Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Ok so basically, I’m pretty sure that the New York Post runs stories about sports mega stars making children cry when they have nothing else better to do. I mean, admittedly, it is kind of a good story format because you get all the elements you need for a rousing dinner party anecdote but really it’s just the same story as David Beckham not seeing some kid whose mother bought charity item tickets to a Beckham game which included meeting him afterwards earlier this week.

Here are the details for this charmer:

Michael Jordan was leaving the Kobe Club in Miami, which, and I’m taking a wild guess here but I think you’ll agree with me, is a more than likely a club that serves only slabs of Kobe beef on platters dripping with blood for exorbitant prices to vampires and celebrities. There are very few poor vampires as we know, so, the price can be sky high and as a result the club can be exclusively for the rich, famous and violently bloodthirsty. Sadly, you can’t get real kobe beef in the US because it’s the Champagne of Japan and can only be bought in Japan. You can get a virtually identical product but it’s not kobe beef and as a result the club is built on lies.

Anyway, so back to the central point. Some kid was standing outside waiting for Michael Jordan and he begged Michael Jordan for an autograph but Michael Jordan ignored him and drove off. The kid was even wearing Michael Jordan shoes. The 250 dollar sneakers.

The Post’s item wasn’t too long but I would bet that that kid was in a Hessian sack and Michael Jordan shoes and that he was an abuse victim orphan who could barely breathe due to juvenile emphysema brought on by his white slave trade involved smoker parents who died in a car crash after putting him in the back seat of a car without strapping him in and driving off drunk and while driving at full speed screaming abuse at him as he tried gently to show them a picture of a freaking cat and a house that he’d drawn. The house had a swirly line to represent smoke coming out of the chimney. He survived because he was thrown out the front window and the mountains of fat that leaked out of his mother’s severed gut cushioned his fall onto the road. The mother existed on a diet of frosting, Jack Daniels, cigarettes, and tissue paper when she randomly felt like she should diet so that’s why she was so fat. He begged and pleaded with passers by for money to buy food, went hungry and found a Hessian sack to wear when his clothes wore out, bought the sneakers with his food money and walked 20 miles to the Kobe Club in the hopes of finding Jordan.

Then, the rich and powerful, narcissistic Michael Jordan walked out in front of the Kobe Club after nibbling a little at a 6000 dollar steak before throwing it away and laughing at the indulgence of it all, called for 3 18 year old hookers to be placed in his limo, as he made his way to the door and barged past the small, selfless abuse victim boy. The boy cried a single tear for it was all the energy he had left.

He dropped his camera and fell to his knees. His soul had cracked.

Yeah, that’s what really happened. The moral the Post wants you to remember is that really highly paid sports stars hate and probably eat children. They also feed off the sadness of children so…aren’t you glad you found that out? [source]

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