junior writes letter to Commissioner Bud Selig about Pete Rose

[0007]

Commissioner Bud Selig
Baseball Hall of Fame
25 Main Street
Cooperstown, NY 13326

January 6, 2004

Hey Bud:

Laura just fixed another pitcher of Tequila-Tang-Torpedoes and got to reading me some parts of Pete Rose's book My Prison Without Bars. Right off the bat (get it? tee-hee) let me say that I'm hotter than an El Paso streetwalker in August (boy, those are some fond memories!) over that there title he used. That was going to be what I called my book about what a pain in the rear it has been since I publicly told everyone I wasn't drinking no more.

Anyway, over his life Pete has done an awful lot for the Great American Pastime. And that, as you know, is something close to my heart because I, in my own small, but expensive way have tried my best to contribute to that fabulous enterprise, too. I am, of course, talking about the cherished pastime of lying to the public. For 14 wonderful years, Petey never let any nosy, smart-ass geeky reporter throw him off his game. Not once did he give in to journalistic trickery and act like a pussy by telling the mealy-mouthed truth. As America's most accomplished fib-aficionado, I take my Rangers cap off to him.

Having, myself, had to endure the tremendous effort it takes to never betray the treasured art of fiction on the fly (get it? tee-hee), by keeping track of and staying true to scores (get it? tee-hee) of lies, fabrications and other assorted made-up stuff, I can attest to the so-called fact that it gets a whole lot easier the more you do it. While standing steadfast by one little lie about gambling like Pete and his mentor Bill Bennett may seem minor league to a guy like me, I can still appreciate another player who is good at the game.

Now I know you are getting lots of pressure to reinstate Pete and get his scrappy bubble butt into the Hall of Fame. But you can tell him from me that he is already in my Hall of Fibbing Fame, Bud. And it's time you got off your high horse, ditched your silly fetish about honesty and let him into that baseball one, too. It's like my mother always wondered: "Why doesn't Pete Rose use the 'I'm just trailer trash' defense?" Hells bells, it's worked for me and I'm worth bazillions of dollars!

As I see it, you have about five years before I get one of Daddy's rich friends to buy me your job. After that, me and my bestest pal Darryl Strawberry will be fast-tracking every fellow liar, boozer and blow-sniffer into the Hall of Fame -- so watch your back.

Your President,