Sunday, October 30, 2005
The Conference
This kid's a beast! He flies down on kickoffs and rips off arms and legs before giving the ballcarrier a wall to run at. Stretchers come onto the field!
What do you need me for? Sounds like he's ready for Washington Redskins already,without you or me.
Me he needs, and vice versa. I'm Special Teams Coach,and without him I'm fired. And fired means no Masters.
What's that in anyway? Booze has always blocked the question.
Nobody knows. But find the right guy to blow,degree is mine.
Ah the cynical young! How would Jesus watch?
Anyway,got his English composition before he turns it in, and I thought I could read it to you,and...?
Sounds like cheating.
No! You tell me and I'll help him! You be editor and I'm tutor! Hey you teach the shit. You must know something about it.
I can't let this monster flunk out! I'm begging you!
Read the first line.
"I come down road."
Couldn't we cut the top off this fucker? Blobs out like syrup. Horsehead Brand. Caber Neigh Savage Son. It's a shoddy joke!
Who sold you this?
So I don't know wine and all that shit like you do! It tastes nice. So it comes in a box! So,Big Deal!
I can feel it rotting my socks. Okay, wine's crap. Don't stretch the farce with the gag composition. Now read the first line again. Really!
"I come down road."
You know,I've compromised by passing morons around here. Pushing submorons through takes the last shred of dignity.
Maybe we could,like,wrap the sentence into something funny or creative or some such shit?--I mean while keeping the thrust of the kid's personality.
His what?
Well,you're right. We don't want it to look like cheating.
"I come down road!" exclaimed my illiterate grandfather.
That's it! That's it! That's it!
This kid's a beast! He flies down on kickoffs and rips off arms and legs before giving the ballcarrier a wall to run at. Stretchers come onto the field!
What do you need me for? Sounds like he's ready for Washington Redskins already,without you or me.
Me he needs, and vice versa. I'm Special Teams Coach,and without him I'm fired. And fired means no Masters.
What's that in anyway? Booze has always blocked the question.
Nobody knows. But find the right guy to blow,degree is mine.
Ah the cynical young! How would Jesus watch?
Anyway,got his English composition before he turns it in, and I thought I could read it to you,and...?
Sounds like cheating.
No! You tell me and I'll help him! You be editor and I'm tutor! Hey you teach the shit. You must know something about it.
I can't let this monster flunk out! I'm begging you!
Read the first line.
"I come down road."
Couldn't we cut the top off this fucker? Blobs out like syrup. Horsehead Brand. Caber Neigh Savage Son. It's a shoddy joke!
Who sold you this?
So I don't know wine and all that shit like you do! It tastes nice. So it comes in a box! So,Big Deal!
I can feel it rotting my socks. Okay, wine's crap. Don't stretch the farce with the gag composition. Now read the first line again. Really!
"I come down road."
You know,I've compromised by passing morons around here. Pushing submorons through takes the last shred of dignity.
Maybe we could,like,wrap the sentence into something funny or creative or some such shit?--I mean while keeping the thrust of the kid's personality.
His what?
Well,you're right. We don't want it to look like cheating.
"I come down road!" exclaimed my illiterate grandfather.
That's it! That's it! That's it!
