, is the quintessential angry sports fan but one exception... he's flat-out funny. And the angrier he gets, the more amusing his work becomes. Psychiatrists say, "Angry Ward's 'anger' is a direct result of "Bronx/Mets syndrome: growing up in the Bronx as a Mets fan." As if that weren't enough, his Minnesota North Stars abandoned him for Dallas, forcing him to embrace The Wild the way conservatives embrace Mitt Romney. While the Vikings tease him incessantly with flirtations of success, the Golden State Warriors, "Don't have a enough short, white angry guys but I don't dislike them... that much." A-Dubya is MTM's longest-tenured indentured servant, its Larry David and quite simply, The Franchise.

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