"It's baseball time again. While I'm a nerd who spends most of my life in the dark, in movie theaters or my own bedroom where I have a huge plasma screen playing "2001" at least twice a day, I do LOVE BASEBALL!
"Well, not the game. Just the big athletic men swinging their bats! I've been to Yankee Stadium and Citi Field (where the Mets now play, having knocked down Shea Stadium).
"I have my own SHRINE at my Weehawken home, where I have posters, memorabilia, and bright lights that simulate an afternoon of zunshine (er, excuse me, SUNSHINE) at the ballpark.
"I took 7,000 photos at EACH stadium, and I've paid a fortune for many baseball stars to stand next to me for a picture. But above, you see my PRIZE.
"Yes, in this my basement sports memorabilia shrine, I've got posters, photos, AND on display in its own case, Mookie Wilson's jockstrap.
"This is not just ANY jockstrap he wore during his career. It's the actual jockstrap Mookie wore when he swung too hard, barely connected, and dribbled a weak ground ball, that luckily went BETWEEN FIRST BASEMAN BILL BUCKNER'S LEGS for the World Series game VICTORY in 1986!
"How can I be sure it's the REAL jockstrap? I bought it on EBAY and those sellers never lie. EBAY cares about its bidders! Also, the bidder sent a "Certificate of Authenticity" he signed himself!
"Yes! What you're seeing is me grinning my idiot grin and showing off that jockstrap that lovingly hugged Mookie's strong, muscular butt, and cupped his big black cock and his impressive balls! WOW!
"I got a mannequin for it, and put this item under glass and it's sealed. Oh, now and then I open the trap door and inhale a nice sniff. The item hasn't been washed, of course. Even after all these years there's a faint odor of man sweat. Gosh, a pudgy virgin like me owns an item like THIS. It helps me keep that goofy grin on my face as I waddle into total impotence.
"How my dull life will be brightened this summer when I go to the stadium a few more times, and of course go to more MEMORABILIA SHOWS with my SISTER! As to losing my mind recently by shaving my client Shauna's twat for her, well, excuse a silly old man a pathetic fling at heterosexuality. As many a Humbert Humbert can tell you, there comes a time when you, well, "walk down Savile's row," and obsess about youth, the youth you no longer have. At least I tried to keep it legal and straight. I admit, I'm no manager, and I had no business making all those promises JUST to get a chance to shave Shauna's twat and maybe do something more.
"Somehow, I never quite lost my virginity with Shauna. Maybe it was how I couldn't get an erection because she kept squealing in horror. Or was she just covering another Taylor Swift song in that stepped-on-a-cat's-tail voice of hers?
Something always stopped me. Call it conscience. Call it flatulence and incontinence. I know now to be content with holding the shoulder of a D-list has-been, cherishing photos of tombstones, holding up an ice cream bar to show how I can live dangerously by adding more weight to my already dangerously huge waistline, and...yes...owning MOOKIE'S JOCKSTRAP!
"I hope to be buried in it. Maybe I should try it on. It's a jockstrap, after all. If I start to shit, the crap will fly right out without even touching the straps! I'll try and see if I can get that photographer Cilla Blackledge to take a picture. I hope she won't think it too rude!"
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