Free Kosby!

We got a new member of the Writer’s Workshop.

“I am Revolutionary Ebony Blacquéz (pronounced Black-Wayz) you white-power, oppressive, literary Mother-f&%kerz! You use literature as a tool of the Capitalist, running dog, fascist pig, power structure to enslave the minds of revolutionary youth! All power to the people! Here is a list of my demands!

Free Bill Kosby!

Free Charles Mannson!

Free Reality Winter!

Free Bernie Maddofff!

Free Kathy Grifffiin!

Free Osawowwow Jones Simpson!

Free Karlos the Chacal!

Is that Macedonian espresso?”

“OK” I said, pouring Blacquéz a tiny cup of the espresso with an organic sugar cube.

“Welcome to the Writers Workshop. I am zer Botendaddy. Why are you dressed like a French mime, complete with beret, suspenders and striped shirt?”

The Trail Marker

The Trail

“Listen Mr. So-called devil Botendaddy! I heard about your oppressive condescending racist jive! I just want to say that you are man-beautiful and that I am madly, passionately, romantically in love with you in an early 19th century tragic-romantic period Poe-era way. Besides, this is my look, very pre-war Français.” He said, winking and licking his lips.

“Oh not you too?” I lamented.

“Listen everybody. I ran today. I ran down the mountain ridge and across the river. First mile 8:30, second mile time 18:48. Then it was just too hot. I ended up running 4.12 miles. Yesterday, I did my 92nd weight workout of the fiscal weight-lifting year. My strength is back, but I’m ready to lift heavy. I’m still down about 77 pounds and just inside BMI normal, like BMI 24.99.”

The New Bridge

The River and Creepy Spy Camera

“Botendaddy, you are a shit-covered, diaper-wearing, intellectually vacant, (*hot*) soulless fraud!” Shouted Blacquéz “(I love you)” He muttered under his breath.

“Your stupid blog is nothing more than a complete rip-off of S.J. Perelman’s feuilletons. It’s like Belushi’s Samurai Delicatessen (NBC) is a complete ripoff of Morgan Freeman’s You want a Banana Split? from season two of Electric Company.”

The No-one Cares Lady stood up.

“Listen, so-called Botendaddy, no-one cares about your stupid literary reviews, no-one cares about your stupid Writer’s Workshop, no-one cares about you running in your filthy, enormous, del.ic.io.us adult diaper (Ah the smell of it!). No one cares about this collection of whores, filthy old sluts, fairys, fruits f4990t5 and 8u11-Dyk35. JUST F&$K ME GODDAMN YOU RIGHT NOW! RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE! I NEED IT YOU GODDAMMNED FREAK!”

“Cinammon Latte?”

Peace be the Botendaddy

 

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About Botendaddy

Three times voted extreme sexiest man alive...by acclamation. I run because I must...I must!
This entry was posted in Critic's Corner, Dining, Exercise, Fashion, Food, People, Running, Technology, Weather and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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