The 'other' Tim Kurkjan

Hi there everyone! I’m ESPN’s Tim Kurkjan and you probably think I’m here to talk about a heart-warming story about Oakland A’s GM Billy Beane, or Sammy Sosa’s heroic comeback. Well I’m not. This is my time, and I’m operating on my watch today. I’m here for something totally different. I’m tired of being pushed around by the big-whigs at ESPN and I’m tired of being lacky to that Gobbler-Chin fuck, Gammons and that fat Hawaiian shirt-wearing swine Chris Berman. I’m tired of people calling me an egg-head, and I’m tired of ‘coloring within the lines’ of commentary. No more Mr. nice guy, got it? I’m running the fucking show today and turn off that fucking tele-prompter because I’m not reading the cues anymore.

You think I don’t hear what people say about me? You think I don’t have two ears that hear just like yours? Well fuck you, asshat, because I have two ears that do hear, and they hear quite well. No, I have never played the game of baseball, but just to clear things up, I know the game better than any of you fat, stitched to couch lowlifes that sit and watch me and try and live the big league dream every day bicariously through my words. I take a dream and put it in the form of a baseball highlight every night for you people and this is the thanks I get in return? Suck my fucking pecan skinned cock!

I passed Stuart Scott at the Oasis water fountain in the company cafeteria the other day and you know what he asked me? “Hey there, do you know where you’re at? Can I help you?”, then the prick tried to have me taken in by security and escorted off the premisis. Well I have a nugget for you, Mr. Scott, you oatmeal-smelling fuck, I do know where I’m at and I am where I’m supposed to be. Where are you supposed to be, you Jackie Robinson immortalizing piece of shit, cheating on your wife, perhaps? Fuck you and the Rolls-Royce you rode into town on.

You see these loafers? Look closer, look at the tread on the soles. You see that green? That came from Camden Yards in Baltimore. Have you ever stepped foot on the shrouds of Camden? That’s what I thought. Take a whiff, that smells of success you horse manure-eating, self-suffocating prick. Don’t you dare turn those cameras off. I’ll go so fucking postal that you people won’t even know the light of day. I’ll bury this company. If you know what you’re doing Miguel, you’ll keep those fucking cameras rolling. This is my spotlight and I’m finishing the segment.

So what, you hear my voice and because it’s soft you think I haven’t done great things in life? You think I’m here for your amusement? Wrong again. Last time I looked at my watch, it was telling the right time and it told me to tell you people to blow me! Let me let you all in on a little secret: last night, I had the most incredible sex of my life, she was a prostitute named Veronica. She blew me twice in the parking lot, I made her stop, then I slapped her in the face, pulled on her tits while I gave her a monstrous money shot of cum right to her nose. I had never done that before but it was so gratifying. I asked her how it felt to be Daddy Tim’s little whore and she said it was great. To top everything else off, I did something else totally shocking. I used that dick move most used by Keith Olbermann and I didn’t even pay her when she was finished licking the nectar off my boton. I told hear to “lick the meatus, lick the meatus. That meatus is sensitive, lick it, lick” and she did. I shriveled myself up, short of energy and hollered the bitch right out of my car. That’s right, so blow me! You people have no clue what I’m capable of.

I was the kid in gym class that always got shit on and picked last. I was the son that the father never hugged. I was the kid who got his tooth brush stolen from his sleepover bag at slumber parties by “friends” and had them pass it around in a circle and wipe their ass with it right before I brushed my teeth for the night. No more of that shit! I’m not brushing my teeth with a fecal mattered fucking toothbrush anymore here at the world-wide leader in sports. I’ve got something more valuable than that fucking worthless paystub you provide me with: Kurkjan Pride! I am a man, and none of you will ever be able to take that away from me. Fuck you!

I have an agenda as well, that I am giving my attentions to at the moment. Usually that agenda included 12 hours of sleep, cleaning in all the areas that I should, abstinence, vegtables, a nice interview or segment in which I was forced to play the fiddle of kindness for you fucking people and your big-shot prick athletes, and lots of other things that kept my body in homeostasis! Well no more, it’s new-agenda time here for Timmy boy, how do you like me now, fucking cum rags.

This morning I awoke, ate 12 slices of bacon, scratched my fucking nards, and went out of the house only commando underneath my dress-khakis–which were still smelling of shit in the seat of them because I didn’t wash them! Is that man enough for you fucking macho-big shot assholes? How about this, I went into the gas station, asked for a pack of Marlboro Reds, when I was asked to be ID’d for them I told the fucking heeb behind the counter that I had a knife in my suit jacket, and he handed them over. Amazing how a little swagger can change a man’s fortunes in this country. I then lit one after the other driving on the way to work on an empty tank and opened my window and yelled obscenities all the way to the studio parking lot. I yelled them until I couldn’t catch my breath in between puffs. I don’t mind the cigarettes, there not bad really. When I walked in, some nice little pretty girl in the green room gave me a fake “hello how’s your day Mr. Kurkjan?”. Wrong day for that missy. I replied with “I don’t fucking know you, don’t pretend like you know me unless you’re ready to hand over whats between those thieghs,” and walked away. It got Harold Reynolds released from this captive island of fucking hostility, maybe it will work for me.

Is that fucking camera still on? It better be.

Maybe you people have seen the movie Falling Down, with Micheal Douglas. I’ve seen it and that is how I feel. I’ve been pushed around, and pushed around, and be-littled, and underappreciated for too long. The world will pay it’s price now. That’s right. I’ve lost my fucking little toy mind. I’m sitting here with my pants down to my ankles, belt undone, and I’m jerking off thinking of images of Marilyn Monroe. When I am finished relieving myself under this desk I’m walking out to my car, grabbing a sniper rifle I just purchased and I’m going to the top of the highest building in this city and I’m going to treat the city streets like they are my ant farm. Guess what, you people out there are all my ants! I’m the kid now with the magnifying glass. I’m going to pick you off one by one until my fucking hearts content. Then I’m going to pull out my cock and blow my brains out.