Hockey Isn’t Violent Enough For Tiger

Yeah, I hate hockey.

I can’t stand Elin gushing over those goddamn Red Wings! She asks me why I don’t have Holmstrom’s badonkadonk. Because I don’t eat fried chicken every night! And Zetterberg’s eyes! Holy shit, if I have to hear that that socialist sonofabitch makes her want to masturbate with a hammer and sickle one more time, I’m gonna take a pitching wedge to the back of his leg!

But it’s not just hockey that I can’t stand. I hate all sports. Basketball? It’s too damn easy to score. Call me when the hoops are 100 feet high. Baseball? A bunch of honkies standing around. Don’t believe that Dodgers garbage. I’m only at the game to look for pussy. Football? A bunch of roided cows standing around for forty seconds and then running into each other. Golf? The same as football minus the collisions. I need a real sport.

That’s why I endorse hot potato with live grenades. You take a bunch of Mexican border crossers and stick ‘em in a bomb-proof shelter, like the one I have in Florida. Pull an F1’s plug and toss it to one of ‘em. They keep tossing it around to their brother, sister, parent, infant, whoever. When someone’s large intestine sees the light of day, you throw another live F1 in there. Last one alive gets a green card. Sure, their first reaction is to drop the thing and run like hell, but ol’ Eldrick wired the grenade to explode if it comes in contact with the ground. The first ten groups didn’t get it, so the matches were a little short, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t impressed with the entrail pattern that covered the arena. Gave it an avant-garde look.

Any of those goddamn Swedes gonna play? Hell no. Bunch of pussies.


1 Comment

  1. Mats Sundin is against explosives of any kind. No way he plays.

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