dr. doooom's answering machine

Well it’s Monday morning so I guess you’re all (hi joe and ed out there at the peanut farm) expecting me to write something or some shit. Notice how I threw in that “or shit” as in I wouldn’t want to write a sentence without some form of profanity because then I would leave chance at being taken seriously by some deuschbag blog reviewer trying to catalog the best blogs ever and literary works and shit like that and FUCK THAT I don’t want to be on one of his little “lists” ok? This SHITE you’re reading is beyond that. I don’t want a fukn oscar, I don’t want a Grammy, I don’t even want a goddamm pat on the muthafuckin back. I just want my proppas. And my Pop-Tarts. And maybe a glass of orange juice poured by a monkey named Coco. Is that too much to fukn ask?

I played some basketball this weekend. Actually “played” usually implies that you knew what the fuck you were doing so I guess I “embarked” on some basketball or “was present” while some basketball got played, or “got in the way of the game like a fukn turnstile at an orphanage” or something like that. I sucked so majorly that I think I hit 3 shots in 85 games. But I was a rebounding machine, that I must admit. I should have brought some goddamm fuckin windex I was cleaning the glass so hardcore. A couple people in the crowd that had assembled thought I was Dennis Rodman, cuz I do have a shitload of tattoos, most noticeable a chevy impala across my back that says “cruisin’” along the frame and also across my shoulder blades is written in gothic lettering “anotha day anotha dolla.” Just like that, pretty core huh without the “r’s”? yeah I know, I get a lot of compliments on that. So but I was getting a lot of rebounds but making no shots and if only I was black and 6’8 and with funky died hair and a nose ring it’s like I would have BEEN Rodman. A Hawaiian Rodman. Damn, that was close when you think about it.

Gotta give mad props to Kobe for lighting up the NBA like a muthafuckin Christmas tree as of late. Now if only they’d trade him to the Clippers and pick up like Bill Wennington to play point guard then MAYBE the clips could be the real team in LA, but fuck as long as shaq and Bryant are running the shizow the clips will be second string all the way. FUCK. The clips would have a genuine chance if their shitbag owner Donald Sterling would loosen up the purse strings a little, but that’s about as likely to happen as me suddenly growing 3 feet and being able to ride space mountain at Disneyland. That’s about as great as the sandwich at the end of that David Lee Roth video. And That’s fukn great as hell. Fukn Donald Sterling and Al Davis should go to a retreat together in the mountains above the Okefenokee swamp and drink hemlock and pass on the teams and all their money to someone from the planet zooba that has no concept of money & doesn’t give a rat’s bulbous ass and only cares about winning & getting the best players and coaches. Al Davis you ridiculous pile of frappachino compost, if you had only payed Gruden we would be doing the super-bowl shuffle with the fridge, but noooo you HAD to do it your way didn’t you, you old glasses hanging from your neck and LA Looks hair gell encrusted pile of goat excrement, didn’t you? You fukn reject from a weird al video, time to get back in your hamster spinner and do the Charleston with Zsa Zsa Gabor you goatless hobag.

Ok three solid paragraphs. You want more? Want to flow me mad cash for more paragraphs, more wisdom, more knowledge? Well unfortunately for you and the goat you rode in on money does not control this fountain of crap that spews forth from the union of the keyboard and my fingers. A secret dog in a secret lair with a secret name is running that whole fukn show and now it’s naptime and ain’t SHIT you can do about it, so you best gets to either stepping or shutting your goddam piehole.

Oh and happy Zimbabwean Ostrich Day.