Every Friday we at BBBC bring you a very special message from a professional athlete. This week's guest is former baseball player Carl Everett.What's going on? Ever since the Mariners cut me last year I've been getting down to doing some thinking. Deep-ass thinking, ya know what I mean? I was always into books and shit, ya know, the intellectual type. I read my fuckin' bible on road trips and even checked out the educational shit in Playboy. So anyway, I was thinking about why the Mariners and that fat eggroll cracker fuck Hargrove let the main man Carl go. I think it was because they feared my awesome brain. I wasn't fooled by all the lies that were told, like that bullshit about dinosaurs and white men on the moon. Only person that can get on the moon is Jesus. He's got enough super magic in his fuckin' power belt to fly all around the moon like fifty million times.
Ok, I'm gonna get to the point here. I've always been good with words and books and learning. Last week I was watching some news and started spelling words all of a sudden. Like "news." And "spelling." And even "breaking news." I was on fire like a motherfucker, in the zone, man. My son Carl ran in the room and asked for some juice and I told him to jump off a bridge and die because daddy Carl was in the spelling groove and couldn't be interrupted. Before I took out my diamond belt on lil' Carl's face, lil' Carl tells me that in Washington they have this shit called the National Spelling Bee. It's even next week! Holy shit, I thought, I could spell fucking words! That bitch is mine!
So I called up some ho who told me about where to call for the spelling bee. I nailed the ho softly, then gave the spelling bee niggas a call. Some old dude answerd talkin' shit about "qualifying" and being "over the age limit." He was obviously either afraid of my giant elephant brain or just a fucking racist. I think it's a little of both. After that I was pissed and took lil' Carl out back for a spanking. I used the extra hard wood planks cuz I was really pissed. Then lil' Carl tells me to go to Washington anyway and ask to enter. Lil' Carl's got an elephant brain like daddy Carl so I stop beating him and let him have his fruit roll-up.
I get to Washington and tell some dudes I'm Carl Everett, baseball legend. That didn't know who I was so I fucked 'em up real bad. No one disrespects a baseball legend! At the spelling place I saw a bunch of brown kids with weird looking eyes. Shit man, this kids are like two feet tall and the girls got bigger sideburns than me. One little kid named Ho-cho-poo or some made-up shit like that comes over and asks me if I play baseball. I tell him he's looking at a baseball legend and he says he loved watching me play in Seattle. He gave me a piece of paper and said to write "To Ho-chun-fungwang, you're the best, your friend Ken Griffey Jr." Fucka thought I was Griff! Well then I picked him up by his little blue suspenders and shoved his ching chong ass in the garbage can out back. Then the security comes and arrests me. Racism against Carl! Finally I woke up a few hours in jail and I realized that I wasn't gonna be in any spelling bee.
It's cool though, cuz I got other shit to do. I'm gonna be making movies or writing books. I don't need to spell in a bee. I already own that bitch. Yeah, Carl Everett is sure doing good. Sunny skies all around! But if you hear from any teams, like the Devil Rays or Rockies give me a call. I think I got another fifty homer season left in my body.
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