Thursday, October 19, 2006
I've Been Talking with a Ghost...
This was a really tough interview to put together. Do you guys know how hard it was to schedule a sit-down with Logan Young, a guy that's been dead for 6 months? You can't just give them a call. It takes some work. I thought of trying the whole ouiji board thing, but, according to Tri-Mar Paranormal Research, ouiji boards are "not a scientifically accepted form of ghostly research and are potentially dangerous as well." Plus, I thought it would be pretty close to impossible to decipher the incoherent ramblings of a drunk ghost one letter at a time. Next, I considered a seance, but learned they, if they aren't totally fake, can be dangerous as well. All I needed was the spirit of a douche-bag Bammer fucking up my apartment and drinking all my JD. I was at a loss. I talked to ghost hunters, psychics, delusional lawyers, bald bitter radio hosts, and even a bizarre, one-eyed gypsy named Phyllis. No one could help. I was really frustrated at this point. LWS was going to be really pissed if I didn't come through with this interview (He can be very demanding. Never bring up nipple clamps or electro-shock when around the Grill Viper). I needed to blow off some steam and clear my head, so I decided to head over to the Purple Church for the all you can eat contest (the most glorious thing I have ever seen) and a couple of lap dances. This is where things got a little wierd.... We're half way through "Gold Digger" and I've got Destiny's DD's flopping in my face, when all of a sudden a ghastly apparation appeared on her chest.... GoLY: Boy, if you want this interview, get your face out of those funbags and order me a shot of Jack. Now I've heard it's impossible to piss and shit at the same time, but the people that say that have never seen a ghost's head pop out between a stripper's tits. I flip backwards out of my chair sending drinks and Destiny flying (don't worry, her tits broke her fall) GoLY: Hehehe...I love doing that shit. Get off your ass, boy. I told you to get me some whiskey. I stand up, wide-eyed, reach out and try to touch his arm...my hand goes straight through. GoLY: Quit that shit. You can't touch a ghost, you dumb sonbitch. Now sit down, get me some bourban, and start asking me your fucking questions before I possess you and make you drop a duece on the stage. I start to slowly regain my composure and take a seat and order Mr. Young a bourban and a Long Island Ice Tea for myself. BP: Well Mr. Young, it sure was nice of you to come back from the dead to talk to me... GoLY: Hell son, you think I'm here to talk to you? I come here every other day to check out all the T and A. Tommy G. told me your skinny ass was wanting to chit-chat and when I saw ya sitting over here I thought I'd grant your wish. BP: So you still speak with Mr. Gallion even though you're dead? GoLY: Of course, son. The man's a demon. Where I living now, it's kinda hard to get away from him. BP: A...a...demon? GoLY: You retarded, boy? Yeah, he's a fucking demon. Smells like sulpher. Servant of the Devil. A fucking demon. BP: What about Paul Finebaum? Is he a demon too? GoLY: That bald idiot? Naw, son. He ain't no demon. He's just a retard. GoLY: Thanks, honey. Keem 'em coming. (He attempts to slap the waitress on her ass but his hand goes right through her) Hey there, boy. You're gonna have to help me out with this. I can't pick up the glass. (I pick it up and attempt to pour the whiskey into his mouth. It goes straight through him and right onto the floor.) DAMN I needed that. BP: Could you even taste that? A depressed look crosses his face. GoLY: Naw I can't taste it. But it sure brings back some memories. Me and the Bahr used to chug bottle after bottle of this shit while we discussed what players he wanted me to buy for him. BP: Speaking of the Bear, what was your relationship with him like? GoLY: Ah, me and the Bahr were great buddies. Still are by the way, though we don't have nearly as much fun now that we're in hell (Sorry Bama fans, there's the confirmation that the Bear is actually dead). We used to pound a few bottles of Jack, climb into my pick up truck and take out some mailboxes with a baseball bat. SHIT, them were great times. I remember when we took a shit in a paper bag(You hear that, boy we didn't use dog shit. We actually shit in the bag ourselves), put it on Johnny Majors' porch and set it on fire. That sonbitch was so pissed off when he stomped it out and realized the bag was full of shit. Hehehe, you shoulda seen his face!!
I can believe there was shit in that bag.
BP: What's your opinion of Roy Adams?
GoLY: That no-good, back-stabbing, queer, sonbitch. You know me and him used to be big buddies? We hung out all the time. Then that bastard feed me a shitload of Jack and tried to cornhole me in his hottub. Now don't get me wrong, I love a good cornholing. The Bahr used to give 'em to me all the time. But that's only for the Bahr to do to me...ain't no man that goes by TennStud gonna slip it to me. Then that shit he pulled at my trial...
BP: Your trial....Tell me Logan...what was it like to be a modern day slave trader?
GoLY: Slave trader? Hell, son, all I did was give some people a little money to play football at Alabama, I ain't no slave trader.
BP: You paid coaches large amounts of money for their athletes to go to Alabama. You bought human beings. That's the definition of a slave trader.
GoLY: Spare me the self-righteousness, boy. I gave them boys money out of love, love for my Crimson Tide. If it wasn't for me, that program woulda sank to shit decades ago. You really think some boy is gonna come to Tuscaloosa, Alabama to play football? Have you been there? It's a shithole! I wouldn't take a piss in that town without wrapping up my package. So yeah, I bought me a few players...more than a few but I was doing it out of the good of my heart. You know how bad it gets down there when the Tide loses. Hell some daddy tried to shoot his kid. Imagine what's going to go down when that program goes completely into the shitter. It's going to be uglier than when I "fell down those stairs". Listen boy, I gotta get outta here. Satan gets his panties in a wad if we're gone too long.
BP: One more question before you go...can I get a score prediction for the game on Saturday?
GoLY: Let's see, how many of my boys are left down there.............................aw, shit. We're screwed.