Lenny Dykstra’s blues

The schadenfreude mill has caught up to another one.

More chaw means more forearms, kids.

In spring 2008 I read, fascinated, a New Yorker article about how my childhood hero Lenny Dykstra had become a multimillionaire businessman wheeler-and-dealer extraordinaire on account of being, well, Lenny Dykstra.  He bought Wayne Gretzky’s old house in LA for $18 million.  He rode around in luxury jets.  He did lunch at the St. Regis hotel in Manhattan.  He yelled at umps at his kid’s little league game.  Living in the Third World at the time, I distinctly remember thinking, I have got to get home.  If Lenny can get rich, for chrissakes, anyone can.

Turns out ole Lenny wasn’t another Warren Buffet with oncoming mouth cancer.  When the bubble burst last year, Lenny lost everything.  He’s now declared bankruptcy.  He owes his creditors a cool $31 million.  The little league umps ignore him.

Ah, Lenny, if you weren’t such a crass, pompous asshole (really, read the article), we could feel sorry for you for being so dumb.  As it is … well, good luck with that whole bankruptcy thing.

Funny, that the lying liar Jim Cramer was a big fan of Lenny’s.  And that almost a year to the day after the feature on Lenny came out, that lying liar would be outed as such on national TV.

That interview is funny like being punched in the gut is funny.  This, however, is just good old-fashioned snarkastic humor.  As is this:

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