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November 22, 2004
Detroit Basketball Fan (Expletives Deleted) Tells It Like It IsOutrage over Hamburger Prices and Crybaby Millionaire ThugsMan, don't blame the (expletive deleted) fans. We're not the bad boys. Blame the players, those crybaby millionaires. Boo hoo. Boo (expletive deleted) hoo. They started it. Bunch of losers. Yeah, I was there. In the third (expletive deleted) row. Right behind the scorer's table. Yeah, man, I threw a punch or too. Strictly self-defense. So let the cops look at the tapes and come around looking for me. I was just protecting myself. The tapes'll show that. They'll see. It's the (expletive deleted) spoiled brat crybaby millionaires they should go after. Did I throw the cup? No (expletive deleted) way, man. Not this dude. Just mindin' my own business. But that (expletive deleted) Artest. He had it comin'. You wanna know somethin' else? I'm sick of these (expletive deleted) pretty boy so-called commentators on the television blaming the fans. Trash-talking fans, hoodlum fans. That's what they say. No way man. It's not us. We're just trying to watch a (expletive deleted) basketball game. You wanna know why the fans are like the way they are, man? I'll tell you. Know how much I paid for my seat? Are you ready for this? Two hundred and fifty dollars. I'm not kidding you. That's a lot of money for me. A lot. I ain't one of them (expletive deleted) rich guys up in the sky boxes with their babes hanging on them. I work for a living. At half-time I went out to the concession area and got a soft drink, a hamburger, fries, onion rings, and a bag of donuts. Know what it cost me? Cost me (expletive deleted) forty-seven dollars. Know what I paid to park so that I don't have to walk five miles from my truck? Forty dollars. Can you believe that? Like I said, it all adds up. It's a lot of money for me. I fry my (expletive deleted) in the summer and freeze my (expletive deleted) in the winter up there nailing shingles on roofs all day long. I spend a lot of money to come here. I want to see a good game and have a good time, not these trash-talking millionaire crybabies. Why don't the commissioner do something to clean up this cesspool. Why let someone like Artest intentionally foul Wallace? It may be legal, but it ain't right. I say, don't let 'em play like that. They should be (expletive deleted) gentlemen out there. Not thugs. If the players were gentlemen, so would the fans. Let the cops come looking for me. I'll tell them a thing or two about how beeball should be played. Guess we showed them crybabies, didn't we? Copyright 2003-2004 William Stockton & Smithtown Creek Productions |
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