Vasectomies are a safe and common procedure that over 50 million men have had. But if I have anything to say about it, the Phillie Phanatic will never be one of them. As someone with a taste for the finer things in life and an affinity for the exotic, I am constantly on the search for new animals whose pelts I can use to make exquisite clothing. When I showed up to my high school reunion wearing a pair of pleated chinos made from 100% Furby skin, you can bet your bottom dollar that nobody was disrespectfully calling me my old nickname, “flat-ass” (the chinos are super padded in the rump area, so they did it ironically and with respect).

Thankfully, money is no object, leaving me free to explore the vast and unethical world of animal hide fashion. That’s just one of the benefits of owning the largest talent agency for Tony Soprano impersonators. (My eyes are ALWAYS bloodshot from how much cigar smoke my Tony’s blow in my face. NONE of our competitors can say the same!) This line of work has allowed me to purchase some of my most prized articles of clothing, including a jacket made from Smokey the Bear’s jeans, jeans made from McGruff the Crime Dog’s jacket, and a CatDog skin that I use as a fur stole.

The only thing missing from my superlative array of fine attire is a luxurious coat made from the skin of Philiadelphia’s Phanatic. Obtaining one would solve all my problems; I’d be shocked if the jury convicted me of embezzlement at my trial next week were I to show up wearing that gaudy garment. They’d be so stunned by its beauty that they’d rise to their feet, give me a standing ovation, and find me not guilty for the reason that a far greater crime would be to make a man with as impeccable taste as I wear an orange jumpsuit.

I still remember the press conference the Phillie Phanatic gave in which he announced his intention to get a vasectomy. I nearly collapsed onto my Shrek-skin chaise lounge. Of course, I purchased my ticket to the surgery, which will be performed live at Citizens Bank Park, and I plan to heckle the doctors with boos and jeers in the hope that it will break their concentration, but I fear that it will be no use. Instead of a first pitch, there will be a first incision to be performed by American hero Sully Sullenberger. With a guest like that energizing the stadium right at the start, I don’t see how this surgery could be any other than a resounding success.

In all the soul searching that the Phillie Phanatic undoubtedly did while trying to decide whether or not to get snipped, did he even once consider how it would affect the global fur trade? Either he didn’t or he did and was perfectly fine harming the mom and pop businesses that rely on this line of work to make ends meet. Both possibilities sicken me.

Leaving me with no other option, I was forced to stigmatize the very concept of a vasectomy in an attempt to dissuade the Phillie Phanatic from getting one. Ordinarily, I have absolutely no problem with them. In fact, I’ve gotten dozens myself. But in the pursuit of things, and very cool things at that, sometimes it’s important to abandon our values. Some of the numerous lies I told the Phanatic to manipulate him were: “I actually don’t think they do those anymore,” “none of your pants will fit the same after you get a vasectomy,” (an admittedly ineffective form of duplicity to mislead someone who does not wear pants), and “I can just cast a spell for you. It’ll do the same thing as a vasectomy, but it’s way cheaper.” Unfortunately, nothing convinced him. He is dead set on getting the surgery.

And as if things couldn’t get any worse, I just got word that my Tony Soprano impersonators are going on strike because they don’t want to pay for their own crucifix necklaces anymore. All I want in life is to to be blessed with the knowledge to continually outsmart the IRS and for the Phillie Phanatic to have unprotected sex that results in a pregnancy, but I guess that’s too much to ask. Whatever. I’m just lucky that my Chester Cheeto sneakers arrived today (they’re not removable shoes, they’re a part of his body that I’ve turned into removable shoes). If it weren’t for that, today would have sucked complete ass.


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