I Did It! I Humiliated the NFL into Capitulation

Risking almost certain legal action in the form of a cease and desist order, I defaced the vaunted NFL Shield and humiliated those billionaire, yambag-sagging to their knees owners into doing the right thing.

Posted yesterday, and with over a dozen views, both Charles Barkley and Aaron Rodgers gave me props in tweets, sent out soon after the announcement. I expect thanks from all you NFL fans in the form of sexual favors, everlasting friendships or everlasting gobstoppers.

Where is Roger Goodell?

Where is Roger Goodell?

The NFL is a joke. The owners are pulling a Romney, making everyone miserable to save $3.3 million.

That's the equivalent of 3.3 cents to an NFL owner. Woody Johnson doesn't bother to bend over to pick up 3.3 million dollars. It's not worth the effort. Jerry Jones? He fell asleep at halftime, and he, in theory, lives in Dallas where it wasn't midnight.

Roger Goodell earns $20 million a year to do nothing. See, I told you that the NFL owners consider it pocket change.

So, where is Roger Goodell?
Hiding under a really, really big pile of money.
Sexting Mrs. Seau.
Holed up in a love shack with Robert Craft and Ricki Noel Lander.
Shredding all the proof linking pro football to traumatic brain injury.
Lighting the owner's Cuban cigars with 1,000 dollar bills while they take turns buggering him.
Fiddling while Rome burns.
In negotiations, with Archie Manning, trying to get him to impregnate his wife.
Spooning a drooling Jerry Jones.
In the ESPN chapel, tebowing Golden Tate.

Hopefully, I will add punchlines that are actually funny. I'm calling in the Replacement Writers to take over. Any ideas?

That's the 2nd Most Exciting E-mail I've Ever Seen

I got an e-mail from that guy.

It said, and I quote "Wanted to know if you had some time this week or next to discuss working together." Mr. Skin wanted to work with me! Finally, my singular talent was being recognized. I would spend the rest of my life getting paid for doing something I truly love, looking for glimpses of naked chicks.

Strangely, the e-mail was not from MrSkin@MrSkin.com, it was from BobJohnson@MrSkin.com. I fired off a reply stating that I would only discuss my future career with the actual Mr. Skin. Bob Johnson's e-mail came back surprisingly quick. In Mr. Skin's world, "working together" meant hosting some banner ads on one of my sites, CircusAfterDark.com -- a site that the bean counters at Mr. Skin identified as having "Lots of Hot Celeb content and highly targeted traffic."

I held back the tears. Crushed, I informed Mr. Johnson that CircusAfterDark.com got about 50 visitors a day. At the current click-through pay rate, I estimated that I could expect a $5 check from Mr. Skin in about 300 years.

The first naked boobies I ever saw on TV was on local Channel 9 in NYC. It was an accident. Someone forgot to cut the nude scenes out of an old movie shown late at night. It was the greatest 5 seconds of my life. My friend Rick spent the next five years scanning the TV Guide every week for the movie and amazingly, the nude scene kept popping up until inevitably, years later, the censors got busy censoring.

For an extremely rare, UncleMelon.com How to Eat Pussy t-shirt* name the movie and the owner of the aforementioned boobies.

* Readers of the blog PoundTheBudweiser and members of their family are not eligible for this contest.

Throwback Thursday - Receiving a Major Award

In 1976, at the Humboldt County Fair, Best Buggering - Ewe.  I keep it next to my Peabody, Emmy and Booker in the box in the storage unit.

I know what you're thinking, that's one fine-looking velour windbreaker. I still wear it on chilly nights.  And yeah, I daddy warbucked Little Often Annie behind the pig racing venue.  Sadly, Britney Spareribs did not join in the fun.