If we could introduce you to a man whose love of private jets, expensive watches, and financial shenanigans (to the point that Jim Cramer himself once said, “He’s one of the great ones in this business”) only barely outweighed his love for shocking language (“… nobody can call me a racist—I put three darkies and a bitch on my first four covers”), would you make room for him next to Bernie Madoff or settle for mob violence?

Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you the world’s finest example of the excesses that led to the financial woes we find ourselves in today, a man for whom the word “spearchucker” still somehow has relevance, and your leadoff man for the New York Mets, Lenny Dykstra! Thanks to a new article from GQ, we now know more about the man, the myth, the machine.

And it ain’t pretty, folks.

One of Dykstra’s former photo editors for his magazine, THE PLAYERS CLUB, spends 5,000 words detailing Lenny’s basic misunderstanding of finance, publishing, business, and human decency. (“Did you see the look on that fag’s face?”)

When he wasn’t trying to buy Willie Mays interviews with private jet rides or asking to use his employees’ credit cards, he was forcing his magazine staff to watch the “Real Sports” interview repeatedly or holding all-night “business meetings” with soda and ice cream.

And even though the magazine has gone months without publishing and the lawsuits are hip-deep, Dykstra couldn’t help but brag last year, “We’re recession-proof, baby!”

Dykstra responded late last night to the PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER that “everything in there is a lie”.  And the supposed problems with the magazine? “We’re not out of business; we’re kicking ass.” And so’s that mob outside, Lenny. Who knew Mitch Williams could predict your future?