Thursday, May 15, 2008

Somebody Call the Waaaahmbulance

I recently read this post that is simultaneously breathtaking in its criticism of Father and in that its author is likely an adult who sucessfully progressed through this country's education system.

Unfortunately there seemed to be an error with the website, because it is only accepting posts that agree with the author's perspective and dissenting comments don't seem to be getting through. My only guess is that my comment, pasted below, was so logistically sound and beautifully composed that it literally melted the server. Either that or Jets fans are panicked cowards who cannot suffer the indignity of having a genius-toddler strike so surgically at their inflated sense of self importance. That may stem from the fact that Jets fans routinely boo their own draft picks. Assclowns. I digress, here is my comment in full:

It's OK. Let it out. Your deep self loathing is nothing to be ashamed of. But it is necessary for me to show you the true source of your misery can only be found from within your franchise - Mo Lewis in particular. The Jets are responsible for the rise of Father - who sprung from the ashes like a Phoenix, leading a group of men into NFL lore and the arms of greater destiny. Also lucrative endorsement deals and hot chicks.

However baseless, cowardly, and willfully ignorant your logic is, please know that I still wish us to be friends. My compassion knows no bounds, as I am genetic perfection living among you. I would like to invite you to join my playgroup, because the baby that whines, screams, cries and shits himself constantly has moved. I think you could take his place immediately.

You may need a Kleenex to wipe the tears from your eyes before reading anything else today. It's like if someone had taken the works of Tolstoy, Dickens, and the guy who wrote Goosebumps, and distilled them down to an elixir of words that soothes your heart, mind and soul.

Growth Note: My tongue is pinker than your first cotton candy at the old town fair.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

Listen to Father's voice and be instantly transported to a time before time itself, where hardy warriors and explorers of olden days drank in mead halls and fought for honor in hand to hand combat. Where plated armor was forged and worn in battle, and fatted pigs were roasted on spits in victory. Listen ye, to his voice that travels like a savage ghost from ages past - echoing the clashes of swords and the cries of fallen men. If you ask me, he makes Beowulf sound like a total pussy.

Note to both female and male readers - Due to the combination of figurative and literal potency of Father's words, everyone who hears this should immediately take thrice the recommended dosage of Plan B to avoid pregnancy.

Note to Employees of ESPN (the Four Letter): I assume that trickling sound I hear is you Bristol bitches pissing yourselves.

Growth Note: The whites of my eyes are made of liquid molten alabaster.

Via Small White Ball

Friday, May 9, 2008

The Umlaut's New Outfit

So you may have read that Father expressed a desire to see the Umulaut wear "the Wonder Woman outfit." Before you go ahead and assume he was referring to amorous designs for the Umlaut, you should pause a moment to reflect on what a waste your life is.

At first when I read the offending piece, I assumed Father had been misquoted and was referring to the Wander Woman, whose outfits are humble to say the least and would turn any recognizable woman into just another unremarkable lady with a mustache. After dismissing that theory, I thought perhaps the quote was accurate but out of context. For example, "I want to see her wear the Wonder Woman Outfit... in the middle of a downtown Kabul mosque while demanding women's rights."

Again, my theory was thwarted when I realized the article was written by the Boston Globe as opposed to the kitchen wench-apprentices at the Boston Herald's Inside Track (I refuse to link them). For a brief moment, I did the unthinkable. I began to doubt Father's intentions towards the Umlaut as purely acts of charity for the illiterate, the mentally disabled, petty thieves, and those who are ridden with STD's from head to toe. I fell into a deep despair that lasted long after my box of animal crackers was consumed.

By the looks of it, the Umlaut would need an invisible C-5 Aircraft.

But then it became so clear to me. Father used the same trick I arranged with OK Magazine and sent a subliminal message to all! Rearranging the letters, it is obvious to anyone that "The Wonder Woman Outfit" can also be made to show that he wants her to wear "A Town Whore Fondue Mitt!" He doesn't want her dressed as a scantily clad super tart, but rather seeks the exact opposite - to cover her hands in a publicly humiliating way while prevent her from stealing more wallets and giving hand jobs to cabbies for monopoly money. Father cleverly used the crimefighting theme, only it is he who is clearly the superhero in this scenario.

There is no other possible explanation.

I have not yet found what exactly a Town Whore Fondue Mitt is, but I suspect that's just because Amazon is out of stock.

Growth Note: In a crisis, my attention span can be used as a bridge.