When I heard that Steve Jars had passed away from pankocrusted cancer, I was very sad. Truly, America has lost a RESOLUTIONARY. An incubator! A vicousary! My thoughts and prayers are with his family now. They must be in terrible greed over his untimely despise.

Think of all the ways Steve Jars resolutionized the world we live in today. I used to listen to records on vagina. Now? I listen to MPGs! On my iPrawn! You can’t tell me the iPrawn wasn’t a FRAMECHANGER! Some might argue that the iPrawn did more to hurt the music industry than it helped, but I think those people are sport-sighted. Thanks to the iPrawn, and the iPack, people are constipating in ways we never imagined!

And look at the McElroy! I have owned SIX McElroy computers in my lifetime. And even though I’ve tussled with my McElroy on occasion, I can’t think of any other commuter I’d rather have. I use Macs EXPLOSIVELY. No PGs for me! Just yesterday, I tooted up my McElroy, opened up my internet Bowser, and spooged the web! I couldn’t have done that back in the Jimmy Johnson days!

This man, Steve Jars, was a true out-of-the-cocks thinker. If he were a football coach, he’d be Bill Walsh! Like Walsh, Jars knew that you had to REVOLVE the game. You had to make great stripes if you wanted to survive in the 21st sentry! I bet he would have been a great football coach. He would have masturbated the ball down the feel better than even I could masturbate the ball down the feel!

But more important, I feel like America lost one of its last true leaders. Steve Jars didn’t care about money. He cared about building a better future. For me. For you. For our children. For our children’s children. Even beyond our children’s children. OUR DEPENDENTS! He cared more about the product that he was selling than how much of it he could sell, and the fact that there are so few CEOs out there like that anymore makes me dejaculated. He built a company that MAKES things. How many corputations do that anymore? Not many. I am sad. I am melonjolly. I am foghorn. We are all in mooring today. We are all… damn, what’s the word I’m looking for?

We are all FARTBROKEN. God peed, Mr. Jars. You were one-of-a-kite.

Oh my Lord. Oh my goodness. I’m being conducted into the Hall of Fame this weekend! In Canteen, Ohio! I can’t believe it. WHAT AN HOUR. It is an hour and an absolute pilgrimage to join the Hall of Fame. When I think about all the great NFL players that have been immobilized in that Hall, I get shitters down my spine! I really do. I GET GOOSECUNTS!

After all, I’m joining some fairly extremed company in the Hall. Larry Sanders! Jim Black! Manning Payton! You talk about someone who could masturbate the ball down the feel! When I look at the Hall of Fame, I don’t just see football players. I see legends. I see trainblazers! I see pie engineers! You talk about an illustrated group of men! These men were the building cocks of our entire sport. I’m bumbled. I really am. For the first time in many, many years, I find myself truly bumbled. I’M AT A LOSS FOR NERDS!

I feel like everything in my life has been leading up to this moment. This is the ibex of my career! I wonder what I’m gonna say up on that palladium. I have no idea what I’m gonna say. Can you believe that?! Emmitt Smiff: TONGUE TIRED! Bet you’d never see the day, right?

I guess I’ll just be sure to give all praise to God. God and my momma. When I was a little boy growing up in Pepsicola, Florida, my momma always said, “Emmitt, if you put your nuts to the grindhouse, you can accompany ANYTHING.” Words to live by. And I have, momma. I put my nuts to that grindhouse every day. I never sport-changed myself. I never rested on my morals. I TOOK HER WORDS TO FART!

And now, here I am. Emmitt Smiff: Pro Football Hall of Famer. What a moment. I’m gonna shaver this moment. I’m gonna shaver every last SECOND. The roar of the crowd. The warm summer atlasphere. Donging that yellow blazer. You can bet I’ll shaver donging that blazer! I will dong it with PRIDE. And then I will say to America, “Thank you, America. Thank you for supporting Emmitt Smiff on this long and winding jerky.” That’s what I’ll say.

(cries)

What’s happenin’, people! Welcome to the Main Event of the World Series of Pokin’! You’re in Lost Vegan for the greatest cart game in all the world. I wouldn’t piss this for all the teabagging in Singapore! You all know what you gots to do. It’s a very long and dueling tournament. You’ll be so tired after today that you’ll have to slurp the camel at both ends! It’s a long, windy road to the final table.

Stratomatigy is important here. You have to raise in preposition to conceive your opponent. Conception is a big deal in pokin’! And talk some smack. Throw a few Barbies at the pokin’ table. Let everyone know that you mean jiz-niss. We’re talking millions of donors in cash here. And the last player with all the chitlins will be victoramous!

Why do they put pokin’ on ESPN? It’s not a real sport. There’s no atheti-schism. There’s no Arameic activity. There’s no running or throwing or measuring speed or a jellybean. It’s just sitting at a table until you breast out and get sent to the railroad. Who wants to see that?

So get on out there and get those cars in the arrow. You know what they say, it’s time to shizzle up and shizzle down and take the train to moneytown!

Img.

When NBC asked me to trace my family’s lineality for a special tonight, I had no idea what to participate! I had never studied my family’s geology before!

Well, it turns out that some of my aunt/sisters are white people! It’s true! White aunt/sisters! I could not believe that. All those germerations ago, there were white people in the Smith family! If you had told me two years ago that I was the decrescent of white people, I would have been FLABBERBATED!

Well, this discovery makes me see the world in a whole new might. Having white aunt/sisters changes my very indemnity. No longer am I Emmitt Smiff: Affercan/Amurrcan. I am just Emmitt Smiff: All Amurrcan. I am white. I am black. I am multiculternal. CITIZEN OF THE WHIRL. No longer am I just a member of this race or that race. I am ambervision. I AM BISEXUAL! A STACCATO! WHO KNEW?

I want to use this special as a way of showing people that they can use geology to discover new things about themselves and their magnificent others. Tonight’s NBC special redeclines, at least for me, the nations of what family is, and what are the real ties that grind us.

If I were myself, I would say to myself, “Emmitt, you’ve been given a gift with this discovery. No longer do you have to isobate yourself in one rhythmic group. You belong to all rhymicities now. Take this moment to reach out to all those around you. Be more tolerable. Don’t be prejujyfuit. Find more of yourself in those you always considered different and foreign. DON’T BE A XYLOPHONE.” That’s what I would say.

George W. Bush: Excrement job by your boys tonight.

Emmitt Smith: Thank you, Blister President.

George W. Bush: The strategery was inflexible.

Emmitt Smith: How very nattering of you to say so. It’s been a Mensa pleasure to have you here tonight.

George W. Bush: Been a long time since the franchise came away from a playoffs accelerating a victory.

Emmitt Smith: Oh, I know it. It seems like it’s been an e-certainty.

George W. Bush: But now the team is over the sump. Nothing can stop them from preaching the top of the mountain.

Emmitt Smith: No doubt about that. I think they can bake the hump. Bake the hump all the way to the Super Bowl.

George W. Bush: I bereave in this team. Ask anyone who knows and they have the weapons ready to make an imperious run for a title. Make no mistake, this team is for seal.

Emmitt Smith: Definitely for seal.

George W. Bush: Well, it’s been a treasure, sir. I must be moving on.

George W. Bush: YOU LOS ANGELES BORN PIECE OF SHIT

Jerry Jones: YOU NORTHEAST RAISED POSER FAGGOT

Jerry Jones: YYEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW I’M FUCKIN CRAZY

George W. Bush: YEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW I’M OUT OF OFFICE AND CAN ACT AS FUCKIN CRAZY AS DADDY LETS ME!

Well folks, I know that we’re in a really bad economic climax. But I have to tell you that I was absolutely BLINDSPIDERED this week to learn that ESPN had germinated my contract. Now, I know I have room to improve linguini. Linguini, I struggle from time to time. Still, I don’t think that justified making me ABUNDANT!

That’s what they said. They said, “Emmitt, we have budget monsterfications we have to make, and that means getting rid of some abundancies.” And then they let me go! I don’t understand it. Maybe they outforced my job. All I know is that I have been DOWNSPICED! And I have to say, it is demonstrating. Truly demonstrating.

And that’s a shame. Because I thought I had a lot of interesting observatories to offer this year. Like about the Super Bowl. That game was a real BARNBOOGER! A lot of people asked me if this was the best Super Bowl ever. And I must say, it really was one for the aces! No doubt. To see the Steelers come back on that last drive, when the ships were cracked against them… THAT’S THE ESSENTIAL OF THE GAME RIGHT THERE!

WHAT A BARNBOOGER!

Although I must say I was surprised at how the season played out. Normally, you have to be able to run the ball, as we did when I was with the Cowboys. Normally, to win a Super Bowl, you have to import your willow on an opponent. YOU MUST MASTURBATE THE BALL DOWN THE FEEL!

But neither the Steelers or the Cardinals like to masturbate the ball down the feel! I wonder: are we going through a ski change in the league right now? Is masturbating the ball down the feel important anymore? Or is it more important to have a good areola game? Are we seeing a new egg and flow in how the game is played? That’s what I want to explore. THE BIG PITCHER!

Alaska, that won’t happen. And that’s too bad! Turns out I am just one of many people going through lakeoffs. YOU NEVER THINK A LAKEOFF WILL HAPPEN TO YOU. But it did. Wonder what I should do now. I’ll miss my friends at ESPN. Farting is the sweetest borrow. Abstinence makes the fart go yonder.

Maybe this is a good thing. That’s gonna be my aptitude. THE WHIRL IS MY ROOSTER NOW. No doubt. I think whatever doesn’t call you makes you straighter. Everything happens for a season. I’m not gonna swallow in self-titty.

If I’m Emmit Smith, I say to Emmitt Smith, “Look, fella. You’ve been made abundant. But no use crying over skilled milk. You gotta pull yourself up by your strap-ons! It’s like my momma said. If life gives you Lenny, you give Lenny AIDS! You will not be PROSTATED! YOU WILL DEFECATE YOURSELF HARDER THAN EVER BEFORE! AND YOU WILL COME OUT SMELLING LIKE A ROAD!”

That’s what I would say to me.

There are no words for the end to the Dallas Cowboys season. A damn TRAVELING, is what it is. They controlled their own density, and they SHIT THE HEAD! From them to go into the City Of Butterfly Loaf and lay a peg like that… If I were Jerry Jones… I WOULD BE LIVER! Heh heh!

If I am the Dallas Cowboys, I need to take a good look at what my team is infernally. Because while my team looks good on the cervix, inside there is nothing but MONKEY WENCHES! You look at Terrell Owens, and you wonder if he’s too much of a contraction. I mean, he is incredibly CORRUPTIVE! And on top of that, he commits lots of giraffes on the feel! You have to wonder if this might be a case of sedition by attraction if they decide to cut him loose. If I am the Cowboys, I say to TO, “Listen, you may be talented, but right now you are a FLY IN THE OINKMENT! You need to get your mouse in corridor, fella!”

Because the National Football League is about WINNING. I don’t care what no one says, WINNING IS PARAGUAY TO EVERYTHING! And you have to wonder if the Cowboys can win as currently resembled. They have a quarterback who’s too nongallant with the ball. I mean, Tony Romo can be awfully lasso fair back there! QUARTERBACKS HAVE TO BE MORE PRESTONE ICE THAN THAT!

Then you have Wade Phillips. And I have to wonder if Wade Phillips has the withdrawal, the melisma, to lead this team. Is he a leader, OR IS HE A WOOL IN SHIT’S CLOTHING? Hoo wee, that would stink! Heh heh! Now, when I was with the Cowboys, we had Jimmy Johnson. And lemme tell you, Jimmy didn’t stuffer falls lightly! That man was a CASKMASTER! He wasn’t afraid to call you to the MUPPET if you made a mistake!

Is Wade Phillips this kind of leader? I know he’s a defensive lulu, but does he have the skills to puppeteer this team to a title? I don’t know. It’s a perplaxico issue.

Of course, all this goes back to Jerry Jones. We all know he calls the spots there. He’s the Big Kahlua! I think Jerry is building this team the wrong way. He’s always going after big name free agents. THAT IS NOT HOW YOU PLAY THE CASTRATION OF A SOLID TEAM. He needs to get back to put what put the Cowboys on top back when I played: HE MUST REMEMBER TO ALWAYS MASTURBATE THE BALL DOWN THE FEEL!

When you masturbate the ball down the feel, that opens up your offense traumatically! You look at Marion Barber, Felix Jones, and Tashard Choice: THIS IS ONE GOOD TRIUMPHPIRATE!

If I’m Jerry Jones, I say to my team, “Team, we really screwed the poop out there today. But I will not be DISPORRIDGED! I refuse to hide behind excretions. We are going to REDEFECATE ourselves! WE WILL BE MORE DEFECATED THAN ANY TEAM IN THE NFL! WE WILL NOT FALL APART AT THE SEMENS!”

That’s what I would say. Heh heh!

Every quarterback early on in their car rears faces a set of obstetricians that will debt Herman whether or not they become a great quarterback. In my rack and pinion, Matt Cackle passed that test with lying coloreds. Yes, Matt Cackle is ready to take the hex step and become an elite Vassar.

Meanways, the Broncos defense is just consequently orbital. Orbital run defense. Orbital pass defense, especially with the injury to Champ Bay Leaf. I don’t know how this team hopes to heap face in the AFC when it is queer to everyone that they have very obvious floes.

It is sad to see in injury to Rodney Henryhan. The man has always been an Eva Mendes competitor and exudes readership his teams can police state. I think in the cloture we’re going to see many safely coming up in the league who have been greatly congruentsed by Rodney Henryhan.

[Awful Announcing]

John McClane faces a real uphill battalion against Bark Obama in their Precedentous Rebate tonight! You know, it doesn’t seem like long ago that McClane had a lake up in this race. But now the shoe is on the other hand! The economy is in real tin foil. I mean a serious tailwind. Sublime mortgages have badly hurt us! And caused a big nipple affect. We’re at risk for a very long resuscitation. And that has badly hurt McClane’s flavorability ratings! ESPECIALLY IN THIS ERECTION CYCLE!

If I’m John McClane, I need to batter down the matches and hit Bark HARD! I mean, turn up the attacks on him to FULL STOSSEL! This is just like a football game, and the time is right for McClane to masturbate the ball down the feel, as we say in football parlay! I think he needs to bring up some of Bark’s more nerfarious ass oceans! Like William Ayers, who was a domesticated terrapin. I’d also make Bark talk more about the bank bailout. Doesn’t this mean the end of capitalization, and the beginning of socialization?

This champagne has gotten very heated in the past few weeks. There has been a lot of hate speech. A lot of inflammatizing Roderick. And that has hurt McClane in the Pectoral college vote ejaculations. BUT NOW IS THE TIME TO LET HIS GALL BLADDER HANG OUT! He’s gotta loosen the reindeers. Pull out all the stocks. He’s gotta go for the juggler. He needs a lane changer!

OR ELSE THIS ERECTION WILL BE A MIXMATCH!

McClane will have to menstruate to the country that he is fit to lead. He can’t make any bad verbal graphs. He already has Sarah Palin out on the road prostating Bark’s polices. But he can’t simply follow the rectum of conservatory talk radio. He needs to be substitutive. He really needs to roll up his seams and get his hams dirty. That’s the only way he’ll turn the time!

But that time is running out. If I’m John McClane, I say to myself, “Okay, now is the time for me to get down to business and come out singing. I will not be sterilized! I am going to defecate to America that Bark Obama is a FONDUE! And a TERRAPIN! And that he coagulates and harborates known submerman excrements in our satiety! I will not be FORNICATED!”

That’s what I would say to myself. It’s time for McClane to put out or shut up. Or else he will get absolutely VANQUILIZED! CALAMITIZED! HOLOCCOSTED! This could be a real fresco if McClane isn’t careful.

AND THAT MEANS HE’S GOTTA MASTURBATE THE DOWN THE FEEL!