Tuesday, November 13, 2007

An Open Letter to the New Jersey Nets from Jason Kidd

Sweet Sheryl, Mother of Big Baby Jesus, what do I have to do around here? Honestly? What, 14, 9, and 10 isn't enough? When I'm dropping near triple-doubles you fools can't manage to beat the cast and crew of Charles In Charge? I keep dishing triple-doubles, and you morons keep us at or only slightly above .500! What do I have to do? Do I have to hold your hand on the way to the basket? Do you need me to wipe the drool from your mouth while CP3 makes you look like a wispy teenage girl staring at Travolta in Grease?

Oh, no, don't try and put this off. RJ was there for me, like he's been there all damn season. And don't give me any crap about Mr. Candice not being there. It's not like he would have shown up for the final four minutes anyway. Hey, Collins! You want to get off your ass and do something, you fatass? I've about had it with you. And Nenad! Maywbe if you would get done banging Serbian chicks, you could stop shooting 29% from the floor!

Do you realize that little punk CP3 beat me last night? I'm a hall-of-famer! And he got the winning shot! Why didn't I get the winning shot? Why in the hell did Antoine take the shot? What the hell were you thinking, Baby Frank? What did I ever do to you?

You guys better step up. I'm not getting bounced again because you douchebags disappear when the going gets tough. So stuff some marshmallows down your shorts and get it together. Or I'm gettin' the wife's flamethrower and coming in here like Ripley, you dig?

Love,
Jason.

 
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