Monday, February 25, 2008
Why Do You Even Bother?
Honestly. I'm running out of lines of bullshit to feed you. I'm not even going to take the time to lie anymore.
From now on, instead of holding press scrums or doing proper interviews, I'm going to walk onto the field without pants. That way the choice is yours: you can either kiss my ass or blow me. It's all the same to me. Whatever gets your nipples hard Nancy.
Furthermore, once I've gone back on whatever lie I conjured last week and we have some legitimate news to announce, I'm going to send out one of my kids. Those little peckerheads got the old man's charm, and they've been taught since birth to spit on the swine with the notepads. They'll shake you down too. Last year they scored me Griffin's watch. Fat fuck.
So yeah. I brought in a low risk free agent on a minor league deal. One day they're trying to leverage our mild disinterest into a multi-year deal somewhere else and the next they're polishing my taint for the chance to fetch me coffee. That's just how big my nuts are. I'd say I piss all over them at least once a week.