So here I am in the Brewers' clubhouse a few hours before game time. I'm writing this from a bathroom stall so I can get some privacy. My new teammates keep asking me "Why you bringin' a laptop into the bathroom stall?" I tell them "So I can jerk, son! Why else would I do something like that? Now get out before I whack you so hard your daddy's balls get sore!" Shit, son...ain't no one givin' no one else no privacy these days.
And as far as doin' my business in a bathroom stall, well you know...that's just the JO Sampson way. Because that's my name for truf and all. Yup. I'm definitely JO Sampson.
(Hey gys...I'm just kiddin'. It's really me, The Juice! I'm just pretendin' to be someone else so I could get into this crazy clubhouse! Foolproof logic, son!)
So yeah, your boy OJ...er...JO has spent some time in jail before, and it really ain't too much different than this Brewer clubhouse. We got a bunch of dudes runnin' around playing grabass with each other. There's 2-3 guys in here givin' ol' JO the sex eye (If JJ Hardy winks at me one more time...). And this Prince Fielder fatass...I served time with his daddy once! Yeah, he and I used to rough up the locals at the nearest Bennegans with Buzanis back in the day. Oh, and don't forget all the sodomy that seems to be a regular thing here in Milwaukee. Nasty.
So get this...did you like the number I pulled on the Brewers last night? I started out by telling Sabathia that Soriano ain't got nothin' and that he should just lay a fastball right in there to him so that he don't walk nobody. Later on in the game, when D-Lee was groundin' into another twin-killing (which your boy OJ knows a thing or two about...), I yelled out "Shit! Reed Johnson's GOT A KNIFE, SON!" and made the Brewers fuck up on defense. Then before Salamander Torres (That's the prison name I gave him) came in for the 9th, I slipped him a little LSD. Shit son, you try to find the damn strike zone when you're trippin balls out there! Probably made that midget Fontenot look like Barry Bonds or some shit. Speaking of Barry, that dude owes me $50K...
I think I did a pretty good job throwin' the Brewers off their game. Let's check the OJ-Meter to rate last night's performance:
Shit son, I'll take 4.5 out of 5 any day. Damn, that OJ Simpson dude is a fine lookin' sonofabitch! Underage ladies everywhere should call that dude up tonight!
Anyway, I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve for tonight's game. Ben Sheets? I know where that motherfucker lives! All I gots to do to distract that dude is sneak in and steal his kid's favorite toy. Then I'll slap some blood on it (Don't ask where I'm gettin' it...I gots my own ways that you don't even wanna know...) and give it to him before the game and say "Dude, I found this by your locker. Some shady lookin' dude left it behind and then ran away. Probably the same dude that killed OJ's wife!" Two birds with one stone? Legit!
I gotta go. Fielder's knockin' and sayin' something about taking a shit the size of a Heisman. I know what that's all about. Too bad mine sold at auction. And that's the low down dirty shame.