@KOrtizzle Straws Mooner’s Camel


So. I want to thank Kathleen Ortiz for providing the straw, that last straw of my straw-filled day. I spent the entire morning playing referee and marriage counselor to Rick Perry and Rush Limbaugh, and all I got from my efforts was frustration and a thick coating of pig snot and ostrich tears.

My pet pig blubbers like a two year old and blows these big snot bubbles from his snout. Whenever they pop, it’s like this explosion of yesterday’s tapioca pudding. Any of you guys who have lived with a pig know what I’m talking about.

The worse, however, are Rick Perry’s tears. With eyes the size of billiard balls, and a cavernous empty skull to manufacture tears, my ostrich can soak a Willie Nelson tee shirt and a pair of cargo shorts with just a half-dozen weepy blinks.

I captured a tear last time he went on a crying jag and I collected a quarter-cup of yellowish and stinky liquid. Ostrich tears are oily, leave a brown stain like gourd juice, and smell like dogs’ feet.

Anyway, so my morning was taken with me trying to broker a modicum of happiness between the two alleged gay lovers. Of course the entire morning was spent in the closet where my two favorite barnyard pets reside.

Then I had my Hearing to plead-out on my recent arrest charges, from the Catholic Abortion Protest Lady incident, and that was a total cluster fuck. My scheduled judge got food poisoning at lunch and Hangman Hooper was his replacement. Judge Hooper is the guy Streaker Jones blackmailed to get me out of jail awhile back. Caught him eating Jello shots out of Agnes Caterwaul’s bellybutton.

Agnes is secretary, not wife, and that entire story lies hidden in my soon-to-be-published book. A copy of the CreateSpace writer’s info package was with me, and I worked on it while I was waiting for the Judge to arrive. He kept me waiting for two hours, stepped to his bench, called my case to order, said, “Thirty years in Huntsville, you inappropriate asshole,” pounded his gavel, grinned down at me and left.

Jeff, he’s my lawyer, started laughing and when I asked at what, he says to me, he said, “I’m gonna have a great Christmas bonus this year.”

Then I got home and opened Twitter to read some tweets. I follow @KOrtizzle because I think Kathleen Ortiz might be smart. She says smart things, interesting things. But her post yesterday informed me that Tim Tebow just signed a big book deal. Reading that post was the capper to my crappy day.

If I had to guess, there would be maybe a thousand well-written books, books deserving publication because of content and style, which will go unpublished. Each book authored by a new and struggling writer who will be ignored by the industry because he lacks celebrity or contacts.

But Tim Tebow, because he is a fine Christian boy and a star athlete, signs a publishing deal to write an “inspirational” book.

Fuck me running.

OK, I admit that I hate Florida and most of the rest of the Southeastern Conference sports teams. I admit that Timmy is a fine young man who has done well for himself. But examine the underlying facts first.

If I was 6’3” and 245 pounds of pure muscle, could run like a fullback and pass a football with reasonable accuracy, then I could be inspired by any number of things to be a successful player. So could you. Come to think of it, I almost fit that mold as a kid, but my motivations were money and getting laid.

In the last few years, I’ll bet there have been maybe fifty college-aged athletes with similar athletic characteristics who have been inspired to succeed like Tim Tebow. And done so with the same level of success and human grace.

What pisses me off about this dealie is the why of choosing Tim from among the others to write a book. Quite simply, the why is his Christianity.

Publishers know that every charismatic Christian, each right-wing Christian religious fuckwad, and even some nice Christians will buy the book. And brag on it no matter how well written it may be. It’s all about having a market, which the book will have in spades, and I’m unhappy about it.

He’ll be on Oprah, and Today and GMA and Fox and even make a visit to that fuckball Jay Leno’s show. He’ll be billed as , “And now bestselling author,” Tim Tebow, causing me to mute the fucking TV whenever I catch the slightest glimpse of his All-American boy-face.

Thanks Kathleen Ortiz. You owe me a Carta Blanca beer. Or six.

Manana, y’all.

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