The difference between you and I? Well; is that I make this look good.

That’s right. I do expect a fucking modichem of gratitude to be extended by you fucking lollies out there upon my presence. I’m Joe Buck, and I’m the best damn sports anouncer that the world has ever seen.

I don’t know if it’s my destiny in life, or just in my fucking bloodline to be this good, but I am nothing short of half-man, half amazing. I’m the fucking Lebron James of sports broadcast journalism, only I’m better. I am going to become the first play by play man in the world to win Sports Illustrated’s Sportsman of the Year. That’s right, they’ve fucking got my cell number for a reason. The way I calculate it I’m on speed-dial and any minute they’ll call to tell me I just beat out all of humanity in the sporting world, and then the rest of you normalcy lifeform band of underachieving cockrags can say it yourselves, “That Joe Buck, simply incredible”.

I’ve turned down interviews with Forbes, Playboy, Fortune, Time Magazine, Readers Digest, you name it, Big Joe has been offered the spotlight. I’ve taken a 3 time Superbowl winner and carried his ass through 2 seasons of FOX NFL sunday now. That’s right, you should of seen Troy’s dumb ass stumbling through his fucking cue cards, studdering and fumble fucking his way through his lines. I told him, this is how you do it SON:

“Picked off. Rodney Harrison, and the New England Patriots are on their way to becoming a dynasty.”

That’s right. That was only one of my Hall of Fame calls. Football is like my little side-hobby you see. Did you know at the ripe young age of 25, I became the youngest man ever to call a slate of football games on National Television? I jumped straight from the depths of Minor League hell straight to the fucking pros baby, like a freight train demon on crack. That’s like, a Minor league ballplayer making the jump to the Major Leagues, and the NFL, at the same point in his life. Suck on that tit Bo Jackson, and Deion Sanders. Know what that equals Einstein? Joe’s nuts are bigger!

Ok time for another one of my Hall of Fame Calls:

“Down the left field line – is it enough? Gone. There it is, sixty-two. Touch first, Mark. You are the new single-season home run king.”

That’s right. That was what I said after that injected meat steak with legs Mcgwire broke that old fucking stiff Roger Maris’ homerun record. Big fucking deal. The guy was strong and hit 63 long pop flys. Did he graduate from fucking Indiana University Undergrad with a BA in Journalism? NO. I did. That’s right. Daddy fucking owns him.

Speaking of Dad’s, my father might have passed on a little bit of his genes to me, but without a doubt I am the greatest Buck of them all. I’m such a great Buck that I thought about changing my name to ‘Stallion’, Joe Stallion. I left my name Buck because a Buck is the King of his woods. He can fuck any doe he wants, at any time. He can half crazy deer sex with many does in one night. That’s what I’m known for. That’s right, I’m new and improved. I’m better looking, re-invented, and more creative then that passed away sad-sack. I’m fucking more energizing that a whiff of smelling salts. Listening to my father was like being half asleep at the wheel on a 2 hour drive home from Cleveland, you keep smacking yourself, sticking your head out the window, trying not to let the booze get the better of your drunk ass and just press on and drive through it. They wanted me to take my fathers job, I declined. I am not here to make anyone look bad. By the way, don’t ever talk about my father. Ever.

Anyone who can be on primetime and be so graceful with a stiff like Tim Mccarver is more than excellence. I take a microphone and I create dreams for people. I am inspiring. I am fucking invigorating. Mccarver? The guy is passion-less, has no spirit, and as my father said “his playcalling was as uninspiring as watching him play catcher.” That’s right. He was a fucking catcher, don’t pretend like you haven’t heard him talk about it. He was lousy, just like in the booth that I fucking carry the operations in.

I’ve been asked to write a book. I don’t think it would be doing myself much justice to write the words down on paper and let millions of peons like you everywhere read the shit, in your own voice. That’s right. I bring the voice, I bring the presence, not you. That’s why I’m going to be the first author ever to do his autobiography on tape. You can listen to me tell my life story.
Have you ever made a woman cream in her pants by simply orating:

“In the air to left field. Back, at the track, at the wall, We. Are. Tied! …”

Well I have. I’ve been stopped in bars all over the country by fans of mine, that simply begged not even for an autograph, but to hear me just say the words “and that’s ball four.” When I am in the company of a woman, between her legs, I simply start to whistle and then I call out “here it comes, game seven, see you tomorrow night” and it’s like insta-cum. Women’s orgasm’s have just become second nature to me, they cannot help themselves around my voice and my presence. I am to broadcasting what Abner Doubleday is to baseball, but I’m more innovative, you see.

I have been offered oral sex by men and women in public washrooms, at truck stops, anywhere your small mind can imagine, just to hear one of my world famous calls. All it took was one:

“Red Sox fans have longed to hear it: The Boston Red Sox are World Champions.”

And I was being blown on command. He was damn good too.

I wish I knew which was longer, 3/8, a half, 5/8, I just don’t know. What’s longer, Troy, a half or 5/8? Well I’m sorry that it surprised all you oblivious morons out there that I didn’t just know the answer, but when talking about lengths, I’m much better working with full figure. That’s right, “The Buck” as they used to call me in my college days, has a full 10 inches of hard cock, and he’s coming to get you. I know that’s longer than those 5/8 cleats the Bears were wearing in the playoff game last January.

You wish you were me. Women want me. Men envy me. The Buck is here, and he’s here to stay. Bow to me and kiss my royal toes you slouch, cause let’s be honest, your life can’t possibly be even half as interesting as my own.

You, too, should be interested in the awesomeness of a Bachelor’s degree, online, no less!