Just wanted to drop you a line and say thanks. Not for anything you and the Wizards have done on the court, mind you, because you guys seriously suck out loud.
No, I wanted to thank you for taking over as this month's Sports Antichrist and making everyone forget that I'm hiding out in the middle of the ocean somewhere.
Seriously, if anyone can relate to prolonged bouts of piss-poor judgment, it's me. I cheated on a mega-hot Swedish model with a bunch of chicks who flirt with truckers and frat boys to get an extra dollar on their tip. And the occasional porn star.
Ahh, much better. Sorry, got this weird itching and burning that just won't go away. Seriously, man, I might have to go stick my balls in an ice bucket before I finish this letter.
But, you know what? Guys everywhere are still looking at me and thinking (even if they won't say it out loud) "Dude, Random Chick #33291 was pretty damn hot. Go, Tiger." They look at you and think, "Seriously? You're making over $16 million this year, and you're trying to go all OK Corral on some bench scrub because he owed another bench scrub $1100 from a card game?"
Yeah, I'm probably throwing away half a BILLION dollars, but I can still go back and play golf on Jason Whitlock's favorite tour, the Pussy Galore Association. I can still gets mine, ya heard? Paid in full, like Rakim used to say. Man, they're talking about taking your livelihood AWAY. No more $80 mil that you still got coming. Morals clause is gonna be a dirty word in your house.
And what do you do to deflect the situation? You go call David Stern "mean"? You and ya boys decide it'll be fun to play-shoot each other with finger pistols before a game? Man, ya got balls, that's all I can say. Dumber than a brick or crazier than a shithouse rat, I can't decide which, but ya got balls, Gil.
I guess some people saw this comin', though. The NBA knew you were the wrong dude to fuck wit, didn't they? Especially when you had some seven-foot brontosaurus gettin' all up in your woman. Last thing they wanted was some dude gettin' strapped and steppin' into Shaq's personal space, huh?
Oh, yeah, I still get ESPN and all sorts of crazy online stuff on my boat way out here in [location unknown]. You should see it, man. I got a couple of nice cocktail waitresses down here for entertainment. Big gun closet, too. You could pull out and shoot whatever flew by if you wanted...or just hold the gun up and sing, since that seems to be more your speed.
But for real, man, it's starting to look like you're not gonna have much else to do for a few months. Hit me back and we'll work out a place where I can swing by and pick you up. It'd be just two guys on the high seas, shootin' their own kinds of loads. But not together, 'cuz that'd just be gross. Seriously, I don't roll like that.
Don't be tweeting this shit, though, or the wrong people might find out about it and you might get caught in the crossfire.
Seriously. You saw what that crazy bitch did to my Escalade.
Holla at ya boy,