This is the End
My only friend, the end.
Thanks for the repressed memories, Ken. But this was supposed to be it for you. The end of the line. And we wouldn't have to deal with your lineups, your lack of passion, your painfully unlistenable radio interviews, your in-game naps, or your complete inability to ever once put your finger on the pulse of the ballgame. Not that I don't like a manager with cameltoe, it's just that...well....uh....fuck you, you suck.
You singlehandedly cost us the playoffs the last two seasons, but the silver lining was that you would be going somewhere else next year (preferably floating somwhere in the East River). Or you could just go back to the place where you were born: Moron-ville, Pennsylvania.
Seriously, how perfect is it that you were born in Moron-ville? I think it's perfect.
What's that? Oh. Well, you're still a moron. And if there were a Moron-Ville, I guarantee you'd have been born there.
Anyway, this was supposed to be it. You would be gone, and Oakland fans might be able to reasonably think about making the playoffs for a change. And now we have confirmation that the Oakland front office has made you an offer that should be thrown in the refuse.
Let me make one thing perfectly clear: This franchise will not make the playoffs as long as you are the manager. Your in-game management is a joke. Your leadership is even worse. And your lineups are the equivalent of eating too much chili when you can't get to a toilet and you accidentally get diarrhea all over your undies. You cost us wins. Because you're an asshole.
So do us a favor. Don't accept the offer. Ruin another franchise for a change. Make this be the end. You're not wanted here.