Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Blatant Queefage




I can't get the comment link to work right now; if I could, I'd be leaving Lucky Number Slevin with a comment on his overtly racist post about Caucasian wide outs. Just because Johnnie Walker Orange is upset that his brother's ancestors didn't deposit said ancestral seed in his family tree doesn't give him any grounds to plaster these walls with generalization.


Let's be real here. I know tons of NFL fans. And neither one of them is a racist. In fact, they both whack (the PC term for mulatto). Every time Wes Welker catches a pass, my homeys cheer for the oppressed white man receiver and the Randy Mosses of the world at the same time.


Now that guy can play. When he wants to. As long as he ain't mad atcha'. Or playing in California. Or Minnesota. Or hungover. Or fresh out of traffic court. But anyway, Ol' Slevin had another point in mind. He just didn't know how to voice it.


That's what I'm here for. He really, really really likes any ties the Dirty Broncos can have with the Indianapolis Clowns. Especially if in some tangential way, it reflects upon Eli-esque (don't forget Daddy) behavior. He's secretly Stoke-leyd about the acquistion. But enough about that. I ain't tryin' to bring up old shit. Or new shit. Just shit, really.


What I is tryin' to bring up is the black quarterback. And its synonymity with general suckdom. Okay. Sure. Warren Moon -- great. Kind of. Randall Cunningham -- pretty damn good. Usually. Donovan "Chunky Soup" McNabb -- wouldn't mind having him on my team. If he could stay healthy and not lose three consecutive conference championships followed by a Super Bowl. Michael Vick -- whatever. Go ahead. Play the Doug Williams card while I take a quick nap and dream of ridiculous statements. Like the one at the top of this post.
Anyhoo. I'm pretty excited about Casey Printers continuing to occupy a spot on the Chiefs' roster. That guy's pretty good. If you like 6'2", 222-pound, CFL leftover, fumble-prone quarterbacks. I like how the Chiefs cut Printers more times that a side of deli pastrami, only to bring him back from the practice squad when Trent Green went down. Good times. I don't care how razzled Green's noggin was, how long it had been since Damon Huard had started a game, or how many times Brodie Croyle broke his leg in Tuscaloosa. I'd sew together pieces of each of those guys before ever giving Printers the reins. And I'm pretty sure his suckiness is attributable to one factor: his blackness.
Seriously. Maybe if some slave owner would've knocked up his grandmama mama out behind the shed, that guy could, how do you say, take a snap and not totally blow.
This all ties together nicely, really. Lets keep whitey under center and blackey runnin' routes. But only in games. We ain't tryin' to talk about practice, here. By the way, anyone wanna buy a seldom-worn Marc Boerigter jersey? It's a steal. Oh. Nevermind. I'ma keep that one. He's white. I'm racist. And for my money, those two adjectives are like peanut butter and jelly.


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