« on: July 22, 2010, 05:40:07 PM »
From Everyday Should Be Saturday
A WORD FROM NPAA CHAIRMAN FATSACKS ROBINSON
by Spencer Hall on Jul 22, 2010 9:59 AM EDT 35 comments
Dear Nick Saban,
I like to think when a bitch breaks back on me, it's a teaching moment. A moment when I, her pimp, can establish a moment of both education and rapport, a time when through a common learning experience that can make us both better people and better business partners. As a football coach, I'm sure you share my passion for teaching, and can understand.
Thus I extend the same to you in the name of all pimpdom: a teaching moment. You may have heard that pimping is very difficult, or perhaps more succinctly that "Pimpin'" is not "easy." I could not concur more, having plied my trade for over 25 years now both as a sub-pimp, cash boy, and then finally as a full-grown pimp on the streets of Birmingham, Mobile, and for a short but eventful time in Atlanta.
Again, I'd like to thank the law offices of Marquardt, Goldman, and Harrison for their assistance to me in a time of need.
You referred to agents as "no better than pimps" yesterday. These remarks, Coach Saban, cut me to the core. Having been a loyal Crimson Tide all my life, I have pulled for Alabama with a passion and ferocity I cannot exercise in any other portion of my life, where I am expected to remain as icy and flashy as a freshly cut diamond.
(And I do, Coach Saban. You best believe I do, from my tailored 15 button suits to my burnished teak cane. I am a stunning street peacock whose cry makes women's uteruses shudder. My plumage melts the hearts of the coldest bitch. My smile makes husbands turn around and walk away in despair before I have said a word to their woman.)
I have purchased season tickets for 12 years with my hard-earned cash. I have procured some of the sauciest and most feral of bitches for your coaches, both assistants and head coaches. I even hid the aftereffects of an unfortunate bondage-game-gone-wrong. I cannot divulge the coach who accidentally dispatched Charlita the Choke Artist to the great Bunny Ranch in the sky, but it rhymes with Man-chi-one. You're welcome.
To hear you say this after my years of service and loyalty to the Crimson Tide hurts, Coach Saban. We share so much in common. We teach. We cajole. Sometimes, when necessary, we slap. You do it with words, and I do it with my bejeweled, immaculately manicured hand. We both hustle, and we both do our best to get the most out of our hard-working, beautiful young employees trying to turn a cold stretch of highway into a green mile of pimpin' victory.
Evidently I was wrong, but I appreciate you pointing that out. We're not the same. I pay my bitches, and you don't. When you start doing that, perhaps then you may allow your mouth purse to spit nickels of half-truth into my swimming pool of real-talk Benjamins.
On behalf of all the pimps of the world,
Fatsacks Robinson
President, National Pimps Association of America
P.S. Lump me in with Drew Rosenhaus and Jimmy Sexton again in public, and I will cut you.
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