Hello! I'm Peyton Manning, quarterback of the Indianapolis Colts, and I have a special message for all of you out there that don't like me:
Go fuck yourself.
Fuck you long and hard and with the depth of a thousand oceans. Fuck you sideways. Fuck you upside down. Fuck you hanging from a jungle gym. Fuck you in. Fuck you out. Fuck you with a snow shovel.
I'd also like to extend this message out to all you New Englanders out there. Fuck you. Fuck your weather. Fuck your stupid accent. Fuck your goatee. It looks idiotic. And FUCK Boston. Fuck your shitty traffic. Fuck all your elite college students, half of whom end up becoming ski instructors. Fuck Storrow Drive. Fuck the Red Sox. Take your little Red Sox hat, wedge the brim up nice and tight, and shove right up your ass. Fuck the Big Dig. No one else cares how long it took, you whiny bitches. Fuck Matt Damon. Fuck Dennis Leary. Fuck Logan. Fuck you people bitching about Logan.
In fact, fuck all the little town in Massachusetts that no one cares about. Oh, you're from Natick? Well, fuck Natick. Fuck Winchest-ah. Fuck Reve-ah. Fuck Scituate. Fuck them all. Fuck your old colonial houses. Fuck your foliage. Fuck your lobster. And fuck all the surrounding states. Fuck Vermont. All you assholes make is syrup. Fuck Maine. Fuck LL Bean AND Poland Spring. Fuck Connecticut, because while you have lovely rural areas, your cities are crime-infested shit stains on the face of the Earth. Fuck Rhode Island. Fuck Brown. Fuck people from Newport who like to sail. I hope Great White plays a stadium concert in Providence. Fuck New Hampshire. Live free or die? I'll take the latter for you dipshits.
Fuck you, Bill Simmons. Oh, you like the Manning Face? Is that the face I make when I fuck your team like a convict fresh outta prison? Hope you liked it. And fuck you, Boomer Esiason. Guess who's not his generation's Dan Marino anymore? Know who my generation's Boomer Esiason is? Jake fucking Delhomme. So go get fucked.
And fuck American Express (MasterCard fucking rules.)
Oh, and fuck you, blogosphere. What, you think I'd forget about you? Fuck Deadspin. And fuck you too, Kissing Suzy Kolber. Oh, you think you're exempt? Think you're just making funny little dick jokes? Take your dick jokes, go into a corner, and stick them up your urethra. Fuck you, Big Daddy Drew, you big masturbating motherfucker. Fuck you, Captain Caveman, nee Matt Ufford. You say you have sex with all the ladies, but I know damn well you have more beards than a playoff hockey team. Fuck you, Monday Morning Punter. You're from fucking OHIO. Fuck you, Unsilent Majority. Nice screen name, douchebag. Unsilent isn't even a word.
Fuck you Falco, even if you're dead. Fuck you, Ape. Nice MS Paint skills, you fucking kindergartener. And fuck you, flubby. I hated that Robin Williams movie about you. You fucking suck.
Again, fuck you all. I know all of you said I was a choker. Well, guess what you can all choke on? My enormous cock. That's right. It's true. We all know any guy with a goofy face is hung like a goddamn Genoa salami. So if you don't mind, I'm gonna open up my fly and drag mine around the room for a bit. Because all of you can kiss my enormous white pasty ass. I fucking won, and you fucking didn't. It's a new era, bitches. You get to deal with Bitter Peyton now. Hope you like the taste of my balls, douchebags. Because you'll be sucking on them for a while.
I'm gonna go have a beer and bang my hotass wife. I fully expect you to be fucking yourself when I get back.