You’re simply the best, Carl, you better than all the rest, I’m so speechless by your bright, shining light I plagiarized Tina Turner.
You two make a lovely couple.
I’m not being facetious. Those who know me well know I adore Tina Turner, and I cried real girl tears, not those man tear duct farts I’m used to, when the real her came out at the end of her biopic, not that Angie Bassett was bad, mind you, she’s a goddess in her own right.
Let me take this moment to extend my congratulations on your second year in Boston! Congratulations, you’re almost there. That wrist is doing dandy, I’m positive.
Fuck John Henry. The Nation hates authority, we’re the lovable losers, we pander no BODY, including that flimsy concept called winning. Play balls out for us, Carl, not FUCKING JOHN HENRY. We welcome you with open arms, Tessie and all that and pints o’fakeamerican Guinmess beer!
Cheers!
I’m appointing myself the president of the Carl Crawford CONFIDENCE SHIRT CLUB!
Every game you play awesome, I’ma post a photo of one of my vast collections of confidence shirts, ugly shirts I know will still allow me to cack the ladies.
Let’s do this Carl. My closet awaits.
Nation, who’s with me?