when i grow up i want to be president

i’ll cruise around the country a few times tasting the local beer. and i’ll ring the church bells. cuz people like crazy presidents who like ringing church bells.

id duck into mtv all the time and tell the kids that they aren’t rocking hard enough, and i would turn to whatever pretty boy is holding the mic and i’ll say who’s your generation’s led zeppelin, boy? and he’ll smile and listen to the people gasping in his earpiece.

and id get to blow shit up and dress like a faker and lie and bullshit the world and get paid doing it.

and if any of you motherfuckers even say shit to me even if i fuck up, i want you to remember how you’ve treated george walker bush who has suckered you into thinking that $1.89 a gallon for gas is a bargain.

you, who called the last one Slick.

i cant believe how many unemployed and underemployed smart people i know.

i want to not have to find bin laden, not have to kill saddam, not have to be smart, and not have to have anyone smart around me.

i don’t want to have to be responsible for the stock market, or education, or crime, or terrorism, or anything.

but i do expect to take credit for winning a “war” from a country that we’ve been defanging for the last twelve years, after we blew em up good the first time.

infact i only want to fight wars against countries where the armies wave white flags and hug my troops in their dusty sandals.

i don’t want any of you saying shit about my drunken daughters or read my lips father who traded arms for hostages and also fucked the economy.

first thing im going to do when i become president is legalize some drugs and abolish the designated hitter.

if the fcc is still around i’ll abolish that waste of tax dollars before the champagne at my inaugural gets flat.

i would not hide behind children like a coward on big issues that concern adults, titties on tv being a lessor one but definitely on the list if for any reason, symbolism.

misidentified email would be ridiculously illegal, with outrageous prison terms if the first 50 lines of the email didn’t scream SPAM in 36 pt times roman bold. yes you have the right to get your message to people, but you don’t have the right to fill the internet with penis enlargement scamolas and pictures of Barnyard Fun for our children to accidentally see.

id put pete rose in the hall of fame, and id put ticketmaster out of business, if not jail.

every child would be issued an electric guitar.

and i fucking swear to you, if any of you even say a word im going to remind you that on may first two thousand and three when the washington post and abc news asked 1,105 americans if they thought the country was going in the right direction, the majority of them said yes.

im expecting you to give me that sort of support.

especially when the assassination attempts begin once i start taxing the rich.

and i will tear down the lights in wrigley, and i will melt them down

and make public urinals from all of them.

alecia is now legal

fuck the pick n roll

fuck the bounce pass, fuck the set shot, fuck the underhand free throw, fuck greg ostertag and jeff hornasek, and fuck utah for keeping the name the Jazz after they got up and moved out of new orleans for salt lake.

the utah jazz is the example for mediocraty in sports, and even though jerry sloan was a chicago bull when i grew up there and i went to his basketball camp, and he took a picture with me, and autographed it, fuck jerry sloan for not doing what it took to adjust to magic’s showtime lakers, mj’s triangle offense, the twin towers in san antone, or the new look lakers with kobe and that other guy.

bloggers all over slc should be raising their fists in unison while drinking coca cola and denouncing the stockton and malone era with a hearty fuck you.

my (legitamate) children will never pretend to be the mailman rolling off a high screen in the driveway of our home awaiting a pass as they head for the hoop, and i will be glad. what they will do is walk backwards from the charity stripe in measured steps so that they can attempt a slam like mj.

what they will do is practice their baseline 360s like kobe.

what they will do is pretend to win back to back titles like the admiral Dream.

the only time they will even mention stockton or malone is while taunting their younger siblings who theyve just defeated, mercilessly.

i dont have anything against the good people of utah, dont get me wrong.

some of my best friends are losers.

i do have a problem with owners who see their future hall of famers aging and do very little to help them get the ring that they sorta deserve.

how is it that the dallas mavericks were able to build the great young team that they have in only a matter of years? dumb luck? i dont think so.

couldnt the jazz have gotten some of the clippers that donald sterling was so happy to unload year after year? how come michael wasnt given the royal treatment to join the jazz the way he joined the wizards? why is elton brand playing at staples instead of the delta center?

when you have two superstars who have done nothing but bring class (except for the lame AIDS ignorance that malone spewed when magic announced that he had HIV) and style and grace and muscle to your hapless little team for nearly 20 years, there comes a time when you should feel like you owe them a little loyalty in return via free agents or trades, cuz lord knows the jazz hasnt been able to draft smart in a long time.

here’s their first round picks over the last two decades: 2002 — Ryan Humphrey, Notre Dame; 2001 — Raul Lopez, Real Madrid (Spain); 2000 — DeShawn Stevenson, Washington Union HS (CA); 1999 — Quincy Lewis, Minnesota, Andrei Kirilenko, CSKA (Russia), Scott Padgett, Kentucky; 1998 — Nazr Mohammed, Kentucky; 1997 — Jacque Vaughn, Kansas; 1996 — Martin Muursepp, Kalev Talinn (Estonia); 1995 — Greg Ostertag, Kansas; 1994 — None; 1993 — Luther Wright, Seton Hall; 1992 — None 1991 — Eric Murdock, Providence; 1990 — None; 1989 — Blue Edwards, East Carolina; 1988 — Eric Leckner, Wyoming; 1987 — Jose Ortiz, Oregon State; 1986 — Dell Curry, Virginia Tech; 1985 — Karl Malone, Louisiana Tech; 1984 — John Stockton, Gonzaga.

nice job losing, jazz, now that you have lost your anchors you wont have the misery of losing in the playoffs year after year after year, because you wont make it there any more.

beta blog + hot mass girls + wKen show

howard owens is a good man.

anyone who keeps score at a ball game is definitely okay with me.

he also plays really good music in his car. last night we heard curtis mayfield’s greatest hits. it was super great. last time it was the new johnny cash record.

howard’s also got some secret plans he’s working on that im terribly jealous of.

thanks to howard’s generosity i got to formally meet steve smith from smythe’s world, got to hang out with my buddy matt and my pal basart (who i think has a web site, but im not sure if it’s open to the public).

we talked about a wide variety of important topics such as taxing Indian gambling, who the Dems need to nominate to beat Bush again next time, and the importance of laws that actually reflect the real beliefs of the taxpayers and not the made up morals of politicians who say certain things and pass certain laws not because they believe them but because they think they need to say those things to get re-elected.

i had a super dodger dog, nachos, and a diet coke.

we got to witness odalis perez pitch a complete game shut out.

i will forget the fact that dodger manager jim tracy took odalis out of the game with two outs in the ninth.

welch stood up and said, “hey, tracy, boooo.”

basart drank a budweiser from a plastic bottle.

i had a great time.

afterwards we all drank at the rustic where we met up with the beautiful emannuelle, the lovely charlie hornberger, the always energetic oswald q. tyler, and the leader of the free world mr. steve coulter who told me some juicy tsar secrets that made me extremely happy.

when i got home a college girl caught me on the instant messenger and typed some really nice dirty stuff and showed me some nudes.

the only thing that would have made it a perfect evening was if the cubs had won.

maybe next year.

howard owens + steve smith + nothing special web hosting