And so, I live in fucking rock n roll hub of this universe Sarasota, and fucking, I work at Best Western, where I was tonight, downing pepperoni pizza, ranch dressing, and Lipton tea like I was living in the fucking end times, and I fucking was. The Bucs fucking whooped ass, and here I am in the geographic area that they are supposed to represent, the Gulf Coast and I feel like a fucking winner. Fucking it is not just them, for fuck's sake. Fucking forty-seven points or whatever, that is all of us, fucking kick some ass, we are fucking motherfucking winners. Ha-ha, it feels so good, and you can make fun of football fans all you want, all those backwater hicks, until you watch a fucking motherfucking game, and your team is not only winning, getting by, but fucking kicking every sorry ass city's fucking ass, then you know what it is, what that imperialist thrill is all about. Go Tampa, show those Californians, how we fucking do it here in the goddamn motherfucking Sunshine State.
And fuck yeah, I sympathize, cause I am a goddamned motherfucking winner, and maybe I was at Applebee's tonight dowing two for ones, and maybe I am at home downing something for ones that I made myself in our new mixer, and maybe I am listening to motherfucking French rap, to mothefucking MC Solaar on repeat, but yeah motherfucking maybe, because we, I, and motherfucking you, are fucking winners in this Super Bowl. Bucs! And I want to fucking fuck you, and me, and me, and me, and fucking forget about you, cause everyone else has, and I am like everyone else, and what the fuck, when you don't call me, when you are lame, and stand with worse posture than me, I think you can suck the probverbial dick, but not mine, because mine is not the proverbial one and because you are fucking lame. And fuck, let's go fucking Bucs! And fucking I want to sneak into some fucking Film Fest parties, tell me how, invite me to come with you. I want to go to Apollo Beach, and see power plant loving manatees. Fuck yeah, Bucs, fuck yeah, life and le le le!