YO VINNIE,
She left. It's not so important that she left me for you. What is important is that you know how much this single thing has fucked up my life. It's one thing when it's fun and games. It's another thing when it's real lives. Mine with my wife was one such life. Thanks a whole lot. Fucker. -- M. MILLER (by email)

IN HAPPIER TIMES: ANOTHER GODDAMNED BASEBALL GAME...WHILE HUBBY WONDERS "WHY...OH, WHY?!?!"

Dear MR. MILLER: Sometimes real life intrudes on our pleasant little idyll of THE AVENUE OF MACK. Sometimes our personal preferences elbow out all the fucking dick jokes. Sometimes a fucking dick digging through his wife's personal private shit discovers one of life's lessons a little long overdue: nature abhors a vacuum.

And because it's clear that you're no scientist lemme spell it out for you: an unfucked women who's as hot as your wife will get fucked as fast as you can say "Honey I got season tickets!...Again."

We ain't stolen your woman, sailor, you LOST her. And instead of bitching about her you should be sending us checks because we have done you the single best public service anyone could have done for you: introduced you to freedom.

And why do we keep saying WE?

Simple arithmetic, Lefty. Simple arithmetic.

So while I'm sad that you fucked up a good thing by demanding fidelity from a damned fine woman. And I'm sad that by proxy you won't be buying me anymore jewelry. I'm NOT sad that YOUR life was fucked up since it seemed it was already that, at least, well back when you decided on Giants' games instead of fucking your wife.

Hope this helps.