These panty-waist toddler touchers here at...whuss' the name? Kicking Sally Tolbert? want me to break down this here new slate of footbaw' games for their readers. What's wrong, fellas? Eyes gone strained from eye-fucking the guys who change your oil in your Prius?
Call yerselves the Gay Mafia, does ya? Mafia's for the Eyeties, boys. Back up the sissy sailboat to Pier Get a Clue. You're too white to be that dumb.
Okay. Here we go. The best of each week of the coming season of the NFL, or as I like to call it, the Nappy Faggot Lapdance.
Obvious choice here is the Saints and Colts. Peyton seems like an upstanding fella, if a little light in the loufah. The one that really runs my gun is that Reggie Bush. Did you see that coon shake he gave to the Bears in the playoffs last year? Disgraceful, if you ask me. He reminds me of one of those bushmen.
Nigh Jets at Baltimore. Kinda personal obligation here. That sanctimonious child-touching priest Cal Ripken Jr. blew off my show but I ticked off a few thin-skinned, ahem, UPSTANDING AFRICAN AMERICANS in New Jersey, so I'm throwing 'em a bone. But I've heard all I need to know about that Ray Lewis. Just like the blacks to commit all the crimes.
And while I'm on it, who the fuck has aged worse than Cal Ripken Jr.? He's been out of the game for about six years and he looks like Marlon Brando right before he died.
Tampa Bay at St. Louis. Only because by this time Chris Simms and Jeff Garcia will be well acquainted and we can watch them scissor each other on the sidelines. It's in a dome, so they won't get their underroos soiled with anything other than santorum.
Pittsburgh at Arizona. Something about a team meeting its old coach or some hooey I could give three-eighths of a fuck about. I'm just upset that Gov. Bill Richardson turned down his appearance on me show. I know he represents New Mexico but that's close enough. I'm pulling for the Steelers here. That'll show that greasy fucking Julio.
Detroit at Washington. Two black towns here, so expect the government have to come in and bail one, if not both of these teams out. It's not my fault they can't have decent schools and...
Ok, sorry boys. That's Sharpton on the phone again. He's got some hair up his ass 'bout something. Lord only knows. I'll have to let you guys swish your way through the rest of this mess. You should probably get all them womenfolk do it, after they pasted your narrow asses in that wager. I mean, so long as none of 'em is of the dusky persuasion.