Pungsnotded

The Baldwins and the Superbowl.

February 3rd, 2008

Do not invite the Baldwin’s to your Superbowl party. They will drink ALL the beer, and pee outside, right in front of your neighbors. They will push and shove, and you know those Baldwin’s will double dip. They are big old brutes and bullies and attention-seeking whores. They are the kind of brothers that will wrestle right in your dining room, and break everything, and then hug each other all brother-like, and when you tearfully pick up the pieces of your chili-pepper appetizer dish with the sombrero in the middle, do you know what those Baldwin’s will do? They will laugh and hug each other, whispering something about bros before hos. And without even knowing the significance of Jackson Pollock pissing in the fireplace, one of those brothers is bound to try and put out your gas-log-fire with urine. They will punch each other in the arms and play kill the guy with the gun, and mainline cocaine right off of your coffee table, their big old heads, right in the way, so you cannot see the game. Oh, and you know that there has to be a Baldwin smell, you know those bigheadedbrothers, stink, a putrid mixture of Old Spice, stale beer, and man sweat. The Baldwin’s will never respect you, never thank you, never pick up a check, they would spill all the Chex Mix on the floor and then stomp on in crushing that stuff, into your carpet, while laughing and spewing pretzel crumbs across the room. The Baldwin’s think they are the coolest, and they aren’t afraid of anybody. Because they can team up against anyone, and you know they do not fight fair. So do yourself a favor and when those coked-up, drunk, sorry excuses for friends show up, pounding at your door, just hide behind the couch and do not answer the door.

Namaste, Satanic Dentists! Happy Superbowl!

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