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Dearest John Parker Wilson

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What's that you've got over there? Yeah, there. You know, right there in your man-purse between the Axe Body Spray and Aquanet...

Ooooh, nice. Your hopes. Wow, let's see, you've got your SEC Title hopes, your BCS Title hopes and... what's that? Wow! Heisman hopes! Boy oh boy, Johnnie, those sure are nifty. It'd be a shame for something terrible to happen to them...

Hey, have you ever heard of Tim Tebow?

Ah, never mind. I don't wanna get off topic here.

So where were we? Ah yes, your hopes! Y'see, they don't mean a damned thing to me. This is because I've got my own hopes and dreams and, while not as lofty or widely known as yours, they're certainly just as, if not more, noble. Yes, noble; such as my goal of getting a fat-assed NFL paycheck in a few months or gettin' the skins from that fly-ass blonde chick in my exercise science class.

Oh, John, you have a future alright. You may have a brief stint in the NFL, marry whoever it is you get pregnant first, and end up coaching high school football in Homewood; but that's not what my future is gonna look like. No, not at all. For me, I'm either living the NFL glory life and Lawrence Tayloring your buddy Brodie every season or I'm selling Brent Schaeffer brand jackets (shiv included*) out of the back of a Ryder truck.

You want this. I need this.

I'm more ready for this than you could imagine. I've been doing my homework.** I've been studying my playbook. This bitch is gonna be on national tv which means that it's more on than it's ever been between the two of us. I'll be poppin' up outta trap doors like the tigers in Gladiator. I'll get all Nightcrawler out there in Tuscaloosa, flashing in and out-shazzam, shazoom-and then it's your ass that's eating turf. When the cameras are on, and the whole nation is watching, I'll turn this bitch all the way to ELEVEN!

Oh, and it's not just me. Peria Jerry, one of the other big sons-of-bitches that's going to drain your bladder, has been spending hours on end at the New Hunan. Nothing adds mass like Moo Goo Gai pan, motherfucker. Kentrell Lockett's been hurdlin' SEC East left tackles day after day with hopes of scrambling that Andre Smith fella's brain. Jerrell Powe's been ridin' his scooter all over the damn place lookin' like Bowser from Mario Kart with the biggest, angriest damn frown you've ever seen on his face. Mount Cody? He's Jerrell Powe's Goddamn foothill. Chris Bowers? He's been, you know, getting his degree 'n' shit.... so... Tillman! He's as angry as a handful of hornets and just about as crazy. I hope you're not allergic, you pansy.

Get 'cha popcorn ready.


Sincerely yours,

Gregory Hardy, Archduke of Sackenstein



P.S. - Fuck you. See attached.


This shit's funny to me, John!



*HT: RichardZinya
**Before you put some "OMG how could u write that??? :( WEAR RED!!1" in our comments thread do us all a favor and lighten up.