Our Sick Game 2014

You know what really pisses me off? The fact that no matter how hard I work, I can't get any motherfucking recognition. I mean Jesus, whatsa matter with you fuckers? Are you fucking retarded? Why am I not in this fucking ... whatever this is? I need to be in it! Courtney Love? Motherfucking Scott Weiland? That's some fucked up shit. I'll be dead in a ditch by Christmas and everyone knows it. You fuckers. Fuck you.

And who are the rest of these losers? I've never heard of any of them. Who the fuck is Jimmy Carter? He looks old. What has he ever done?

When I woke up this afternoon next to my gardner (what are they when they aren't Mexican or Chinese? Fillipino?), my agent called me about some fucking after school special shit or something. I told him to shove that shit up his ass and get me in the dead game thing. Jesus fuck. I don't know why I pay him. I can't take all this disrespect and I don't give a raggedy cunt hair what anyone else thinks.

Okay, are you satisfied? I ask, was that good enough? Look, you wanted me to step up my game and bring a little more to the show. If I told you I could piss off every Muslim in the world in one afternoon, is that something you might be interested in? Well, I did it. That’s right, me, Pope Benedict XVI. Screw the church – I did it for oil. Ewing Oil.

I could have taken the easy way out. I could have gone after the Commies like Pope John Paul II. I could have made a stink about that lovers quarrel between Israel and Lebanon. But that’s not how PB-16 rolls. You want to make a name for yourself in this business, you don’t bitch-slap a poodle. No, you punch a pitbull, spit in its face, and rub its nose in a pile of poop. That is what gets you headlines. That, my children, is what gets you death threats. And there’s no sweeter kind of death threat anywhere in this great big world than having a jihad declared against you.

Oh, how as a little boy in Germany I would always dream that someday Muslims declare a jihad against me. Now, all these years later, I am living proof that dreams can come true. What a time to have this happening when I am needed more than ever. How special it would be if my life were snuffed out by a raving, Muslim fanatic and my 22 most-holy points were to be taken advantage of by Ewing Oil. Let us all bow our heads in prayer for this fantastic event.

Dear Baby Jesus
All sitting up in your crib watching a "Baby Mozart" DVD
Please sustain the Muslim Street’s anger and hatred against me
Allow them the means and desire to have a successful jihad
And let it be the most bountiful jihad of all time
In the name of Ewing Oil, Amen.

The death of Patricia Kennedy Lawford, 82, has propelled Sweet Valley Death ahead of Ewing Oil by the slimmest of margins, 117.5 to 116. With just over three months to go in the season, Sweet Valley Death is now in the driver's seat with four deaths, a half-point lead, and Fidel Castro's points still up for grabs following Ewing Oil's failed insurance attempt last month. A spokesperson for Ewing Oil said that despite the death of Lawford, they will refuse to mope.

"It's not a great day for us, but at the end of the day we're only trailing by 1/2 point. We still believe in the players on our roster and will not be content to go down without a fight. Having said that, congratulations are in order to the folks over at Sweet Valley Death. You'll never go wrong with a Kennedy on your team."

After eight months, six bodies and one failed insurance policy later, Ewing Oil still leads Sweet Valley Death by a score of 116-99.5.

A recap:

Sweet Valley Death: January -- Lou Rawls (moneyball), 56, Shelly Winters, 15
February -- Al Lewis, 18
July -- Insurance taken out on Fidel Castro (7/31), 10.5

Ewing Oil: January -- Coretta Scott King, 22
February -- Don Knotts (moneyball), 38
March -- Dana Reeve, 56