Who's got the titanium testes to take Iowahawk head-on in an all-out, to-the-death, Texas-cage-match of hyphenated, literary martial arts?
'Tis I, Alppuccino. Yes.... the same Alppuccino who:
Took Cindy Sheehan to the mat with photos coupled with a mind-bending little twist on an already fairly funny credit card ad campaign.
THE Alppuccino who:
Uncovered the inherent gayness that permeates the seemier side of college football. Go Huskers! Hooray! Husk this, big fella. GET THAT FAGGOTY HUSKER AWAY FROM ME MORT!
The Alppuccino who, as Jesushadatatoo:
Reminded my loyal readership (17 lonely people strong), that the scrotum has taken a back seat to the more glamorous body parts for too long. Too long. Give the scrotum its due! If this country doesn't realize how important the scrotum is to our national security, I may have to tie my scrotum to the White House fence until someone pays attention. I'll go you one better. In January, I'll dip my nut-sack in tepid water and stick to the Capitol flag pole.
Would Iowahawk tie his bag to a fence to make a point? Not hardly (pause for laughter). He sits in his Chicago penthouse, smoking jacket neatly pressed, jewel-encrusted laptop glowing against his Wedgewood stem, half-filled with Cristal.
In the meat-market world of "come here often?" blogs, Iowahawk is the tall, confident, well-tanned bon vivant who has no problem picking you up and taking you back to his lair.
Sure, he'll pleasure you comically as a patient and generous blogger, but after you've reached your peak of laughter and the moment wanes, he turns to you as he's closing the lavatory door and smirks, "I've got things to do. Put your serious face back on will you luv? You can show yourself out." Don't worry, he'll call. (pause for laughter)
You hate him for using you like that. But you still walk by his place. "Maybe I'll run into him. I'll act like it was coincidence." "Who am I?!@?" "What am I doing here?"
But you've got to have that magic again. So you go back. "It's the same goddammed shit over and over again?!? I'm not doing this anymore!" But you can't help yourself.
You've got to realize that all Iowahawk wants is your laughter. He doesn't want to get serious. He doesn't care about your feelings
Look at him!.
Alppuccino will never let you down..
Think of Alppuccino as the Ernest Borgnine of the blog scene. Shy, loyal to a fault, needy
Maybe my words don't give you that same sensation, but you can learn to love me.
My words aren't handsome, with well-chiseled features. But then again, age will have less affect on them. Whereas, after a while, some of these pretty-boy bloggers' sentences will wrinkle up like a Champions Tour money leader after the Southern Swing.
So go out. Have a great time looking for what's been here all this time. But don't come crying to me when some slick-writing, Longfellow sticks his BIC round stic Grip right through your heart and leaves you alone to sort out your confusion.
Grow up.
