Dear Philadelphia Fans: Tase Yo'selves Before You Wreck Yo'selves

It seemed a bit excessive to zap the towel-waving teenage scamp at CBP, but the black hearts of Phillies fans really could use some seizure-causing high voltage right now.

It's a shame that young Steve Consalvi bears a resemblance to every dopey kid you went to Kiwanis camp with and has a guilt-ridden Costco mom, but good on the team for bringing out the heavy artillery. I'm a Phillies fan — a loathsome Philly fan, if you will — but, goddamn, people, this new breed of dickhead entitlement born of the Phillies' recent baseball dominance is really making me long for the halcyon days of Ricky Otero. Remember when Red Sox fans turned from obnoxious lovable losers to insufferable? Yeah, we're zooming past those pink hat-wearing shitbirds at warp speed. The team's bandwagon has become overrun with Tubby the Pukers and field-dashing DJ Greaseboners and somewhere it has to stop. So tase these fuckers back to Bristol or Norristown or South Jersey or New Hope but keep them out of Citizens Bank Park, Citifield, or even the poor Nationals' stadium, which, if you attended Opening Day, resembled a Northeast Philly meet-up for Goateed Men With Cutoff Shirt Sleeves Who Like To Piss In Public. (Yes, that's why, on such a gorgeous afternoon, the cherry blossoms were wet.)

Every team's fan base is subject to bad-apple infiltration but Phillies fans are gaining new AZZZZZZZ-hole members at a remarkable clip since that glorious October of 2008. And this club needs its own personal bouncer and, yeah, arm those boys with tasers and nightsticks for the time being, if that's what it takes just to keep things civil.

Seriously — RELAX. We're good now. Let's not barf all over everyone's good time (or teenage daughters) and, please, don't ever make me agree with Curt Schilling again.

Exhale...

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