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View Full Version : TAKE A HIKE!!! .... ~Fly away Falcon~


Senator Jay Bullworth
08-21-2007, 09:17 AM
Jerome (Senator Jay Bullworth's trusted aide-de-camp): "Yo boss, on TV: check it out....that foul owl Vick with the scowl whose 'music' was tortured howls done went and threw in the towel?"

Senator Jay Bullworth (the never indicted, never-requited, trusted pubic servant): "Not suprisingly Jerome, my good and trusted friend. And that's something to dread, 'cause When the Feds see red, they gonna be sure to make your bed, and instead, you'd be better off dead. They don't pull the trigger on an indictment unless it's a slam-dunk. Game over."

Jerome: "I hear ya, ya womanizin' bum. So....what'z yo' take on it?"

Senator Jay Bullworth: "This is just down, lost clown-with-a-frown who once owned Atlanta town. Sad case....oh well, I'll give it a half-shot."


Flashy Michael Vick was the Falcon poster boy
for his ESPN syncophants who were giddy with joy
There wasn't a superlative that network didn't employ,
These suck-up shills from Bristol blinded by a decoy

The Virginia Tech star with the "me first!" game
was 'Hokie' alright, and he lived-down-to-his-name
Killing innocent dogs, cruelly snuffing out their brains
He's evil incarnate, with lethal poison in his veins

Out jumped the apologists for poor Mike Vick
Who whined to the public: "don't judge him so quick!"
Throw your jive-*** clown down, 'cause I ain't chasin' yo' 'stick'
I'm siding with the dogs, your twisted puppy's kinda sick

Some others went so far as to try'n play the race card
I saw through their crap, saw 'em for who they really are
Point fingers, yet they end up, their hands caught-in-the-jar
Besides their 'dog' just wouldn't hunt; the case was way too bizarre.

If dumb were down and distance, he'd face 4th down and a mile
Nature's laws would slam him in jaws of crocodiles-of-the-Nile
Michael Vick's beyond sick, he's a heaping, steaming pile
Jail bride boy with your Astroglide toy, I'll 'crack' a big, wide smile.
.....slow..."the beats".....
Through your tears, you'll be working the piers
You'll be Bubba's new boy 'loading dock'
You'll regaled your new mates, 'bout your past so great
And how you carried your weed and a Glock
But once blushing & gushin' over your 1,000 yard rushing
ESPN's no longer punching your clock
It's the life you choose, trapped-in-bed, you lose
Honeymoon Suite down-the-hall: "C-Block"

Noting here that I'm just rust, minus my normal robust lust, I'm just too disgusted to have entrusted my trust in this maladjusted, now-busted and soon-to-be-crusted fool, I remain, with 'dour' heart,

Your loving servant,
Senator Jay BULLworth