I’m a hypocrite.
I’m a hypocrite.
I’ve been telling myself and others that I would not dedicate any blog space to the person that has successfully stayed in the top three of my Hate List for the past few years. Yet, here I am, about to do just that. Normally, I would hold my tongue, but this person’s latest antics have pushed me to the edge. So here goes….
Kobe Bryant, why are you still alive?
You must be purged from the earth. Your crybaby ways have made me very sick. I rather vomit in a wine glass and then chug it down again than watch your interviews. There are abandoned schools in New Orleans with more class than you. You wannabe! You wanna be Michael Jordan so badly that you can taste it like I used to taste Nutella before you endorsed it. I stopped buying it, but since they dropped you a few years ago, Nutella never tasted so goooooood! You even changed your number from 8 to 24 just so you could be “one more” than Jordan. I must be the only person in LA to buy a Clippers jersey solely on my pure hatred of you. How are you going to complain about the Lakers’ management, insult your teammates, and ask to be traded only to change your mind shortly after and act like nothing happened? Now, you want to be traded again! You made your bed, so you gotta lie in it. Ya bastard! You wanted to be the #1 man on the squad so you complained enough to drive Shaq and Phil Jackson away. Now, your team is a mere shadow of what it used to be, it loses games even when you score 80,000 points before halftime, and, not to mention, y’all suck. The Lakers organization needs to quit bending over for Kobe, grow some balls, and kick him in his. But then again, he might like that. Let’s not forget that he likes it super rough, rough in that illegal way. You shoulda gotten shut down like your album was shut down. I guess you told yourself, “Hey, I can’t rap, but I can rape.” Guess you’re living your dream now, huh? You and R. Kelly need to be locked in a room so you two can just go at it on one another, since you two deviants like raping so much.
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One day I was in a drugstore and this woman came running in, completely hysterical. She recently had plastic surgery on her face and was livid about not finding painkillers that were strong enough. This type of behavior — I have a problem with. Lady, extensive cosmetic surgery is not the way to go. If you’re that unhappy with yourself, then there are plenty of tall buildings around the city that you can jump from. Since you want to change your face structure so much, you might as well go all the way and let the pavement do it for you. Hell, your face is crooked for a reason. God made you ugly. We, ugly folks, calmly and successfully deal with it every day. Why should you get special treatment?
Usually, when someone asks me what I want for Christmas, I’ll honestly tell ’em that I don’t want anything. Can’t help it. That’s just me. Blame it on my Southern upbringing. However, this year’s gonna be different. I’m declaring what I want for Christmas 7 months early. This Christmas I don’t want anything….I want a Segway. Aaaaaah yeeeah! A Segway, you know? Those motorized, crazy-looking scooter thingamabobs. I saw an airport cop with one once and I almost knocked him off it. I want one mainly for one reason. I want to ride it down the highway. Yes, I want hundreds of cars to honk at me simultaneously as I hold up traffic. I want to challenge sports cars to all-out drag races. I want to steal some M&Ms and a Yoo Hoo from a corner store and make my getaway on a Segway. Hopefully, if you all chip in, then you can help a growing boy’s dreams come true.
Ok, if one more person farts in a department store while I’m in it, I’m going to subject you to an old school, Old Testament village stoning all by myself. I am sick and tired of walking through invisible clouds of your ass gas that make me sick and tired. It fogs up my glasses, burns my eyes, singes my nose hairs, and hurts my soul. These silent but deadly vapors of methane should be banned…intergalactically. If you have to fart in a store, keep it in. That’s right. Give your insides a taste of its own medicine. I wanna see you implode. Homeland Security’s fighting the wrong battle. Also, if you’re on a elevator with someone, don’t let one go before you get off the elevator. Not only is that foul elevator etiquette, but it f%ckin’ stanks! “Stanking” is stinking squared. You should be either arrested or shot to death for that. It all depends on whether the officer or arresting citizen pulls out handcuffs or a pistol first. In the near future, scientists will be able to extract a fart’s DNA and trace it back to you. Those offenders will soon be caught and then you’ll be skinned alive.
Note: People with no eyebrows are no fun at surprise parties.
There’s a cook named Bobby Flay on the Food Network that’s starting to annoy me. He’s a born and bred New Yorker who tries to portray this “I’m tougher than all the other cooks” attitude and image. He even named one of his shows “Throwdown.” Gimme a break. He needs a beatdown and a smackdown. What are you, a karate chef? You a martial artist? More like a martial sandwich artist. The closest thing you’ve got to any kind of martial arts is your Japanese wok. Brotha, you ain’t tough cuz you whip the hell out of some pancake batter. Unless I see you in a barbed wire, fight-to-the-death, cage match with Emeril Lagasse, Rachel Ray, or better yet, Martha Stewart, and then you go inside a mosque and convince 500 Muslims that your pork soufflé does a body good, you’re just another guy who can cook with a cooking show. You are not an Ultimate Fighter, a welterweight boxing champ, or a kung fu master. You’re a bozo whose weapon of choice is a spatula. Tough guy, my ass.
Ever wonder why you pay hundreds of dollars for a plane ticket and all you get to eat are some 50-cent cheese and crackers? Huh? I know. Can’t wrap my brain around it either, which is why I propose that we begin wrapping a more satisfying food around our famished appetites. What do y’all think about munching on flight attendants? We should give it a shot. They’ve got to be more filling than Nabisco crackers, right? Which would you rather have: treats & snacks or feet & backs? Kettle Chips or Deborah’s hips? Doritos or Dorrie’s toes? The Donner Party had to eat one another when they were stranded away from civilization for a long period of time. Hey! Sounds just like being cooped up on a plane to me! One flight attendant for every five to ten rows works perfectly, according to my calculations. Oh! And if the flight’s half empty, then your stomach won’t be half full. More food for you. Plus, I hear people taste like chicken….just in a people kind of way.
Think Ink|Thinq Inq 