[GB/archives/includes/imagesother.htm]

Rumble With Phil

Walking out to my car the other day after work, I saw this shadowy figure standing underneath a maple tree, tossing a tennis ball up in the air, and catching it, and tossing it back up. As I approach my car door, I see the figure walk toward me. It looked to be a man, around 6'4", 235 pounds, balding, wearing a shirt that read, "Don't Mess With Texas." I put my things in the backseat and look back up and the man is standing at my passenger side door.

"So you think I'm an asshole, eh?" he stated. "You think I get my jollies out of yelling at fat people? Do you really think I'm not a doctor? I think it's time to get real about your hate problem, Mr. GotBuckey."

My eyes got wide. "Phil," I stammered. Right there stood Phil McGraw himself, fists clinched, and I'm sure he was grasping a roll of quarters to help his cause. "How'd you find me, you fat piece of dog shit?"

"I've got my connections, sir. That's what 5 years of boinking Oprah gets you," he said as he gave me a devilish grin.

Without a moment's notice, Dr. Phil raises his fist and swings it in my direction. Lucky for me, all Texans swing like sissies, so I had ample time to duck out of the way. Using my ninja-like instincts I roll behind a 1988 Chevy Astro Van and broke off its tailpipe with my teeth, like a true hero. Now I was ready to rumble.

When I emerged from behind the van, Phil had summoned the help of Oprah and his equally as untalented son, Jay McGraw.

"So you want to play dirty, eh, bitches?" That's when I decided to stop dicking around, and flattened all three of them with a monstrous slap from my 56 pound man piece I have appropriately named, "Daaaaaaaaaaamn."

And then I woke up.