Who Da Daddy Is?

Last night I watched the Maury Povich show. In my defense it was 4am and I was wasted, but I am always one to admit to my shortcomings (however few there may be) and I was sucked into the warming glow of the television's warm glow. The episode was one of those Are You the Daddy? episodes and the people on this show were particularly disgusting. The one that really caught my attention, though, was a certain fat cow and her "boyfriend." Gather 'round, it's time for a story.

This woman, we'll call her Boner Graveyard, as her face, like John Stewart so eloquently put it, was the place where hard-ons go to die, was a fucking mess. Boner Graveyard had seven children by at least five different men. Not too shabby. She had come on the M.P. show because she was convinced that the man she was currently riding was the father of her seventh child. Obviously, and very intelligently, her alleged baby-daddy denied the entire thing. This is where Maury steps in, god bless his philanthropic soul. Maury decides out of the goodness of his heart to bring both on the show and give the alleged father a paternity test. He agreed and came on. The show started with some bullshit off-stage interviews where both act like they are infallible and talk in pseudo-rhyme trying to "diss" the other wretched piece of fuck. "You know you a slut. You know that shit whack, 'cause the baby ain't mine, he ain't even black!" Or some shit like that. It goes on like that.

Of course, when the she-beast cumdumpster comes on first she is met with raucous applause and support from the crowd, whose collective education level is somewhere below special-ed. She tells Maury about how she is sure that he is the father because she only slept with eight men in the past two months and she used protection with three, two others pulled out, yet two more banged her in the ass, and the alleged father, we'll call him Sticks His Dick in Common Street Trash (StickDick for short), was the only one who could have slipped one past the goalie. Maury appears very sympathetic, but the crowd wants blood. They want StickDick's head on a pike. The drama!

Now it's time for StickDick to come out. He is met with harsh criticism from the crowd and the boos rain down upon him. Hell hath no fury like an angered Maury audience. To his credit he remains calm. He doesn't throw his arms up in the air as if he enjoys the hatred of the crowd. He doesn't fire off a profanity laced tirade at Boner Graveyard. He simply sits down and waits for Maury to talk to him.

Maury: "Are you the father?"

StickDick: "No."

Maury: "Are you sure?"

StickDick: "Ummm, yes. I'm not the father."

Maury: "Ok, well Boner Graveyard says that there is no way that you are not the father."

StickDick: "Well, she is wrong."

I liked how StickDick was handling this. He was very calm and wasn't getting worked up, setting himself up for disappointment.

Now comes the moment I had been waiting for. Maury is going to read the results.

Maury: "StickDick, you are . . . . . . . . . . . . NOT the father!"

Justice.


Predictably the fat jizz receptacle ran off the stage crying. But better than that, StickDick just said "I knew it," and then got up and walked off of the stage.

Goddamnit I love it when stupid attention-whores like that fat piece of shit get exactly what they deserve. This bitch was embarrassed in front of lots of people, and the best part was that it was all her fault. She was the one who couldn't keep her legs shut or use birth control. Look, sexually liberated women are great. I hope that all women can enjoy sex and I wish the double standard was gone, but then there are fat sloots like this wildebeast who sleep with men simply for attention or to snare them with a child. What a reprehensible cunt. I hope she fell down the stairs as she was running out of the studio after being served a healthy load of creamy hot justice to her face.

But she's probably riding some other hobby horse right now and has another demon-seed growing inside of her. (I'll bet someone as fat and nasty as she is doesn't show until about the eighth month). I feel for that guy, too. Not because he has to put his dick in common street trash, but because he can't recognize it when he sees it.

So, here's to you Ms. Boner Graveyard. May the wind be always at your back, and may a car hit you when you are struggling to cross the street.

Justice.