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Section 39, It’s Time…

…to remind everybody just what being a Bleacher Creature is all about. You Know Who is coming into Our House. You heard the way the Feckless Fenway Faithful worked over A-Rod last week. THAT’S OUR JOB!

It’s time to give our hometown team a wake-up call. A long, loud, lewd call to arms. You guys need to bring the noise pain. We need to infuse The Zoo into this crew. Michelle’s gone as far as agreeing to wear the dreaded “B” on her noggin as payment for Beantown bucks to help build an Anti-Al JaJerkoff TV statio in Iraq. I’ve endured Metsies–Metsies, God Damn It!–giving me crap because of the way This Year’s Model has been sleepwalking. So this weekend I expect you guys to go over the top; I’m talking summonses, people! I’m talking scaring the shit out of the freaking eagle, never mind the Caveman and Kapler (or Crespo, or whoever the hell they put in right field).

I’m talking crazy enough that the team and the Sleeping Psycho up in the owner’s box get the message: This Shit Stops, NOW!

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