And now, a special word from our Football Savior …
I feel for all of you meat bags, I really do. You spend your whole lives chasing false idols (even when you’re not supposed to …), imagining things that aren’t there, crying in showers, and dreaming of all of your missed opportunities throughout life. Really, escapism is the only reality you want to believe in, and whether that is through the unpredictable drama of sports or tragic downfall of idolized celebrit-utes, it allows you depressing mortals to find pleasure outside of your paltry existence.
And when some shit goes wrong in that false reality? Shit gets buck up in Heaven.
I know a lot of you are upset with several iconic deaths over the past week. First, let me just say that making the call on their time to go isn’t up to me quite yet. That’s still Dad’s job. I haven’t exactly figured out why He makes His decisions when He does, either, which is probably why I’m still inspiring millions by playing football in front of all of you right now. All I know is that He has His reasons.
Like with Farrah Fawcett. I’m sure from an Earth perspective it was a tragic death to watch, what with her fight with cancer and her blonde moments throughout life. And her body! Even at her late age, I would still have treated her to a buttery shrimp meal and a foot massage before making her see stars later that evening. They don’t call me the widow maker for nothing. And while most of you will now have her slide from your collective consciousness like many other passing flames of life in the world, I get to still partake in this lovely affair up in Heaven where everything is for free. And so does Dad, you see. So her passing, while difficult for you, is pretty easily explained from a Heavenly perspective; Dad needed some fresh booty to brighten up to his palace, and what better foxy lady to do it than Farrah? While many of you succumb to carnal sins of the flesh, especially over her, don’t act like you humans were the first people to think of doing so. Pops has been fawning over her since before I was sent back, with that poster over his bed and everything. It was frequently awkward.
The other big news breaker, Michael Jackson, is probably even easier to explain. First, I know. You’re all heart broken, world wide, over this guy that could moon walk and do dance moves like he’s broken every joint in his body. Every time he looks into the camera during his “Rock With You” video as a youngster, your heart melts because you think he’s singing directly to your heart. I’m talking to both the misses and the misters out there, too. Sexy? I don’t know, you tell me, but he could definitely entertain. And while most of you in recent years seem to have already thought of him in the past tense (Don’t lie, you pretend he had already died after, like, 1993), my Dad was gracious enough to curb his desire for an in person, Infinity Tour Michael Jackson performance in Heaven. But no longer, not after you people continue to take that talent for granted and focus on woman beaters like Chris Brown. Oh, sure, Jacko had his fare share of child appreciating issues, but from my long term perspective, he was just going Roman on those kids, trying to find an adequate underling that he could tutor to take his place when he left, and you all started crying … like now. Instead, you all condemned him rather handily and now you’re left with nothing. Not like you “modern thinkers” would understand that though. Regardless, Dad waited long enough for some of you to try to take notice of him again, but he had become a novelty to you people, so He booked a ticket to the Infinity Tour and will be able to groove with Farrah to Jackson hits forever in Heaven now. Your loss. Well … obviously …
Finally, I guess the Billy Mays death is pretty obvious as well, when you consider what kind of sexiness will occur when Dad, Farrah, and Jackson all get together on the Persian rugs in front of the throne. Let’s just say that OxiClean is the only thing that will be able to clean up the mess, and Dad can leave a Heaven of a mess.
So again, I apologize on His behalf, but He didn’t just make these calls without purpose. Think of it as a delayed investment for you, assuming of course that you didn’t fuck the pooch while on Earth and end up going somewhere else when you die. You’ll be able to see everyone again and have that personal concert from Jackson like you’ve always wanted. And if anything, I know humans are fairly resilient. So while you are currently overwhelmed with grief by the passing of these three great people, I have total confidence in all of you that you’ll be able to latch on to Megan Fox, Justin Timberlake, and Vince the ShamWow guy with ease.
So, again, sorry about all of this, but now it’s back to your depressing reality as a Vikings fan. At least until Brett Favre signs.