Tuesday, January 21, 2003




That's right, bitches.

What the fuck did I tell you people? Did you think just cuz I talk senseless yang about every other aspect of the human condition and el mundo in general that my tongue was flapping senselessly when I tried to inform you that the Oaktown Raiders would be playing in the Super Bowl this year? Did you think I was fronting? Did you think that the okeydoke was spittin’ smoke? Did you think that 19 years away from the big game had rusted out the rivets for the left-coasted transplantable but still cali-keepin-it-real team with the permanent non-revokable-ghetto pass?

Hellz naw. Raider Nation is no place for wankstas, it’s a way of existence, known and unknown by tens of millions of caterpillar loving escapade gangsters. It’s a mindset that people like Bartley could never achieve, and that’s no dis on one of my main homeys, it’s just the truth. When you’ve been brainwashed to not feel a gag reflex at the site of the bitch ass hoe stanfurdite that is john elway and his horsecock sandwich eating broncos, then you are inherently blinded to the ultimate ways that are the silver and black.

All I know is that the Titans went down like Vanessa del Rio at a Motley Crue concert. Without Air McNair it would’ve been like Fred Flintstone takin a two-by-four to Dino after the poor mutt got hit by a car. That purple doggie would try to get in some licks, and ya know, do some damage, but at the end of the day it would whimpering in the doghouse while fred was sparkin a phattie. The long beach essence of that is indisputable so don’t try.

Rich Gannon’s MVP-ness was on display for the unwashed masses to scrub down their vestibules and reminisce on with a gallon of boone’s spiked chardonnay. The Oakland D-Line was something akin to Indiana Jones shooting down that guy that throws his whip all over the place. Eddie George might as well have gone and run into the walls of Graceland all day long rather than try to get by that mammoth non-alley having immovable object.

Jerry Porter had his official coming out party after a season of pimpin hoes. It was like Too Short delivering his final serenade and then admitting he just can’t stay away. This dude is the real dillio and as a third receiver behind Jerry Rice and the OG Raider Tim Brown I mean it’s like butter on toast. It’s like jelly, no fuck that it’s like honey on jam on I can’t believe that shit ain’t butter – it’s the extra extra that you didn’t even read about, you just knew it.

And the ultimate Raider foe lined up in the cross hairs, Gruden’s bucs. Bring it the fuck on ho-slicks. That’s right I said it. Ho-slicks. This is a storyline that is a sportswriter’s wet dream if not for the sheer fact that it’s so goddamm obvious that I am wiping my hands of it and will let you check out the official media for hype & speculation. It’s gonna be a game, but the Raiders will come out on top, and Gruden will have still accomplished something huge for getting a sad ass organization that rivals the clippers in terms of ineptitude this far, but in the end it’s all about Raider Nation. Raider goddamm mothafuckin Nation, unstoppable and totally dominant. A new era has dawned. Recognize.

PS: this shit is hilarious. Fred durst on his dillio with Britney Spears. Read the last three entries in his “diary.” I can say with serious lack of sincerity that he is the corest of the hardcore. What a fukn joker. I’ll try to remember to link this again in two months after one dumps the other and he’s talking all kinds of shit and backpedaling to look like the tough guy again. Dude go sing a duet with Aaron Carter and shut the phuk up.