Can I move to Qatar? You don’t have to worry about getting your Android phone rammed up your anus hole outside of Grand Central at 2 in the morning. Then again, it’s my year without beer, so I wouldn’t be in a desperate dash to catch the last train heading back to Westchester.
Thug Lives Matter Most knocks out the lushy, disgruntled ad executive for Ogilvy and Mather with just one viscous right hook to the ground. Ad Executive crunched up on the sidewalk in noggin swelling agony says, “I can hook you up with a SAG card you know. Our biggest account is Optimum. All you need is proof of vaccination, and I’ll hook you up with commercial work for them. J.B. Smoove makes Tracy Morgan sound like Sidney Poitier.”
Thug Lives Matter kicks his teeth into the pavement and says, “Fuck Optimum, they won’t let me watch individual Knicks games on NBA TV in Yorktown Heights unless I subscribe to Optimum or get MSG through Direct TV. And I only do the Cloud motherfucker. Kayne for President, you media hording heeb. And fuck your Truvada commercials on Hulu. I don’t want to see that whack ass gay shit while babysitting my sister’s son during commercial breaks after Lego Masters. With no bail laws you can’t be in jail long enough to get HIV induced hemorrhaging now. It doesn’t matter if I sell dimes or bricks of H. “
So, you can’t tongue some random bloke’s balls during a match between Mexico and Poland during the World Cup. Aren’t those games standing room only anyway? Plus, what self-respecting gay guy would book a trip to Qatar after watching the Sex In The City movie, blotchy old hags on the rag with nothing else better to do since the United Arab Emirates and China bought up all the primo posh real estate left in Manhattan that’s skunk weed smell proof. Outside of those apartheid imperialists in charge of Israel, isn’t being gay the number one cause of death in the Middle East after suicide bombing and heart attacks from rock throwing paralysis after getting booster shots in exchange for more nudie pics of Jennifer Love Hewitt in the dressing room lot for Disney Kids coupled with Brittney Spears sandy clean snatch. Singing summer loving, having a blast till his good rock throwing arm goes limp from the clot shot and has to switch jerking with his left, assuming he’s got any juice left or decides to become a kite surf instructor for John Kerry and his new world order friends to pump that family fortune for all its worth.