Via Johnette Howard -
Well, there they go again in Boston. How do I say this nicely? What a bunch of freaking nut jobs. Try the decaf tea, will you? Even if they are three hours away from New York City, you could hear all their shrieking yesterday from here: What if Tom Brady can’t play against the Giants in the Super Bowl? What if the Patriots end up 18 and Oh No? First there was the Bloody Sock. And now this: The Boot.
This is just another example of why Boston must be stopped.
Now before you have an aneurysm or mail me some rant saying I belong to some secret sleeper cell of Giants fans, let me qualify this by saying I’m not even from New York – I’m from Pittsburgh, I’m a live-and-let-live kinda girl. Even an emotionally uninvested observer like me has had enough of all of ‘em – those our-stuff-doesn’t-stink Patriots, those smack-talking, crown-our-butts Celtics, who haven’t even won anything yet. And don’t even get me started on all those infernal “Look at us! Look at us!” Red Sox groupies.
They conveniently forget how Red Sox Nation had grown into the most simpering, neuroses-ridden group of fans anyone had seen until their boys in knickers passed around that pregame bottle of Jack Daniels, then cowboyed up to finish off the Yankees in the 2004 ALCS after falling behind three games to none.
(Fast joke: How could you tell a long-suffering Cubs fan from a long-suffering Boston fan? A: The Cubs fans are the ones with a sense of humor.) So enough with Boston’s teams. The whole stinking lot of them.