An open letter to the Red Sox Nation…
“I would like to direct this to the distinguished members of the panel: You lousy corksuckers. You have violated my farging rights. Dis somanumbatching country was founded so that the liberties of common patriotic citizens like me could not be taken away by a bunch of fargin iceholes… like yourselves”
“I think in all fairness, I should explain to you exactly what it is that I do. For instance tomorrow morning ill get up nice and early, take a walk down over to the bank and… walk in and see and uh… if you don’t have my money for me, I’ll… crack your fuckin’ head wide-open in front of everybody in the bank. And just about the time I’m comin’ out of jail, hopefully, you’ll be coming out of your coma. And guess what? I’ll split your fuckin’ head open again. ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ stupid. I don’t give a fuck about jail. That’s my business. That’s what I do.”
Yeah, I’m being a big, fat, fuckin baby. So what? I see a Red Sox fan on campus, and he wants to be cute…I’m gonna bite his fucking ear off. That way, sure, the Sox would still be going to the World Series, and I’d be going to jail, but you know what? The poor piece of shit motherfucking wannabe comedian with the sand to talk crazy to me will be less one ear. That gives me pleasure, that gives me peace…and it’ll all be worth it. Because when I get out of jail, I’ll have both my ears.
That’s what matters. And you know what? Don’t stop and think, “jeez, it’s only a game…what the fuck?”
Anyone who says that, well…they just don’t understand.
I’m taking my ball, and I’m going home…so fuck off, I’ll be in a better mood later…