It was a dark and stormy night, perhaps somewhere in the world; however, in my environs the unblocked sunlight radiated from our nearest star and penetrated through the depleted ozone layer of the Earth’s atmospheric shell (for it is on this planet that our scene lies) before gently reflecting off the ecru walls surrounding my cubicle and onto a computer screen which hadn’t been cleaned for several months. In honor of one of the the best known examples of superbly horrendous writing from the 19th century, I may have found its rival for the 21st century. In particular, I have found a writing sample so bad that it can only be called a masterpiece. Fashioned as a countdown of the most terrible New York Yankees trades, the piece reads like the most terrible countdown of NYY trades instead.