Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman be croozin up dat azz wen Mista Agent Man say U GON 2 KANNIDA. Pacman say were Kannida at? He say UP NORF. U GON UP NORF.

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Yo yo. Pacman be chasin’ dat blinky puzzy wen Mista Yeehawman cum 2 him an say shit b off. SHIT B OFF.

Pacman ain down wid it.

Pacman say 4wha? Why u gon cutt Pac loos? He say cuzz Bob Ley say Pacman orda tha giznatch on dem suckazz muthaphuckkas down da puzzy club. Bob Ley a bitch.

BUT DEY DUNNO DA TROOF! Pacman say ain hizz heata! Dat nina cum frum hiz shawty. Shawty need ta stay strapped 2! Pacman Jr. b mindin’ Daddy’s Exalade! BULEEZ DAT! Pacman ain gon hirt nobody. Pacman jus wan SHINE! Pacman jus wan tak dat azz an mak it leek. Pacman down wid it. Pacman gon mak dat puzzy bleed.

Pacman ain use no jock. He stay in da club. PACMAN SAY DERE B LUV N DIS CLUB! He ain EVAH gon leave. He luv da drippn puzzy 2 much! Culd punch dat bloomn onion booty ALL FUKKIN DAY! He gon bust dat puzzy wid open. Pacman ain gilty of SHYT! ‘Cept 4 luvvin’ dat azz.

SO WHY U GON LEEV PACMAN DOWN LIK DAT?

Pacman gon sue. Oh, U don’t thank Pacman sue? Pacman gotz a loiyer, BITCH. Mista Goldbergowitz or sum shyt. AND HE GON BROOS DAT AZZ.

CHUH CHUH.

Pacman gon win. Pacman tak dat shyt to Judge Keene on Divorce Court. NOBODY GON PLAY WID JUDGE KEENE!

Den Pacman gon shine. TROOF. Pacman gon shine. Pacman gon slapp dat puzzy till da milk cum out. Then Pacman gon drank. O HE GON DRANK. Pacman say ain no drank drank till he put a hurtin’ on dat mouf wid dat dikk. Den Pacman turn inta Dikkman, nuh wha I meen? Pacman gon drank, den he gon bust dem cherreezz. Gon mak dat board lite up. Gon snak dat toilet. Gon cum n run. Gon fukk dem hair xtensions rite off!

UUUNNNNHHHHHH!

U don’t lik it? Pacman gon roll by yo hous an go Trainin Day on yo azz. HAPPY BIRFDAY BITCH.

Pacman down wid it.

Yo yo. Pacman be slidn in dem pussyjacks when dat Firebox from da leeg office say shit be back on. Pacman say 4real? Firebox say 4real. Da shit be back on. 4 true.

CHUH CHUH.

Pacman down wid it. Pacman gon shine. Pacman gon clamp down on dat Hines Viet Cong like he Sholonda’s azz. Sholonda got dat onion booty. Pacman down wid it. Pacman gon take dat azz and an paint it gold wid dat luvnozz. COS DA SHIT BE BACK ON.

And Pacman gon drank. OH HE GON DRANK. BULLEEF DAT SHIT. Pacman stay at dat “Brighter Future” clinic for da whole damn month. Dat like, 90 dayz. Pacman not down wid it. Doctor man say Pacman need 2 say he’z got a problem. Pacman tell u da reel muthaphuckkin’ prizzay up in dis shiznit: AIN’T NO DRANK 4 DA PACMAN IN DIS BITCH.

And wen Pacman put on da Yung Jeezy and tell dem nurses to sho him da ‘donk, bitches ain’t say shit. KINDA PHUCKKIN’ NURSE DEY BE? Nuh nuh. Lil’ Pac need dat tung medizine. Dem laydeez ain’t REAL NURSES. AIN’T GOT NO LUV FO DA PAC!

So Pacman gon drank. He gon drank dat lean till he kizz da dance flo. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till he put dat schlongbone up in dat nurse’s creempie. He gon drank all nite an den make it sprinkl. He gon GO GOLD. He gon let da dogz loose. He gon go bucwild. Owner strechy man say Pacman can fuk in da sky. OH PACMAN GON FUK IN DA SKY. HE GON FLY DEM U.S. AZZWAYS. DAT FO SHO.

Pacman reddy. Pacman got hiz Hen and Coke. Pacman got hiz drankin’ cup. Pacman got hiz fukkin’ pantz. Pacman gon go ababababababa on dat azz. He gon gobble up dem cherreez. He gon take hiz dickantula an go huntin’.

Shit be back on.

Fuk u.

CHUH CHUH.

Well that didn’t take long. Jerry Jones’ enabling and Wade Phillips’ denials notwithstanding, Pacman Jones has been suspended indefinitely by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell. According to Michael David Smith, the suspension will be for at least four games. Dallas’ ambitious social experiment lasted a whopping six games.

Apparently, Jones violated the terms of his reinstatement on the night when he is alleged to have gotten into a fight with his own babysitter. But it may have been his imbibing, rather than his belligerence, that got him crossways with the Commish.

“Looks like somebody forgot there’s a rule against alcoholic beverages in fraternities on probation.”

OH YEAH, SHIT BE BACK ON.

We gon shine. We gon take dat shit and we gon make it FLOOD. We gon make a MONPOON. We gon take dem fisty girlz and stick it up in dat azz loco-style. AIN’T NOBODY GON LEAVE DA PARTY TILL ALL DAT AZZ BE DRAINED.

And we gon drank. HAY-ULLS YEAH, WE GON DRANK. We gon chomp dem power dots and chase dem ghosts till dat Blinky stop dat blinkin’. We gon ABABABABABABA till we come out da otha side of dat azz. Shit be smokin’ round the rim when we break that shit off. Den we gon light up like Level 5.

AIN’T NOBODY GON KEEP US FROM FISHIN’ ON DAT PUSSYDOCK CAUSE WE GOT DA RODZ. PACMAN DOWN WIT IT. HE GOT DA DONGBAIT TO MAKE DEM CHERRIES BOUNCE ALL NIGHT LONG.

HOUSE THAT SHIT.

Sadia Morrison (pictured, seriously), who was convicted for her role in the infamous Pacman Jones strip club shooting, was found dead in New York last Friday. Morrison was a stylist for several NFL players, and had previously worked for Vibe magazine. Apparently, she died after being thrown from a building.

Yikes. That’s some Hitchcockian shit right there.

[ photo: JAMD ]

I’d like to thank you media people for comin’ out to this here press conference today.

Ahem.

I called y’all out here to let it be known that I, Adam Jones, will no longer be using the nickname Pacman. I made some mistakes over the last couple years, and I wanna break free from the reputation I created. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my career chasing ghosts.

So no more Pacman, a’ight? And no Pacman spin-offs, neither. I don’t wanna be called Ms. Pacman, even if my gameplay this year ends up being slightly improved and more nuanced. And no Pacman Plus, Baby Pacman, or Professor Pacman, neither. In fact, I don’t want ANY nickname that comes from an early-’80s arcade game. Not even Space Invade-Her.

I’m also gettin’ rid of my other nicknames and abandoning some business plans that some publicist bitch I hired didn’t like. So all y’all who IM me, I ain’t gonna use “KuntPuncher32″ as my AOL screen name no more. And to all my boys at the Indian casinos, I’m retiring my Native American name, Spits on Bitches. Oh, that reminds me: I’m halting production on Bitches on Spits, the exotic dancer rotisserie I developed during the off-season.

So that’s that. Just plain ol’ Adam Jones from here on out. Like the guitarist from Tool. Or that outfielder for the Orioles. Yeah, especially the Orioles guy. He ain’t never been in trouble with the law, right? From here on out, you guys may as well just think him and me is the same dude.

Naw, seriously. I already stole that bitch’s social security number and applied for credit cards.

ESPN is reporting that the Pac Man Jones to Cowboys trade is finally a done deal. The Titans get a fourth round pick and a conditional pick next year. Sounds like the Cowboys got Pac for a song. Not a good song either. I’m talking some of that Sufjan Stevens shit.

Details are scarce in the alleged scrap between sidelined Titans teammates Albert Haynesworth and Pac Man Jones. We all know Haynesworth will stomp your dome in a fit of roid-fueled pique. But Jones’ tormentors often find themselves dodging bullets.

Police accident reconstructionists say the melee probably looked exactly like this:

Faithful KSK reader “naptowndrew” sent us this photo of Pacman Jones holding a pit bull puppy, conclusive evidence that Jones is closely tied to the seedy underworld of dog fighting.

So, like, what do I do now? Do I keep up with the fake-news format of claiming Pac is into dog fighting? Should I make up a conversation between Michael Vick and him at Bad Newz Kennels? Do I proclaim “caption contest!” and try to make a bigger deal out of it than it really is? (C’mon, do I look like The Big Lead?)

Frankly, none of it seems all that inspiring. It’s a fucking picture, that’s all. A picture of a troubled NFL star and a puppy. Hell, it very nearly humanizes a man whose off-field exploits have been marked mostly by violence and misogyny. Holding a puppy and making what white people think is a peace sign is a huge step forward for the guy.

(Semi-off-topic: for anyone who’s interested in reading more about dog fighting, add Craig Davidson’s Rust and Bone to your reading list. It’s a collection of stories about fighting so visceral and hard-hitting that I generally needed a break between them to recover mentally. The prose is gritty, spare, and staccato. And while only the second story in the book, “A Mean Utility,” is about dog fighting, it’s the most grim and realistic depiction of dog fighting I’ve seen.)