--I read Curt Schilling's blog about game two of the NBA Finals, and let me just say, what a fucking white trash piece of cunt. I'd live to kick that hill billy right in his fucking greasy vagina, the cock. Why don't you go home, throw on a 'Bush/Cheney 2004' t-shirt and fuck your mama in the ass, you know, the usual celebratory routine. Fucking inbred cocksucking dick. I had fond memories of the 2004 MLB Playoffs, thanks for retroactively tainting them, you cum guzzling, mama fucking, child molesting, sister fingering, poor excuse for Larry Bird animal dick stroker. Eat shit, fuck face. You've become the Red Sox answer to Roger Clemens you humpty-dumpty cunt. Here's to longer stints on the DL, cock juggler.
P.S.
Why don't you talk shit about Barry Bonds again? I hope he beats your ass with your own gerbil tube.
--If I read some fairy-ass garbled out shit from Bill Simmons about game 4 of the Lakers series, well, let's just say I would rather be raped Curt Schilling style (y'know, by wild animals with George Bush masks over their heads) than to read that shit. I don't even know if the predictable anti-Colts football columns could bring me back into his readership. I am pretty sure that the piece of shit is going to wax poetically about the comeback: "Doc Rivers started this year as the coach we loved to hate, now he is becoming our coach. Just listening to him rally the troops really sets the mood in the Sports Guy Mansion."
Here is what any reasonable observer would have to say about this:
"Just watched another finals game, and did Doc Rivers purchase 'Coaching Cliches for Inept Coaches' before the playoffs. How much more 'ra-ra, let's put it to 'em' bull shit can these fucking drunk ginger kids on the East Coast take? I'm sure Bill Simmons will get a woody for it, but I'd love for once if he'd actually point something out on his own team (sorta like, y'know, the inability to call a moving screen on Kevin Garnett). Instead, I guess we'll have to settle for cheap Kobe jokes* and mindless defenses of soft bitches (I don't give a shit if he was stabbed one hundred and eleven times, the motherfucker was at a night club, so I'm sure alcohol was involved and that he was not exactly the innocent bystander you make him out to be)."
*That's right Simmons, I have officially disowned you after your last column. Just because Paul Pierce is a little bitch and just because it isn't out of the realm of possibility that he faked his injury doesn't mean you have to be a fucking cunt and churn out a Kobe sexual assault joke whose creativity is beneath even the sperm living in my nutsack--or on your wife's face, of course, ironically unlike the cock-juggling cunt that accused Bryant of rape, we never know what your wife looks like, but that doesn't stop her from periodically taking anonymous cheap shots at anything and everything whenever ESPN.com decides to let her fill in for you. My guess is she is make-up whore who is just around the corner from Botox...and the type of woman who will send your spawn with you to Starbucks while your gardener does her dirty in your own bedroom.
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