When we last left face-stuffing land barnacle Peter King, he had finally gotten his Twitter feed up and running, thus signaling the beginning of the end of that startup’s financial potential. What kind of crucial information has King supplied you, the Twitty twitty gangbanging masses?

SI_PeterKing Ah, the glamorous life of a reporter. Drinking low-cal Vitamin Water and praying I’ll be able to make it 2 more hours to finish MMQB.

Ooom, low cal Vitamin Water. Well, la di da, Mr. Big Shot. Most of us have to drink regular water. We don’t get to have our water infused with seventeen different minerals and subtle hints of acai and pomegranate. Don’t tell me you’re just some poor reportin’ schlub, you cod lover!

SI_PeterKing Sanchez throwing out first pitch at the Mets Monday night. Memo to Mark: Don’t bounce it. They’ll boo.

And stop looking like Johnny Damon! You’ll just reinforce the Mets’ feelings as afterthoughts in their own city!

Anyway, to the column. Say Pete, what’s your top draft philosophy?

(more…)

Worst Signing, Or Worstest Signing? I was a guest on two podcasts leading up to tomorrow’s draft. I joined the roundtable over at Joe Sports Fan, then I joined Levy & Co. over at On The DL, where we talked about the draft, and the fact that Carolina decided last night to hand Jake Delhomme $20 million guaranteed in what has to be the single most retarded signing I’ve ever heard of not made by either Al Davis or Dan Snyder. Seriously, $20 million for Delhomme after that platypus abortion he delivered vs. Arizona? Jesus. That’s almost worse than the picture Levy posted of me in my Vikings hat and pink shirt. Good Lord. I look like a gay sailboat.

Wade: Mmmm… ice cream. Ice cream ice cream ice cream. You sure do help break up a day. You know, ever since I was able to turn the tables on the low-down snake Jerry Jones, life has been pretty darn sweet for ol’ Wade. Yes, sirree. Ain’t no finer to have than havin’ nothin’ to lose.

You know what I might do this afternoon? I do believe I’ll go golfing. Ha! How about that! Ol’ Wade sneakin’ out for a quick nine holes on a spring day. I reckon nothing would be better on a glorious spring day. Lemme just close up shop here. Seems pretty quiet. And that ol’ coot ain’t nowhere to be found! Yep, I think there’s no better time to kick back and rela…

(door flies open)

(more…)

That’s our own KOGOD dancing in the aisles at a Wizards game the other night. Unfortunately, this is only a temporary gig for our friend, as the Capital City Goofball returns from paternity leave next week.

Rob is a Giants fan. Rob is distraught because the Giants couldn’t close the deal at home in the playoffs. This is truly one of the sorriest displays I have ever seen. Even his friends make no attempt to hide their contempt for this blubbering fat fuck. I’m normally a pretty laid back guy, but I hate this guy. I am pissed that I have to pause from the business of pissing off Steelers fans to address this sorry situation.

Unless I see a shit-ton of Giants fans completely disavowing this loser in the comments, I will have no choice but to assume he is representative of you all.

[ thanks to reader Nick S. for the tip ]

Wade: Oh, SHIT. Shit shit shit shit shit. I am FUCKED. I mean, I’ve been fucked before. I’ve been beaten, branded, tickled, raped, spanked, and fired 339 times now. But I am definitely fucked this time round. WHAT DO I DO?!

You know what, ol’ Wade? You’re screwed anyhow. I’m tired. I’m tired of going apeshit trying to put out fires I got no chance of extinguishin’. You know what? FUCK IT. I’mma have some Oreos.

(opens drawer)

Mmm. I tell you, ain’t nothin’ finer than a good stack of Oreos. You come through that door, Jerry Jones. You’re not gonna stop me from enjoyin’ a well-earned treat.

(door flies open)

Jerry: WHERE IS THAT FAT FUCK?! PHILLIPS?! DON’T YOU TRY AND HIDE FROM ME, CHOKOZUNA! I can smell the hoagie dressing bursting out of your pores! You think you can choke away a ten point lead in seven minutes and then avoid THE ARKINSAW ASSPOUNDER?! Git your fat, drooping ass out here now, Brando! Here fatty fatty fatty! Here fatty fatty fatty!

Wait… what the… Why, you ain’t hidin’! YOU GOT YOUR FEET ON YOUR DESK AND YOUR STUFFING YOUR FACE WITH COOKIES ON MY TIME, YOU FUCKING HOT AIR BALLOON!

Wade: Yep.

Jerry: You sure as SHIT better have a good explanation for this, Beastula! Did you see my boy ROMO out there against those Pittsburgh faggots? HE’S A STAR! AND YOUR FAT ASS MADE HIM LOOK THE FOOL!

Wade: Well, that was clearly Garrett’s fault.

Jerry: What?

Wade: Hey, I did MY job. The D held those darn Steelers down. Why don’t you ask ol’ PRINCETON BOY why he dang offense didn’t move an inch!

Jerry: Well, I… you fat… I’m so GODDAMN… YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE COWERING IN FEAR RIGHT NOW, SCRAPPLE MARTIN!

Wade: Well, I ain’t. I’m tired, Jerry Jones. I’m tired of sittin’ here having everyone shit on ol’ Wade. High time Wade did some backstabbin’ of his own!

Jerry: Oh, is that so? WELL IT DON’T WORK THAT WAY, TUBBY! NOW YOU OPEN UP THOSE BIG FAT SHIT-PLUGGED EARS OF YOURS AND YOU LISTEN TO ME…

(door gets smashed into 3,000 very small pieces)

MBIII: JERRY JONES! JERRY GODDAMN JONES!

Jerry: Oh, FUCK! (hides behind Wade) Don’t move, fatass. You just sit there and eclipse me the way you do the sun, and other heavenly bodies.

MBIII: Jerry Jones, you can’t hide from me, MOTHERFUCKER! Y’all better move out of the way, Coach P. ‘Cause I’mma make caramel outta that wrappin’ paper-faced motherfucker! MOTHERFUCKER, GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND FACE THE MUSIC!

Jerry: (comes out) Marion! Marion, my boy! Can I git you anything? Complimentary beverage? Hot stewardess that’ll fuck you blind?

MBIII: Gimme your toe, MOTHERFUCKER!

(takes Jerry’s toe, dislocates it)

Jerry: GAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

MBIII: Oh, I’m sorry. DID YOU FEEL A PINCH THERE, MOTHERFUCKER?! FUCKING HURTS, DUDN’T IT?!

Jerry: (wincing) Ain’t nuthin’ the ol’ Double-J can’t handle!

MBIII: (twists toe) Oh really, MOTHERFUCKER?!

Jerry: GAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

MBIII: Try and sit in on your board meeting with THAT, ASSHOLE! You still think I’m soft, motherfucker?

Jerry: No.

MBIII: (twists toe) I CAN’T HEAR YOU, CRACKA!

Jerry: NO!

MBIII: See now, that surprises me, seein’ as how you thought Marion Barber had pussied out of that game Sunday. YOU STILL THINK I PUSSIED OUT, YOU FUCKING HICK SACK OF SHIT?

Jerry: NO!

MBIII: That’s more like it. Now you fucking listen to me, Jerry Jones. If you EVER call my ass soft again, it’ll be the last thing you say before I drive a GODDAMN motorcycle up your CHICKEN FRIED ASSHOLE. YOU HEAR ME, MOTHERFUCKER?

Jerry: Yes.

MBIII: Call my ass SIR, MOTHERFUCKER!

Jerry: Yes, sir!

MBIII: Marion Barber doesn’t back down from any fucking challenge, lest of all one from some goddamn tumbleweed-eatin’ MOTHERFUCKER LIKE YOU! I will fucking run through the goddamn River Styx to win a game! You gotta tear my fucking dick off to keep me off that field. SO IF MARION BARBER SAYS HE CAN’T TRAVEL WITH THE TEAM, YOU BETTER BELIEVE HE’S IN SOME NEW FUCKING DIMENSION OF PAIN! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!

Wade: Can I just say, Marion, that you are AMAZING?

MBIII: Shut up, fatass.

Wade: Yes, sir.

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman be putn hiz deekaleek in dem azzcakez when mista trayna man say he ain’t gon shine. Pacman ain’t down wid it. Pacman wanna shine. Pacman wanna go n tak hiz peese uh duh pie. Pacman gon shine. Oh, he gon shine. He gon make dat pussy drool. He gon turn dat pussyfountn da fuk on. Pacman down wid it.

And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. BULLEE 2 DA DAT. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till dem chikns git xtra crspy. Pacman like dat. Pacman got his drumstik. He gon make a bitchbizkit. Shoot dat gravy on da bitch. She gon lik it. Pacman down wid it.

MBIII: And another thing. I cannot understand GODDAMN WORD this asshole is saying! How the FUCK are we supposed to win SHIT when players can’t speak English, MOTHERFUCKER! I’m out there stiffarming motherfuckers, and this asshole’s talkin’ about PUSSYJOOSE! WHAT THE FUCK?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Ah, Marion! Marion, my good man! How are you? Did you have a good EATING today?!

MBIII: You fucking red-haired Ritz cracka looking motherfucker! RUN A GODDAMN PLAY ACTION PASS TO SOMEONE OTHER THAN WITTEN FOR ONCE, MOTHERFUCKER!

Garrett: But Jason has such a fine pedigree! Why wouldn’t I call 56 passes for him?

MBIII: Motherfucker, I GOTTA HEAR ABOUT THAT SHIT! Fix the goddamn offense, or else that faggot ass TO throws his soiled maxipads in the middle of the GODDAMN LOCKER ROOM! FIX IT OR MBIII WILL DROWN A BITCH!

Wade: You heard him, Jason. Fix it.

Garrett: What? Well, I never! Do you hear the way they address me, Mr. Jones? THEY’RE SO GUTTURAL!

Jerry: Just do what they tell you to do, SHITHEAD! My fucking toe is dislocated! HOW AM I GONNA STICK IT IN A HOOKER’S COOTER NOW?

MBIII: That’s your problem, motherfucker.

Garrett: (dragging Jerry out) You haven’t heard the last from us! You shan’t get away with this!

MBIII: Yeah well, whatever. YOU DRAG THAT CRACKA ASS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HERE AND DON’T COME BACK! THERE’S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN TODAY, AND HE’S THE BADDEST BLACKEST MOTHERFUCKER YOU’LL WISH YOU NEVER FUCKING MET! YEEHAW! I AM GODDAMN PISSED!!!!!!

This week, we’re holding the second annual KsK Kares Kharity Drive for Fisher House, which helps build temp housing for disabled veterans and their families. You can donate directly to FH here.

Wade: Well, oh my! I sure am stuffed! My, my goodness! Got ourselves a nice little Thanksgiving break there. Always does a man good, I tell you what. You know, this time of year is always so hectic. But I think we’re well-prepared this time. I know we got those pesky Steelers coming up. And we’re still chasing a playoff spot. But I feel good about where we are.

Yep, I think we’re gonna have a much more stable December round these parts. Nope, no crises here at Valley Ranch of any sort! No emergency fires of any kind are gonna spring up and disturb an otherwise smoothly running work month. AT ALL. Time to just eeease back into work and…

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEEEEEHAW! YEE, YEE, YEE, YEEGODDAMNHAW! YEEHAW MASON-DIXON FUCKING A GOWGIRL IN A HAYLOFT WITH HER PANTIES STUFFED IN HER THROAT! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEFUCKINGHAW, FATASS!

Wade: Oh. shit.

Jerry: Did you see what my boy ROMO did to those Seattle faggots, Tubby? He put THREE goddamn touchdown passes right in their faggoty little messenger bags! YOU DON’T BIKE TO WORK WHEN YOU’RE PLAYIN’ THE DOUBLE-J, THAT’S FOR GODDAMN SURE!

Wade: We’re glad to have him back. But I think we’re going t have to prepare extra hard for the Steelers, sir…

Jerry: Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. Listen, Ham Cameron, I need you to stop baking cheesecake in your crotch for a second and get your fat fucking ass out of your fat fucking chair. MOVE IT! GIT!

Wade: What’s going on? (gets out of chair) What the heck?

Jerry: Good God. Look at the assdent in that chair. That’s what Lake Superior looks like if you drain it! There are enough coffee cake crumbs in that seat to run an Aunt Anne’s factory, you galactic fat fuck!

Wade: Sir, I don’t think that’s very…

Jerry: I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT YOU THINK! THIS IS MY GODDAMN CHAIR! I OWN IT! AND I DON’T PAY YOU TO SPEND ALL DAY BUTTERING IT UP FOR MUFFINMAKING, YOU BIG FAT CLAM! Now listen up, Rosie Live. I have Christmas shopping for you to do.

Wade: I can’t go Christmas shopping!

Jerry: Why not? Can’t go to mall without ending up behind the counter of a Mrs. Field’s, you cookie-loving fat shit?! Well don’t fear, fatass. I have just entered in the Amazon username and password for the Double-J’s personal online account. You’ll be shopping right from this very chair. AND NO SPANK BREAKS! I don’t want my wife getting some pair of earrings that you bought after treating your dick like a Push Pop! Now you have to get gifts for the following people:

(hands Wade 700 page list)

Wade: There are thousands of names on here!

Jerry: Fucking right. AND DON’T GO THINKING YOU’RE ONE OF THEM! I only buy Omaha Steaks for people that don’t eat them as an after dinner cooldown. Be sure to get Susan that cheese log that’s shaped like a penis. Like Wispride spreadable white wine cheddar, the Double-J’s cock is EXTRA SHARP!

Wade: Sir, I don’t have time for this. How are we gonna get ready for the Steelers?

Jerry: You fat hump. Didn’t I tell you my boy ROMO is a star?

Wade: I think you’ve maybe…

Jerry: HE’S A GODDAMN STAR! Besides, ol’ Jerry’s got a little ace up his sleeve this go round for those Pittsburgh meatstuffers. ADAM!

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman cum back 2 da lokkr room an dem otha bitchez be sayn Pacman no gud. Pacman ain’t down wid it. Pacman say dem foolz ain’t walked in his shooz. Dey ain’t kno what it lik 2 fist dat azz lik da Pac do. Dey ain’t kno what it like 2 ta grab a bitch an pak dat hatchbak. Pacman down wid it. Pacman say dem girlz got 2 giv up dat fatburger. Pacman say itz Burgertime.

Pacman gon shine. Pacman tak dat azz an put dat banana in it. Pacman ain’t no froot. Pacman got dat big Chikita shit. Dis shit naycha’s perfect fud. And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. BULLEE DAT. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank until he turn on da sprinkla. PACMAN GON TURN ON DA AZZSPRINKLA! CHUH CHUH

Jerry: That reminds me, Fatass. Be sure to get Adam here one of those Sony ass sprinklers. No cheap Vizio ass sprinklers for my boy!

Wade: But I don’t even know what that is.

Jerry: You need to also get at least two hookers for each Cowboy alum. THE DOUBLE-J NEVER FORGETS A COWBOY! Now get them gift-wrapped, and ship them FedEx so they’re still breathin’ when they get there. NO ONE WANTS A DEAD HOOKER ON THEIR DOOSTEP!

Pacman: Pacman down wid it.

Jerry: Not everyone agrees, Adam. Also, get Irvin that pair of golden scissors he wanted.

Wade: Well, who’s gonna run the team while all this is going on?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Mmmm. Yes. Indeed. My good portly friend, shouldn’t you be in Perigord region, rooting around in the soil for precious black truffles?

Wade: Shut up.

Garrett: Oh, dear Mr. Jones! How good to see you again! I trust you had a lovely Thanksgiving. Did you get the holiday card that Priscilla sent you? I wrote it myself. There’s no levity quite like Princeton levity!

Jerry: It was lovely, Jason. I’ll treasure it always. And I’ll have fatty here get you that Vineyard Vines whale belt you asked for.

Garrett: Oh, please! No need! I already have seventeen of them! Ha ha ha!

Jerry: Ha ha ha!

Garrett: Ha ha ha!

Jerry: Ha ha ha!

Garrett: Ha ha ha! Oh, Mr. Jones. What a Princetonian you would have been! I wish you had been in our eating club. A fine eater you’d make! Unlike the human landfill opposite me now.

Wade: Hey!

Jerry: YOU SHUT UP, COACH KFC! You shut up and git my shopping done! AND MAKE SURE NATE NEWTON GETS THAT BROWNIE PAN HE ASKED ME FOR!

Wade: This sucks.

Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAW! DOUBLE YEEEEEEHAW! TRIPLE FUCKING YEEHAW, YOU FUCKING SHOPACHOCOHOLIC!
JINGLE BALLS, HOOKERS CALL, WADE DONE LAID AN EGG!
THE JONESMOBILE HAS EIGHT WHEELS AND I’LL EAT PUSSY ANY DAY!!!!!
WAHOOOOOO, I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

I’ve got my Rally Rag ready. No way those Terrible Towels gonna embarrass us this week! We’re gonna take it to these Cowgirls. ‘Skins can’t possibly win this game by any less than four scores. BLITZ THE PINKY! BLITZ THE PINKY! The way we got embarrassed in our last game was only ’cause we had a late bye week. No rested Redskins team woulda lost that one. Now we’re prepared for the stretch run.

COOOOOOOOOOOLLLLEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!

I’ll say realistic Redskins finish is 12-4. 13-3 if we just cut the shit and start Colt Brennan already. He’s the man of the people! We’d be playing a Sundee in February with him.

Bandwagon starts up again this week. DeAngelo Hall is just the dynasty-sparking aquisition we’ve been waiting for. No Portis means Shaun Alexander goes for 150 yards! Stock market rebounds on the strength of a Warrshington victory!

HAIL!

Can you spot the Pulitzer Prize winner in this photo? Hint: It’s not the tubby albino asshole in the failed hipster ensemble!

Photo by Michael Gluckstadt at Gelf

Wade: (paces back and forth) Oh, FUCK. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. That did NOT go well. We got our dang lunch handed to us out there! Oh God, what do I do? I’m dead. I’m so dead. I’m so dead.

Wait, you know what? I’ve been doing this shit for years now, freaking out any time that crazy asshole’s about to open that door. Well, NOT THIS TIME! This time, I’m gonna do what my daddy always said to do when somethin’ went wrong. MAN UP. Time for me to quit havin’ a big ol’ pity party and take CHARGE. And I know exactly what I’m gonna do.

(picks up phone)

Jennifer, can you send Coach Garrett into my office? Thank you.

(door flies open)

Garrett: Mmmm. Yes. Indeed. What seems to be the problem, my good man? Did you drop the rest of your Almond Joy on the ground, and now find yourself lacking the capacity to bend at the waist in order to retrieve it, wherever your waist may be located?

Wade: You’re fired.

Garrett: Pardon?

Wade: You’re fired.

Garrett: Come again?

Wade: You’re fired.

Garrett: Could you put that in a more erudite, Princeton way of phrasing?

Wade: You’re fired.

Garrett: Am I to take it that you mean I’m being expurgated?

Wade: Yes. I want to move in a new direction there, coach Garrett. So please pack up your things and go.

Garrett: Oh. Mmm hmm. I see. Hmm. Tee hee. Ho ho. Tee hee hee. Ha ha ha. Chuckle chuckle. GUFFAW! HEARTY GUFFAWING! LOUD, EBULLIENT GUFFAWING IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION!

Wade: What’s so dang funny?

Garrett: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Judd! Judd, my dear brother! Come hither at once!

(door flies open)

Judd: Dearest elder brother, I rushed here as soon as I could! Are you all right? Did this hideous sea creature try and consume you whole, as the whale once engulfed Jonah? My God, the smell! It infiltrates all my olfactory receptacles! I say, my nose is under severe duress!

Garrett: No, my dear brother. Nothing is wrong at all. I just thought I’d share with you an amusing anecdote. It seems that our “boss” here (stifles laughter), has just informed me of my impending termination.

Judd: No.

Garrett: It’s true!

Judd: Fire a Princeton man? Surely he jests!

Garrett: He does not jest!

Judd: No jesting of any sort?

Garrett: He has not jested in any fashion!

Judd: Surely, his lack of jesting is most jest-worthy!

Garrett: Indeed!

Judd: Huzzah! What a jester!

Garrett: I must tell our good friend Bill Kristol of this jesting merriment!

Judd: Indeed! I’ve never heard such an amusing jesture!

Garrett: Ha ha ha!

Wade: I don’t know what you two think is so dang amusing. Jason, I am the head coach of this team. And that means I have control over my staff. So I am firing you. And you too, Judd.

Judd: Oh, no! He’s fired me too!

Garrett: What a cavalcade of misfortune, dear brother!

Judd: How will we ever survive, good sir? With our excellent pedigrees, and sterling resumes, and pure European blood? BAHAHAHAHA!

Garrett: BAHAHAHA! Oh God! Someone tell him to stop! I can’t take it… all this jesting!

Judd: Brother! Brother! Is this not just like the time back at our Princeton eating club? When we ATE?! And then told Blakeley Chumwell that his girlfriend was NOT a member of the Mayflower Society?

Garrett: Oh, yes! That was an excellent jesting! And a good eating that resulted!

Judd: Indeed. There’s nothing like a good jesting paired with a good eating.

Wade: YOU TWO ARE FIRED! GET OUTTA THIS BUILDING RIGHT NOW!

Garrett: Oh ho ho, good man. Surely you know you can’t possibly fire us.

Wade: Why not? Who says I can’t?

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!!!! WHOOP WHOOP WHOOPITY ASSBANGAROO!! WHERE IS THAT FAT FUCK?!

Wade: Sir.

Jerry: YOU FAT SHIT! YOU BIG FAT USELESS TUB OF SHORTENING! YOU FUCKING SPOONBREAD-EATING GLOP OF SHIT-STUDDED BROWNIE DOUGH! YOU ARE FAT!

Wade: Sir, I know we’re struggling right now, but I am taking measures to get us back on track.

Jerry: Oh really, Boxy Brown? Do you have some sort of big fat magic wand that can git my boy ROMO back out on that field?! Didn’t I tell you my boy ROMO was a star?

Wade: I believe you may at one time have…

Jerry: HE’S A GODDAMN STAR! And you are FUCKING UP HIS TEAM with your big fat sausage fingers! You fat asshole! I made reservations for Tampa ages ago, AND YOU ARE FUCKING THOSE PLANS UP, FARTBURGER. Switzer and I already reserved a room with 12 megabars. WE WERE GONNA FUCK HALF OF TAMPA!

Wade: Sir. I have a handle on the situation. And I am taking action right this minute, starting with the dismissal of these two gentlemen.

Jerry: WHAT?

Garrett: Afraid so, Mr. Jones. It would seem that our buxom chap here has deemed that neither my or my dear brother’s dexterous minds are no longer welcome.

Judd: Indeed.

Jerry: He tried to fire you both? Well, that is… THAT IS THE FUNNIEST GODDAMN THING I EVER HEARD!

Garrett: I know! Don’t you find it a jesting worthy of Marceau?

Jerry: Oh, Tubby. I’ll give you one thing, fatass. You sure know how to lighten up the mood around these parts!

Wade: I wasn’t joking!

Jerry: Oh, please. Who would have called the plays if you had fired these two?

Wade: I would have.

Jerry: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Oh, that’s even better! I can picture you on the helmet radio now! “Say, this here’s Coach Fatass. I’d like a large pepperoni, three large Meat Lover’s, an egg yolk milkshake, a whole roasted elephant, and a side of brie cheese fries.”

Garrett: Don’t forget the Gatorade cooler filled with chocolate mousse!

Judd: Or the defibrillator!

Jerry: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Wade: This is serious! I’m taking charge here!

Jerry: Oh, son. The only thing you’re allowed to take charge of here is the FroYo bar! NOW GO FIND ME A QUARTERBACK WHO DOESN’T THROW LIKE A GODDAMN RODEO FAGGOT!

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman be hidn out wit dem hos from da Gold Club. Pacman likey how dat azz be bouncn. He gon shine. He gon slap dem unyunz and den frost dat cupcake. Pacman down wid it. He gon go ackylacky on dat azz.

Jerry: Hey Adam, did you hear that tubby here tried to fire the Garretts?

Pacman: O, dat funny. Like dem Way-nz. Dey make dem white chicks n shit. Pacman down wid it. Pacman take dem white chicks and plug dat drain. Den he do da sticky sticky wit dat sirrup. And he gon drank. O, you say he kan’t drank? Nuh nuh nuh. He gon drank. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till dem white chicks get da white skeet on they shoez.

Garrett: Indeed! What a fine day of jesting this has become!

Wade: This sucks.

Jerry: YEEEE HAWWWW! WOOHOO! YOU’RE POWERLESS, FAT ASS!!!! THE ONLY THING YOU CAN TERMINATE IS YOUR WEIGHT WATCHERS CONTRACT! WOOO HOOOO YEEE DOGGIE I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!