Wade: Whew!  It just never stops!  Seems every week it’s something — Adam’s suspension, Tony’s broken finger.  It’s been tough, but I think we’re gonna weather this storm and make a run at the playoffs yet!  But danged if I don’t spend too many nights on the couch in my office after watching film.  Sure is good to be home for once!

(heats up Tupperware container of gravy)

Yessir, it’s been a rough year, but I think I deserve a little of this.  Now let’s head over to the computer and see what those Morning News columnists have to say about ol’ Wade.

(laptop flies open)










Jerry: YEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!  YIP YIP YEEHAW!  YIP YIP YEEHAW!  YIP YIP YEEHAW!

Wade: Sir!  What — what’s going on?  Why are you on my computer?

Jerry: It’s a teleconference, teletubby!  With my new living arrangements, I won’t be able to personally check in on you and watch you sweat at rest.

Wade: Sir, where are you? Are you saying you’re in…?

Jerry: OUTER FUCKING SPACE?!?!  You’re goddam right I am!  What a smart little piggy!  Gonna win yourself the Nobel Prize in GASTRONOMY!

Wade: But sir, WHY?

Jerry: Major Tom to ROUND CONTROL!  How the hell ELSE am I supposed to supervise the construction of my new stadiums, you heaving land mass?

Wade: Wait.  Did you say stadiums? You mean there’s another stadium besides the new billion-dollar one?

Jerry: First rule in Double-J’s spending is this, Veal Armstrong: why build one when you can have two at twice the price?  Only, this one was kept a secret.

Wade: What one?  What are you talking about?

Jerry: HOKKAIDO, JAPAN!  Official overseas home of AMERICA’S TEAM!  That ginger twit Goodell loves international games so much that it’s only a matter of time until he sends my STARS overseas to make this great game of football more popular.

Wade: But those games are only played in London.

Jerry: Not anymore they aren’t!  You think Double-J’s gonna put up with a week of British food and Anglopussy and watch AMERICA’S TEAM play on a fucking SOCCER field?  HELL NO!  I’m gonna sit in my gold-plated owner’s box and have a sashimi platter served on the nicest piece of naked underage Jap poon you’ve ever seen!  Spicy tuna on spicy tuna!  Yellowtail on yellow tail!  HOOOOO WEE!!!  I LOVE PUSSY!

Wade: Are we done?

Jerry: What’s the rush, Pear Bryant?  Your container of gravy getting cold?

Wade:

Jerry: We ain’t even CLOSE to being done.  You’ve got to haul that great white ass to Japan!

Wade: WHAT? I can’t go to Japan!  We have to play the Redskins on Sunday!  The players need me!

Jerry: BAHAHAHAHAHA!  OH HO HO HO HO!  Oh, that was rich.  Ha ha.  Phillips, every time… Ha ha ha… Every time I forget why I keep your cupcake cavern around, you go and say something like that.  You really are somethin’.  A big, fat glob of somethin’.

No, I think the team will be fine in your absence.  Isn’t that right, Jason?

(second video window pops open)

Garrett: Konnichiwa, Mr. Jones.  Everything is in place for Operation Downfall.  All that remains is to drop Fat Boy, so to speak.

Jones: Excellent.  Then we’ll commence with the aporkalypse now.

Lardass Flynn Boyle, you’re gonna take the next flight to Japan — rent a C-5 with an industrial sling if you have to — and make sure every one of my specifications for Hokkaido Cowboys Stadium is being met.

(types on wireless keyboard)

There.  I just emailed you the list.

Wade: (opens attachment and reads) “Skin-tautening stations throughout the concourse… jeweled mural of the Cowboys star fucking the Rising Sun… every bathroom outfitted with the three-shells thing from Demolition Man“?

Jerry: Awesome movie.

Garrett: Mmm.  Yes.  Indeed.

Wade: Mr. Jones, this is literally impossible.  There’s no way I can go to Japan and do this.

Garrett: Don’t take it so hard, my good man.  Many of your stature are well respected in Japan.  They are called rikishi, and like you, they wear diapers in public.

Wade: Hey!  What are you talking about?

Garrett: Oh, nothing.  And do try to watch your diet.  If you get any larger you may unwittingly star in your own movie.  I hear Godzilla never got paid any royalties.  Mmm.  Ha ha.

(third video window pops open)

Pacman: Yo yo.  Pacman hear da J got him dat space azz.  Pacman down wid it.  Pacman say ain’t no azz get tapt till we do the skeetskeet at fitty thouzzin feet.  And he gon drank.  Oh, BULEEV DAT.  He gon drank.

Jerry: That is an excellent idea, Adam.  What I need up here is more PUSSY AND BOOZE!!!!  YEEEHAWW!!!! DRUNKEN SPACEFUCKING BEGINS RIGHT GODDAM NOW!!!!! I AM FUCKIN’ HORNY!!!!!!!!!

Wade: (types) :(