Balls of Power
When tiny plastic balls conspire with destiny to see it fit to award me $300 million tonight [before execution of the lump-sum option and government taxes, which should leave me with approximately $100 mil and some change], I won't forget you guys, the little people, who have supported me and my penny-less existence for so many years.
That being said--it's never to early to start kissing butt.
Things I will buy with my new-found wealth:
1. Notre Dame Season Football tickets--for eternity. Right behind the ND bench. That way, my wife can pat Brady Quinn on the ass after every series. That's my gift to her.
2. Private jet--Lear, perhaps. Gold belt buckles for everyone. And a stripper pole. That's right, a stripper pole. Screw the FAA.
3. The Batmobile©. With missiles. Minus that fairy-boy Robin, and his fat cousin Batgirl. And a stripper pole.
4. A fully-functioning Lightsaber©. From now on, I will wear nothing but Jedi© robes to work. When some lacky points at me and scoffs, "He thinks he is a Jedi©!", I will ignite my Lightsaber and cut off his face. Then I will meditate--for a Jedi© uses the Force© for knowledge and defense, never attack.
5. A jet-pack. Not the George Michael "kamikaze" special (complete with instructional video completely in Mandarin Chinese), but the James Bond hidden-under-your-Armani-suit type jet-pack. I'll be the first Jet Jedi©. Who needs the Force© when you've got a jet-pack? Why didn't Darth Vader have a jet-pack? Then fairy-boy Luke would never have chopped off his hand. Loser.
6. X-ray glasses. Self-explanatory.
7. A movie studio. Like Miramax. Maybe Paramount. But not MGM--dear God, not MGM.
8. A mountain hideaway. Where else would I keep the Griffin?
9. A beach-front hideaway. I want to see what Jimmy Buffett keeps singing about. I also might finally launch my idea of "Moogarittas"--you know, scientifically-enhanced cows which give tequilla milk. Get used to the idea.
10. The A-team. Self-explanatory. But if I must explain, two words: job & protection. And maybe a third: Murdoch (comic relief). But Face would have to go--there's only room for four members on the A-team.
Oh, and I'm sharing it with everyone. Remember, I'm no better than any of you.
Except the Lightsaber©--I'm not sharing that. Only a fully-trained Jedi© can handle a Lightsaber©. Or somebody rich enough to afford one. And that's not you. So sod off until you're better than me.
That being said--it's never to early to start kissing butt.
Things I will buy with my new-found wealth:
1. Notre Dame Season Football tickets--for eternity. Right behind the ND bench. That way, my wife can pat Brady Quinn on the ass after every series. That's my gift to her.
2. Private jet--Lear, perhaps. Gold belt buckles for everyone. And a stripper pole. That's right, a stripper pole. Screw the FAA.
3. The Batmobile©. With missiles. Minus that fairy-boy Robin, and his fat cousin Batgirl. And a stripper pole.
4. A fully-functioning Lightsaber©. From now on, I will wear nothing but Jedi© robes to work. When some lacky points at me and scoffs, "He thinks he is a Jedi©!", I will ignite my Lightsaber and cut off his face. Then I will meditate--for a Jedi© uses the Force© for knowledge and defense, never attack.
5. A jet-pack. Not the George Michael "kamikaze" special (complete with instructional video completely in Mandarin Chinese), but the James Bond hidden-under-your-Armani-suit type jet-pack. I'll be the first Jet Jedi©. Who needs the Force© when you've got a jet-pack? Why didn't Darth Vader have a jet-pack? Then fairy-boy Luke would never have chopped off his hand. Loser.
6. X-ray glasses. Self-explanatory.
7. A movie studio. Like Miramax. Maybe Paramount. But not MGM--dear God, not MGM.
8. A mountain hideaway. Where else would I keep the Griffin?
9. A beach-front hideaway. I want to see what Jimmy Buffett keeps singing about. I also might finally launch my idea of "Moogarittas"--you know, scientifically-enhanced cows which give tequilla milk. Get used to the idea.
10. The A-team. Self-explanatory. But if I must explain, two words: job & protection. And maybe a third: Murdoch (comic relief). But Face would have to go--there's only room for four members on the A-team.
Oh, and I'm sharing it with everyone. Remember, I'm no better than any of you.
Except the Lightsaber©--I'm not sharing that. Only a fully-trained Jedi© can handle a Lightsaber©. Or somebody rich enough to afford one. And that's not you. So sod off until you're better than me.
tale spun by Cherith Cutestory at 1:46 PM
3 Comments:
yeah, but ? michael keaton's, adam west's, or christian bale's?
Michael Keaton's, definitely. The Adam West version has bubbles for windshields--bubbles--for the love of small animals. Virtually guarantees that any airborne attack will be a receipe for disaster. And the Christian Bale car looks like a retarded Hummer. So the Batman (1989) version, it is.
Interesting choice, JB; true the Keaton-mobile has a certain panache to it, a certain flair, a certain what does one say about it.
But you see, of the three, there really is no bad choice, you know. West's may have had bubble windows, making it a kind of bat-pope-mobile, but it was such an awesome car, and when it was parked in the batcave, it was set off so well by all the technology around it labeled with those huge bat- signs.
My choice, however, would be Bale's, because on the real, did you see how it just ripped through shit! That was awesome. There's no way that either of the other two could get up on rooftops. Man, that was sweet as hell.
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