Friday, April 11, 2008

An alphabet of overrated things

A is for avocados. They look like grenades and, when guacamole’d, make me eat too many tortilla chips.

B is for Brady, as in Tom. Sports Illustrated sportsman of the year, my anus. He throws like Cindy Brady.

C is for cannons. What dumb weapons. All they did was shoot big, heavy balls at ships dumb enough to float in their way. This excludes laser cannons.

D is for defense. Don’t listen to what they say, it’s offense that really wins championships.

E is for Everybody Loves Raymond. I secretly called it Not Everybody Loves Raymond. Burn!

F is for food. It costs too much, doesn’t taste all that good, and if I stop shoving it in my face constantly, I die. Not that it has its own channel, with its fanbase of morons who talk about it constantly, food really thinks it’s hot shit. I say we rebel and go to Matrix cocoons for sustenance.

G is for Gus, the field goal kicking mule. Mr. Ed could take you down any day of the week, jackass.

H is for Hannukah. I have eight presents for you, annoying, overlong holiday that falls on different dates every year. Here’s a hint, they’re all punches to the throat.

I is for irritating column devices, such as writers using the alphabet when they can’t think of anything else to write.

J is for joints. Crack is where it’s at, baby.

K is for karate, which is no match for a gun.

L is for length. It’s all about girth, according to women as well as Jake Gyllenhaal’s character in Brokeback Mountain.

M is for Mike Tyson. First he loses to Little Mac, then he gets jailed for rape and when he gets out he bites peoples’ ears and moves to Phoenix. You are stupid. (Please don’t read this, drive down here and attack me).

N is for New York Yankees. You are losers, especially you, Alex Rodriguez.

O is for other websites. If they didn’t exist, would get more traffic.

P is for Pussycat Dolls. Doncha wish you’d shut the hell up and go back to your careers as strippers?

Q is for Q-Bert. Just kidding. Q-Bert was the mothableepin’ bomb, yo.

R is Rainbow Brite, no match at all for the underrated Strawberry Shortcake.

S is for Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliette? More like Romeo and Poo-liet.

T is for tarantulas. Brown recluses and black widows are more venomous, you big, hairy oafs.

U is for the University of Dumbass, which is my nickname for Arizona State.

V is for Villarroel. Some people have that as there last name – I saw it in the phone book. What happened to your “A,” you illiterate jagoffs?

W is for the song “Who Let the Dogs Out,” which should be renamed, “Who Let the Suck Out”

X is for X-Men. Superman could beat up all 1,000 of you. Even the effeminate-looking
Superman from the latest movie.

Y is for yo-yos. They always get tangled up and broken.

Z is for zebras. Like horses, only slower and with stripes. What are you, the referees of horses? I call a 15-yard penalty on you for stupidness.

No comments: