Apparently, Cliff Lee is the Yankees’ Daddy.

Have you ever been really excited to show off your new apartment to some friends, and then some guy shows up, beats the crap out of you, poops on your couch and then lights your bed on fire? That’s what the Yankees feel like today after what Cliff Lee did to them. In the Steinbrenners’ first chance to show off their billion dollar monument to being whores (and taxpayer money) on the world wide scale, the Phillies spoiled the party by dominating the Yanks on both sides of the ball and ruining the return of Aura and Mystique (Schilling’s favorite strippers) to the Series. He shut down the best offensive team money can buy (one run on six hits in a complete game), while also giving the atomic finger to a former teammate who got all the attention even while Lee was winning an AL Cy Young.

Just Walk Away. You Are Not Good.

And it felt great for me. Every Yankees fan I’ve seen today looks like somebody shit in their cereal. Douche-Rod, who had switched bodies with David Ortiz circa 2004 for most of the playoffs, was back to his old self, putting up an 0-4 night with three Ks. Teixeira was almost as bad, coming one K short of matching Rodriguez in complete uselessness (thought Rodriguez still has bigger tits). The entire team was shut down by Lee, who has done nothing but dominate since coming over in the Indians fire sale at the deadline.

That Was A Great Pitch......... For a Camel To Jizz On.

On the other side of the ball, Sabathia, the $161 Million man, got hammered by Chase Utley twice and after he was out, it took five relievers to get 6 outs, while giving up four more runs. He missed his location and became the first left handed pitcher to give up two homers to a lefty hitter not named Babe Ruth. On the second shot he also clearly shook off Posada twice, proving that it was his own shitty idea to throw a pitch right down the pipe to Utley.

Feel The Awesomeness.

The secret to Utley’s power is not in his hours of practice, or his tremendous ability, but in his magical hair. If you were watching last night after his second homer, you saw how majestic it was. It looked like something that you will see kids wearing on Saturday night, made of rubber and not moving unless you take a jackhammer to it. I don’t know what was in it (SMC suggested camel semen, and he had to ask some chick how to spell semen), but whatever it was, they should have used it to hold together Yankee Stadium’s crumbing foundation.

Tonight a lonely Red Sox nation (and Phillies fans, if anyone actually cares about them) turns its eyes to an old friend. Pedro Martinez, who did not in fact die after the 2004 season, will take the hill tonight in the new Asshole of the Universe, and try to give his Daddy a beating of his own. If you are wondering whether or not it is O.K. to root for Pedro, who some felt betrayed by because he took more money and more years from the Mets after 2004, the answer is yes. Pedro changed everything for us. He helped make it cool to be a Sox fan again, and made at least one out of every five games definite appointment viewing. Add to that the fact that he is playing the Yankees and will have to deal with 45,000 effheads yelling “Who’s Your Daddy” and that the oil in his hair (You’ve Gotta Let Your Soul Glo) could heat the North End for the winter, and every Sox fan should be rooting for Pedro like the old days.

Go Pedro. Go Sox.

108 Days.

Done.