Comeomletmeshowyouhowtodothatconga, Icannotwaitaroundforya’anylongah. FUCK OFF with that old bullshit!

Posted: June 30th, 2009 By: Dinkydoo | Under: dismissed | Tags: , ,

Dear Gloria Estefan-
What is your goddamned problem? We celebrated your latina machisma 25 years ago when you came back from a broken neck after a Jet Ski accident, or whatever you did, by putting up with your awful dancepop…salsarock…whateverthefuck your music is….and not that your songs were so unique that they DEFIED a boxed-in genre….don’t you fucking DARE take that as that, you fucking troll. We’ll call your horseshit “Latin Crossover Pop”. Hell, apparently some people felt sorry enough for you they actually BOUGHT a few of your records (your awful, awful records) because you have enough extra cash floating around the Estefan household you bought into the Miami Dolphins franchise (???).  Are you fucking kidding me right now?I would hope this an April Fool’s ribber, if only it were April. God, how I wish it were April!

Now that we’reall very  done with your embarasing song and dance show, or whatever, here you go getting involved with the hallowed National Football League. The NFL, for fuck’s sweet sake? Gloria? Why the NFL? Isn’t there a AAA baseball team-wait! I’ll bet Florida has three or four pro hockey teams by now. Get invloved with one of those! ALL of those, I don’t give a shit. Football and Gloria Estefan mix like chocolate chip cookies and Clamato. Hey now…that’s a good one liner. I oughtta remember that for future us-now I am swaying off topic here.
Fuck you, Gloria! I’ll bet you’re some massive football fan, aren’t you Gloria. I’ll bet you were doing the Ickey Shuffle, weren’t you. You were rapping along with Jim McMahon and Sweetness when they were doing the SUPER BOWL shuffle, too, I’ll bet. This is sarcasm, FYI. But seriously…
Are you going to try and design the teams uniforms, Gloria? Have your daughters or sons sing and do the cha-cha at halftime? Bring your gaggle of little dogs to the owner’s box, arriving fashionably late and leaving early to beat traffic? Did you hear about the local football team when they made an 8 game turnaround from the ’07 season and everybody was shitting themselves Dolphins’ aqua and orange? Did you think to yourself, “What is this ‘football’ everybody’s going crazy for right now? I should look into that and get involved! ASAP” Have you been unable to break into Miami’s top-notch dinner party circuit and are too apathetic to get into politics? WHAT IS IT, godddamnit!!?!?! Why? WHY???
Why isn’t anybody stopping this? And please don’t tell me that the Miami Dolphins approached Gloria Estefan. Please. I will kill myself in a red-faced baffled rage. Are you trying to fuck Dan Marino, Gloria? If you’re just trying to fuck Dan Marino and lose interest in the NFL after he shoves your head in a toilet after an advance, I can live with that. Maybe he’ll give you a pity fuck and THEN you’ll move on? Buy some car dealerships, or something? Please? Start a Target-exclusive clothing line or design a fragrance? Handbags? Anything else besides pro football? For the love of god?
Oh dear.  Somebody needs to find Mark Duper and comfort him! I know he has to be taking this news hard. At least he should be. Unless he was “Doing That Conga” in the late 80’s…in which case: fuck you, too, Mark Duper! One facebar nancyboy!
See, Gloria? Now I’m lashing out at Mark Duper, for fuck’s sake. The only end in sight is if the Dolphins lose every game for the next three seasons and the town of Miami drags Gloria out of the owner’s box (perhaps in a conga line?) and skins her alive in LandShark Stdium’s parking lot. Maybe they’ll rename it Miami Sound Machine Stadium. In that event, I will have no choice but to start watching hockey or reading books to fill my autumntime Sundays. Shutter to think it.

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Every place that is NOT Nitro, West Virginia: You’re Dismissed.

Posted: May 28th, 2009 By: Dinkydoo | Under: dismissed | Tags: , , ,

So I learned of a new (to me) place today that really piqued-NO! PEAKED! my interest. That place is Nitro, West Virginia. That’s right; NITRO. Can’t fuck with it, people!
” *Ho-Hum*Just another boring night in Nitro, I guess.” Would that even make any sense?? Not in this universe, pal! Nitro is rockin’ off of the chain 24/7! God DAMN IT, I want to be a part of it all.
Can you fucking imagine the 3,000-or-so awesome meth-fueled 26 year old momgirls who run that town right now? Do you even want to? I do! Have been all day long, in fact.
I’ll bet the life expectancy around Nitro way is under 45. Hope so, anyway. Not because I am some kind of monster who wishes death on people, more that my vision for Nitro is that of confused and extremely fast-paced (literally. Like, doing everything REALLY FAST) living in a browned woodland area. Dangerous. Exciting. Unpredictable as all hell. Hidden from the rest of the world, and why would they give a fuck. Lots of rusted out badass trucks running any/all of the town’s 10 Stop signs at will. Going into the town’s Hardees or Dairy Queen to order just a small Coke with extra straws. The Sheriff is some dude named “Cranky Ed”, whose job it is to thump you over the head if you get too far out of line. Utopia in the Aarvarks…Adirondacks…fucking Apalachies. Whatever those are called.
I wonder if there is a strip club or two in Nitro. What wonderful places those must be. Especially around lunch time during the “workweek”. Do the people of Nitro even have to work, like you and I know it here in Turdsville-Because-It’s-Not-Nitro, USA? Maybe they don’t even work there-holy crap, I just thought about what the 4th Of July must be like in downtown Nitro. New Year’s Eve. FUCK! I want in! I don’t even know if I could hang…
Oh goddamn. I just googled Nitro and it seems they are located in THE CHEMICAL VALLEY, which “at its peak in the late 1950s and early 1960s, was the leading producer of chemicals in the world”. How vague but unquestionably awesome a feat! Those were obviously over-the-table “legit” chemicals. Imagine the illegal chemicals being cooked up there now. Holy cow, I want to go there so badly. Just for a week. I don’t know if a weekend would cut it. If I could hang, I mean. I’d probably be dead in two days. Funned to death. Ol’ Cranky Ed would find my tensed-up corpse in the center of town square on Monday morning, poke my body with a stick, shake his head and mutter, “Whut’a gulldang pussy. He coodn’t hang.”
The town chant doesn’t even need a “GO!” or a “HAIL!” All they gotta do is sternly say their town’s name and there you go. “NITRO.” You say it. See? Gets their point across. The point being: DO NOT FUCK WITH THIS PLACE: WE. ROCK. I get the point, Nitro. I think you probably rule. You have to. NITRO! My stupid ass town don’t even got no town chant, for fuck’s sake. And if we do, ain’t nobody told me ‘bout it none. Some fucking town unity we got here (Not! NIIIIGHTROOOOOUGH!!!?!)
Every place else I know of: FUCK OFF! Take a seat and tip your hats to Nitro, West fucking Virginia. Just the name alone…

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