Discarded Jose Canseco Finger Tells All

Canseco dog fingerHOLLYWOOD, CA – We live in a digital age they say, but for me they don’t know just how right they are. I am Jose Canseco’s finger, and I led a pretty charmed life until the big fool shot me off last month. I once held the bats that hit over 460 home runs! I was wrapped around the leather steering wheels of speeding Ferraris! Caressed beautiful women! Held the hypo-needles that stuck the butts of future Hall of Famers! Typed the keys that led to best sellers! I thought the lowest moment came a few years ago when I stooped to get involved in a Los Angeles valley old man baseball league… but it turns out I was wrong.

First I get shot off – an apparent “accident” while cleaning a gun. How I would like to believe that, but I have my suspicions about the rest of the fingers. They were always jealous of me. That was shocking enough, but then I was hastily sewn back on, like grafting a branch on a fruit tree. Abomination. I could’ve told them this wouldn’t work, but I can’t talk and the jerks who invented sign language never thought to make a one-finger version….except, of course, the universal one-finger sign, and I tried vehemently showing them this, but my plea was ignored. Well look what happens when you play God…and then go play poker! Jose thought he had a strong hand, but it was only as strong as its weakest link, if I may mix metaphors (sue me, I’ll give you the same sign I gave those quacks), and without realizing it he bumped the raise with me, and was literally left with a bump at the knuckle. That’s called sweetening, and souring, the pot. He could’ve gone all in, but then what would he hold his cards with?

Jose’s forearm may have had its special “bash” with Mark McGwire back in the good old days, but I had my own kind of bash with Madonna back then as well, know what I’m sayin’? Hey-ooh, gimme a little finger bump! Leave me hanging? Just cause I’m a little smelly, is that it? NOT COOL. It’s called necrosis…yes, I’m a zombie digit. I’m going to crawl across the countryside, inch worming my way, forever haunting Jose now like Michael Caine’s hand in that movie, I forget what it’s called. I could be slithering through your back yard right now.

Oh, what I would give to wrap around a smooth wooden bat handle again, the cool metal of a dumbell, even the plastic plunger of a syringe. I would love to stick myself in a dyke and disappear. We live in a digital age, however, and Jose is a slave to it. The other nine fingers, my former friends, fingered me good, and now they can’t help but dance all over Jose’s Twitter account – as you saw above. Jose jokes about “finger snacks.” Nobody calls them that. Now they say there’s a video out there, which I imagine would be like sticking a finger down one’s throat. If Kim Kardashian’s butt can crash the internet, maybe Jose Canseco’s finger can give it a good scratching?

Oh, it’s not always just about me:

A man who’ll give you the finger anytime, “Grinding Ax” Walter Hynes, tomorrow.

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About West Coast Craig 226 Articles
West Coast Craig reports from Hollywood with an endearingly laid back style. A happily married father of two little boys, WCC has an avocado tree in his yard, plays the hot corner in a "Valley" hardball league and always manages to take cool sports-related mini road-trips, often with his immediate clan. He hails from Oneonta, NY but has been "So very L.A." for twenty years, so his sports teams are the Yankees AND the Dodgers, the Pittsburgh Steelers, the L.A. Lakers and the Colorado Avalanche/Quebec Nordiques. WCC loves bacon-wrapped hotdogs and can touch his heel and his ear... with his hand.