Following yesterday’s fire sale trade that saw the Marlins shed all-star talent and loads of payroll, dropping their pre-arbitration financial commitment to a league low $16 million, the Marlins ownership quickly held a a press conference to address some concerns and unveil the Marlins new slogan.
Shambling out of their underground caves, Jeffrey Loria and David Samson, their skin hanging loose around their faces as if they were wearing skinsuits of some kind, sat down in front of a large assembly of press to address these issues.
(Because of some adult language, the rest of this post will be behind the jump. Click through to read on.)
Jeffrey Loria, clearing his throat and taking a sip from a water bottle containing the tears of a newborn child, spoke first.
“Hello and thank you all for coming today. Before we go any further, I would like to just say that the Miami Marlins are not interested in a fire sale, these trades were done for the betterment of the baseball team.”
Loria and Samson paused for a moment before breaking into laughter and giving each other a high five.
“No, seriously,” Loria continued, tears streaming down, “You should have seen the look on your faces. That was killer. Anyway, no, what David and I really wanted to come and say was ‘Go fuck yourself, Miami.’ That’s the new slogan for the team and that’s how we feel.”
Samson then took the microphone.
“Oh man, is it nice to finally just admit that. Actually, the inspiration for mine and Jeffrey’s involvement with the Marlins comes from Ocean’s 11. Have you guys seen that movie? Really awesome, Bernie Mac, right? Wow. But after seeing how those awesome guys could take a casino for all its worth, we thought, hey, why not take a baseball team for all its worth? You gotta admit, we’ve been pretty successful.”
The two then fell back into a fit of giggling, spooning blood pudding into their mouths to quiet themselves.
“And a giant thanks goes to Bud Selig for, without him, none of this would have been possible,” Loria said, his eyes burning red. “Who would have thought that not only would I be allowed to kill off one team, but I’d also get to take over another one? And keep doing it? Just look at us. We plead poverty for years, paying far less in salary than we got in revenue sharing. And then, and then,” Loria continued, his sharp and pointed teeth gleaming in the light of the flashbulbs, “we got the city of Miami to pay for the stadium.”
“Kaboom!” shouted Samson.
“We didn’t even bother to deal with parking, allowing downtown neighborhoods to be a gridlocked mess as fans attempted in vain to find a place to park. And for why?”
“Go fuck yourself, Miami, that’s why!” Samson and Loria shouted at the same time, tearing their Armani shirts, revealing intricate occult carvings on their chests.
Loria continued, “Oh yeah, and that home run monstrosity in center field? The taxpayers paid for that! I don’t even like it, I just wanted to see how far you’d let me go. And guess what, you let me go pretty damn far.”
“Go fuck yourself, Miami!” yelled Samson.
“Sure, we had to shell out a little cash last season, you know, rally the troops, but don’t think for one moment that wasn’t in our nefarious scheme. As the great Bane once said, ‘There can be no true despair without hope.’ We gave you hope, Miami, and then we slowly feasted on your juicy, bloated innards.” Loria let out a laugh that didn’t seem to come from this plane of existence.
“To get back on topic,” Samson added, “we want the fans to know we are committed to staying in Miami. Until we’ve emptied your wallets and left you mere shells of a human being, unable to find hope or beauty in anything around you.”
“We also have some fantastic items for sale in the fan shop, both here at the stadium and online.”