Hello. Sorry for the absence. I woke up from a two month black out, and the world was a different place. In international news, that douche with the beard, who made those low budget, hipster-esque films from the inside of a mountain, is finally dead . He took two bullets to the head, and I hope everybody took their keys and punched some holes in the sides of beer cans to celebrate. He's getting nibbled by fishes right now, which, ironically, is some kinky stuff that he'd probably enjoy. Did you hear about his epic pornography stash that the SEALs found during the raid? Even the scumbag's own three wives wouldn't sleep with him. Serves him right. He can go meet those forty virgins as a virgin himself, and I hope they all break it to him that while he was hiding out in mountains, playing with himself, they all decided to pursue their lesbian inclinations.
What's terrifying me the most right now, is the precarious state of football, both college and professional. On the college level, it seems as though the mafia secretly runs the BCS. Wait, that's not even a secret. The NCAAFia totally exists, and everybody knows it. The "computer" rankings? Are you joking? Its like we're listening to that massive artificial brain in I, Robot but forgetting that it tried to eliminate the human race. Also, Ohio State is a wreck. You've always got to watch out for those tattoo artists. That's just a sketchy job to begin with. I think I'd trust John Madden with a dozen chocolate topped Dunkin Donuts before I'd trust Randy the Tattoo Guy with a business transaction. I'm just worried that this isn't the end of college football's issues. At some point, the close knit cartel of self-interested, burn out thugs that comprises 75% of college football will eventually unwind. People, who think themselves superstars despite having accomplished nothing, always find ways to trip over their own feet. Just ask the "stars" of the Surreal Life. Nobody spends a season with Jose Canseco, a midget, and a member of the Brady Bunch and manages to recover their career. They'll lose their sanity and their credibility, but they may however gain entry into the purgatory of all television: Celebrity Apprentice.
Right now, professional football does not exist. That is a problem. I apologize for my selfishness because the absence of football is only a minor problem for me, but for Albert Haynesworth, it is a major issue. His health literally cannot withstand another week without practice. He seriously almost faced charges for road rage after he looked over at the woman driving next to him and thought she was trying to antagonize him by eating a delicious looking Big Mac in front of him. While in his state of blood lust, Albert was about to consume the lady herself, but when he found out she was actually devouring a Whopper he decided to let up. He only eats beneath the Golden Arches. Their dollar menu is out of this world.
Despite the flaws of the football world, summer is upon us, and its time to erase everything you absorbed this past semester, and turn to more important topics like sipping Coronas on a beautiful Caribbean beach. Just kidding, if you're not binge drinking Natty Light on the porch of your Ocean City hotel and yelling profanities at the poor pedestrians, who were unlucky enough to walk on the sidewalk beneath you, you don't know what summer is. Here's a great song with which to ring in the the heat:
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