What Are They Paying Jay Horowitz For, Anyway?

Posted in Baseball, History's Great Hook-Ups at 12:32 pm by

Despite my heartfelt plea yesterday, the tabloid jackals just won’t cut Captain Red Ass any slack. Chin up, Paul. It could be worse. You could be Scott Van Pelt (note to everyone at Bristol U : the Human Whoopie Cushion’s wedding photos are totally fair game, and yes, marrying a horse is illegal in New York State).

Metal Mike’s homecoming
and a terrific night for David Wright and Carlos Beltran are somewhat overshadowed this morning by the news that Darryl Strawberry will not participate in the celebrations to commemorate the 20th Anniversary of the Mets’ last World Series win.

No Straw, No HoJo, no Davey. I’d hazard a guess that Wally Backman’s invite might’ve gotten lost in the mail. If nothing else, at least we know for certain that Sid Fernandez will be somewhere in the 5 Boroughs that weekend.

Dan from Lone Star Mets, take it from me and the Bodog Board Of Directors — there’s nothing funny about irresponsible gambling.

2 responses to “What Are They Paying Jay Horowitz For, Anyway?”

  1. Joel says:

    I think the transvestite you call your partner would take umbrage with your illegal-horse marriage comment.

    Glad to see your site continues to remain so virtuously above tabliod-esque mudslinging and name-calling.

  2. GC says:


    I know you’re not a very sophisticated guy, but TV’s are not necessarily bestiality enthusiasts. If you’re gonna persist at tossing around such tired, inaccurate stereotypes, I’ll have to insist you take a little “time out” from posting here, at least until the next time Will Leitch is disparaged (at which point, you’re more than welcome to reappear, on cue).

    The above photograph is an example of what happened to someone who cut off my celebrity pop star wife in traffic. I know, he had to make up some kind of cover story about getting his ass kicked by Jack White (as if!) just to save face, but now you know the real deal. I’d hate to think how she might respond to being called a transvestite, but given that you’re typically unwilling to put your name on your witless entries, we’ll probably never find out.

    “Glad to see your site continues to remain so virtuously above tabliod-esque mudslinging and name-calling.”

    Thank you. I appreciate your praise, but I’m really trying to strive for something tabloid-esque And where name-calling is concerned, I’m only getting warmed up. The Van Pelt thing on DS was beyond pathetic. That the Worldwide Leader’s legion of would-be sex offenders are fair game for public ridicule is tough to dispute, but nailing SVP (whom until now, has kept his name off the police blotter) for having the termerity — oh my fucking god — to leave a girl an answering machine message, isn’t just desperate, it’s the ultimate in calling the kettle Shirely Temple Black. SVP can be a THOUSAND TIMES more loserish than dorks with MySpace pages and people who admit to knowing “Swingers” dialogue verbatim combined. But at least he’s not getting hitched to Ruffian, nor is he pretending he’s any more talented than the hacktastic Arash Markazi.

    For the third time, PJ, does the Human Whoope Cushion’s ejaculate taste like Spicy Crunchwrap Supreme? If you’re in danger of an overdose, please, contact someone who can help.

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